Page 5 of Breaking the Code

Simon smiles at me, and I cannae help but smile back. I love the man, body and soul, and though there are things about him that make it difficult, I wouldnae change him for all the world. I just wish he were more submissive. I’m sure he feels the same.

Maybe, if we find someone to share, to complete us and our dynamic, then we’d both be happy.

Six months later, the worry that Simon could be taken from me is astronomical.

“Simon, I want ye to stop digging,” I plead.

Since finding the letter six months ago, we’ve hunted down every scrap o’ info. It’s not the first time I’ve asked him to stop. Nae, the weird nagging feeling I get at times that makes me feel like we’re being watched has me on edge. A feeling I only get when Simon is with me, leading me to believe that whoever is watching us is nae watching us but him.

And it grows with every passing day.

Simon ignores me, continuing whatever he’s doing as if I hadn’t said a word, like I’m a ghost.

“Simon,” I bark, pissed he disnae even look my way.

He exhales heavily. He turns to look at me, and anger rages within his gaze. The emotion I see in them causes his gray eyes to glint like metal in firelight. This isnae the first time we’ve fought about this. He knows I willnae stop hunting them, and he willnae step back unless I do.

“I’m not having this conversation again, Dray.”

“God dammit!” I scream. “I cannae lose ye, Simon. These people would sooner kill ye than look at ye.”

“Do you think I don’t know that, Draven? Do you think me daft?” he inquires.

I dinnae respond. Probably nae the best idea. Looking at Simon, I can see it isnae. I can be an idiot at times. I admit it.

That glint that first flashed in his eyes grows into an inferno at my lack o’ response until it’s a wildfire blazing from the depths o’ his soul. The rage vibrating within him flickers, making him look as if he’s buzzing.

I open my mouth, but Simon levels a gaze at me, shutting me up.

“You unmitigated bastard. You’re an ass. Do you realize that? I don’t want to lose you either. If you’ve fucking forgotten, I’m a goddamn orphan too, so losing you is just as scary for me as losing me is for you. It’s out o’ the fucking question. I won’t let it happen, and that means I’ll do everything in my fucking power to make sure it doesn’t. Including searching for the people responsible for killing your family.”

Again, my mouth drops open to answer, but he cuts me off.

“I love you, Draven, and I understand why you’re doing this. I sincerely do, but I’m over this conversation. Get out o’ my sight before I punch you in your fucking mouth.”

“Simon…”

“Go,” he yells. The muscles and tendons in his neck flex, standing out from his throat.

I storm from the house, slamming doors as I make my way outside. Over the last few months, Simon has done the sleuthing shit he’s so damn good at while I’ve done everything I can to prepare physically and mentally. I know he’s worried about me. I cannae blame him for being so. I’m worried too, but my worry and his arenae the same. Mine isnae for my own skin, but for his. Every time I’ve said something to him, he’s blown me off.

This argument, the one I’m fleeing, has been the worst yet. I dinnae know what to do. I cannae lose him, but I’m afraid that is where this is all leading. I wish I never shared the letter and papers my grandfather sent with him.

I pace through the gardens, my hands in my pockets and my head down. Before I realize it, I’m walking into the gym. This has been my home for most o’ the last six months. It’s been the place I train, the place I hide, the place I work out my anger, fear, and frustration.

And lately, it’s been the place I retreat to when Simon is being pigheaded. I know he wants to help. I get it, and iffn our positions were reversed, I would be staunchly fixed in the same role he’s taken up.

But they arenae reversed, and I cannae rid myself o’ the terror that fills my mind day and night. I wake up most nights drenched in sweat and snot and tears, clinging to Simon as if doing so will keep him safe from harm.

I know it cannae, but it is all I have to ward off the demons that stalk me in my sleep.

After yet another long, exhausting workout with a couple o’ the sparring partners I’ve hired to train with me, I head back to the house. The kitchen was my destination. My stomach churned and growled with hunger, yet when I came to the fork in the path back up to the house, instead o’ following the path to the kitchens, I chose the one that leads to the side o’ the house where the library is. I dinnae know what called me into that room other than that is where I left Simon when he told me to get out.

Sweaty and stinking like one o’ the pigs on the farm, I open the French doors to the library, pulling my shirt off as I shut the doors behind me. I expected to see Simon here, but he’s nae there. His workspace disnae even look to have been used today, which is strange since when I left the house earlier, there were papers and folders strewn across the top.

I sigh and move across the room toward the hall, hoping to find Simon and apologize for being an ass while pleading my case further. I spy something sitting on my desk. I step toward the desk, my gaze locked on a thick parcel. My name is scrawled across it—the letters sharp and slanted. That’s all that’s on the envelope. Just my name. Nothing else. Nae addresses or postage.

Something about it has the hair on my neck standing up. A weird, otherworldly feeling creeps through me, raising gooseflesh on my skin as it moves along.

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