Page 6 of Breaking the Code

Hesitantly, I reach for the envelope. The feeling o’ dread that grows within me overtakes my entire being, replacing every feeling in me with every negative emotion I can think of. Sighing, I run my finger under the tape holding the letter closed.

Reaching inside, I pull out the contents and immediately drop them. I watch everything flutter to the floor as if someone’s pressed slow motion on a video. Photos o’ Simon litter the floor around me. Some o’ us together, but mostly they are just o’ him.

When the last o’ the papers settle, I read the note that landed on top o’ the mess I dropped. The handwriting on the note matches that on the envelope.

The price of your vendetta will be his death.

“Simon!” I scream his name.

My voice cracks on the sharp edge o’ the fear that buzzes through me vibrating just under my skin. I race through the house searching for Simon, but he’s nae to be found.

“Simon!”

Panic clouds my mind, pushing out all reasonable thought. Emotion chokes me. I trek slowly back through the house, hoping I’ve just overlooked him. I know I have nae, but I turn every room inside out, anyway.

I stop in the entry hall, pausing for a moment only to head toward the kitchens when the kitchen door bangs shut.

“Simon!” I call out as I run toward the noise.

Oh, dear God! Please, God! Let me find him. Please, let him be okay.

CHAPTER TWO

DRAVEN

Nine years ago - Age 26

A drizzly rain comes down in a fine mist, drenching me just as well as a downpour, only less annoying. The lush green countryside o’ my mother’s homeland surrounds me. We moved here from Sweden when I was about eight so Mum could care for my grandmother. When she died; we stayed. My grandfather had been gone for years and my mother was the heir to the title and land. It was now mine, but I couldn't care less.

I love Scotland. I always have, but now I’m nae sure what I think or feel.

The priest’s monotone voice drones on.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

It’s nae the first time I’ve heard those words. Both times, I lost everyone I cared about and everyone who cared about me.

I didnae lose them.

The thought skids across my mind, reminding me o’ the evil lurks in the shadows. I’ve known that since my parents and little sister died in a car accident, leaving me alone in the world.

My parents provided for me in the event o' their death, but they failed to consider who would raise me. Not that I needed much raising, but I was already well into my teens. But they hadnae arranged a caregiver. Well, they had, but only the one set and they died just days before.

It’s one o' those things in life that I cannae decide if I love or hate them for. If they had followed through with a secondary plan, I wouldnae have met Simon, and having him in my life was worth the stent at the orphanage with the nuns.

“You’ll be comfortable here, Draven,” the nun says as she leads me through the halls.

It was the biggest lie I’d ever been told.

Orphanages arenae good places. Maybe I was just unlucky. Whatever the situation was, then, I survived it and thrived.

Until the day I walked the halls with Sister Annie, I led a charmed life. I had two parents who loved me and each other. Who provided for me. Protected me. That was all ripped away from me, minute by minute—day by day.

It was all gone.

My charmed life—gone.

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