Page 10 of Breaking the Code

But that’s not what caught my attention. It’s who’s in the photo. It’s been ten years since I saw my family alive and breathing. Ten years since I laid them to rest, entering an orphanage to live a life devoid o’ family. Ten years since police officers told me Mum, Dad, and Maeve had all perished in a car accident. Yet I’m holding evidence to the contrary.

Maeve’s alive.

CHAPTER THREE

TAVISH

Nine years ago - Age 16

I sneak through the mansion from my and Da’s rooms to Cato’s. Cato’s super cool. Kinda stuck in a goth phase, but he’s smart as hell. I pause at the sound of voices. I’m not allowed to wander through the mansion. If I’m found, Da will be forced to whip me.

It’s only ever happened the one time, but that was enough for me.

Hiding is my special talent. It is what I do best. I’ve always been good at it. Mum taught me to play to my strengths.

“Tavish, love, you are small, but you are fast and smart. Stand your ground only when you have no other options,” she whispered to me.

It was one of the last things she said to me before she slipped into the coma she never awakened from. It was a reminder. One I’ve replayed in my mind many times since she last said it to me.

I remind myself that playing to your strengths is strategic. Not weak. That’s logic I can get behind.

The voices that stop me in my tracks grow louder. I hold my breath, moving toward the spot I found years ago that will allow me to see into the room where they hold their secret meetings. Da and Owen are in the room and Owen’s berating Da. He’s not screaming. Although he’s done that plenty of times in the past. No, this time, he’s doing that really creepy, scary, low, growly voice where he talks super slow.

These face-offs between them are getting more and more frequent. As are the appraising glances I get from some of the Order. Owen’s lack of respect for Da, and Da’s for Owen, is becoming clearer by the day. Da wants more responsibility, yet he’s fucked up so many tasks he’s been given; Owen doesn’t trust him anymore.

This time Da’s fucked up yet another task. He’d been gone for a few days and only just returned. Owen had met him in the entry hall and had I not known what the man was capable of, it might have been funny watching him get called on the carpet.

“One more fuck up, and I won’t care if you leave the boy an orphan,” Owen said. “Now, get out of my sight.”

Da opens his mouth but at the lift of Owen’s brow, he closes it and spins on his heel, stomping from the room.

Listening to them now reminds me of the first time I heard the two of them go at it. I was hiding then too. Most people might think hiding is cowardly, but hiding is a very handy tool. You learn a lot when no one knows you’re around. Especially when you’re only six years old, and people don’t know you’re not where you’re supposed to be.

I make myself as small and invisible as possible. I cower, tears racing down my face as I tuck myself into a tiny ball. On the other side of the painting I hide behind, my mum lies in her big bed, barely alive.

I’ve always loved lying in that bed cuddled up to her. It’s been forever since I was allowed to do so. Nanny said it was hurting her, so I quit. I need her to stay with me. She is all I have.

My da is talking to several men. I don’t understand what they’re talking about, but I know it’s about Mum.

“Graeme, did she sign the papers?” one of the men asks.

Da shakes his head. “No. The cunt held her ground. I threatened the kid, but she still refused.”

“You owe the Order, Graeme. And the Order always gets paid.”

Da stammers.

“Graeme, you will take care of the Helvig family. That is your payment.”

“Helvig? But I just returned from Sweden.”

A loud crack splits the air, and Da yells. Da is mean to me, so this man must be very, very mean.

“You idiot. You have fucked up enough. You will do as you are told from here on out and without comment or questions. The Helvig I speak of is the younger one. That mess you made in Sweden with the older Helvig has to be cleaned up. The old man wrote a letter to his son about what he found. We cannot let that information get out.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“If I have to explain things to you, then you’re useless to me, Graeme.”

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