Chapter 10

I walkalong the perimeter of my new home. The one Everly, Rayth, Damon, and Killian built from the ashes of the Order of Death. As winter gave way to spring and then to summer, they, along with those of us who flipped sides from the Order to the Society, have worked to build a new system. A new order. One to take the place of the Order of Death that went kaboom several months ago. One with a mission that's the polar opposite of what the Order followed.

Societas Exspiravit.

When first discussing the Society, I'd recommended we keep the old mansion the Order used, but I much prefer what we did with that place. Seeing it go up in flames after we razed it with explosions was cathartic. It's been several months and relief and freedom still flood my system whenever I think of that night in the forest when Damon rescued me.

Looking up at the imposing facade of the Society, I cannot help but think about how the building fits the name of the organization it now houses. It's big, dark, and looming like a ghost in the night.

Everly did good.

I continue walking. It is dark as pitch. The building blocks out the glow of the full moon. It's darker here against the stone walls than my little cave in the basement, which is only lit up by the glow from the vast array of computer monitors.

Those rooms below ground are my haven. Not unlike the one I had in the old Order. Only this one I didn't earn on my back and I didn't have to worry about a gun being put to my head for no reason.

Everly has been good to me. She denies that, saying she is only repaying a debt. I don't think of it that way. I provided information. That is all. Her men, who are scary as fuck, did the rest. Everly and I have agreed to disagree.

I should be inside. Not out here walking around as if I have nothing to do. Tonight is our first full-fledged initiation. I have shit to do. A ton. But I'm praying that the cat has taken the bait and will attempt to capture the mouse that's been taunting him.

I pause, glancing down at my watch. It's not what you would think a tech geek like me would wear. But then again, most people are fucktards. Smartwatches and technology of that nature are tracking devices at best and listening devices at worst.

They are not for this tech boy.

I'll stick to the diving watch that's wrapped around my wrist. Completely analog. It does a lot more than tell time, but there's no Wi-Fi or Bluetooth connection. That means no one is using it against me.

Growing up on the fringes of a dark, dangerous society of cruel, evil men made me paranoid. I'm good with that. Paranoia keeps me vigilant, and being on your toes is never a bad thing.

A hand clamps over my mouth. It is so big that it covers the lower half of my face. My eyes hurt from rounding and bulging in surprise.

Please be who I've been waiting for.

Samuel is still out there. Somehow, the asshole avoided being blown to bits when the manor went kapluie. I don't want to believe someone tipped him off, but he'd messaged me earlier the day of the explosion, telling me he would visit me that evening.

He never showed.

The hand around my face throws me against the stone wall forcibly. A gasp escapes, muffled by the massive paw covering half my face. Terrified, I look up at my assailant, and I'm instantly relieved. My wish has come true.

It's him.

I sigh, and it turns to a purr as the enormous mitt of his hand slides from my mouth to my throat, pinning me to the wall. My toes barely touch the ground.

I've thought of breath play with this man ever since I caught a glimpse of him. Especially after I found his and Simon's profiles on a BDSM website. What I wouldn't have given to be sandwiched between the two tops who were searching for a third. I don't know why I find it so fucking sexy.

The hand wrapped around my throat squeezes tighter and the vision of being taken by Draven and his now dead husband vanishes. His hand gripping my throat…it's not like I imagined. This isn't the wee bit sexy. I want the sexy man I envisioned. But that's not what I have before me.

What I got is angry and vengeful.

"Yer going to die. Ye and all the rest o' yer kind."

I hold up my hand like I was in class.

"What?" he asks his eyes wide and eyebrows arched.

"I know who you are."

I hope that gets his attention. At least long enough to keep him from snapping my neck.

"Oh, really, and who is that?" he asks.

I can't help but smirk when what I want to say slides through my gray matter. I don't think I am cheeky enough to say my big-arse Viking Daddy, but I want to. So much.

"Well? I"m waiting."

Swallowing, I lick my lips. "You're the one I"ve been searching for."

His eyes narrow. "Why have ye been searching for me?"

Oh, sweet Mother of Jesus.

"Because you and I have something in common."

He scowls, his face growing even darker and more sinister. I should be afraid. I watched this man kill multiple people. Without remorse.

Granted, they all deserved to meet their fate.

"I"m doubting that, ghille," he growls at me.

"Tav, you need some help with him?" someone asks.

I can't see who because of the hunk of sexy in front of me, but I'm not complaining. I want him to block the world from me all the time.

Plus, I may be a little shit, but I"m not without some skill thanks to Everly's men and Zayn. They"ve all made sure I can wield a knife effectively.

"Dinnae fash yerself."

"I'm fine."

Our voices mingle together as we speak over each another.

"Your idea of fine and mine are vastly different, Tav."

I listen to his steps continue toward the front of the house. I keep my gaze trained on Draven, unable to look away from my captor's gorgeous, chiseled face. The face of God. He is perfection.

"Explain yerself, ye wee jobby," Draven says.

"Umm, I've been in the States so long I'm more American than Scot, so if that's an insult, I've got no clue."

"Tell me what we have in common," he grits out.

I can see the frustration on his face. The grin I want to flash at him teases my lips. I can imagine spending my life frustrating him until he takes it out on my ass.

Now is not the time, I remind myself.

"I'd rather show you," I say.

"Show me what?"

"How we're similar."

"Ye think can show me that? Here o' all places?"

"Yes, I know I can. I've been watching you. I know the things you've done. I feel like this is where you belong."

"Okay, show me," he says.

"There's just one thing…"

"And that is?"

"If you go inside, you're going to die."

He stares at me. "Are ye fucking shitting me?"

That brogue of his has my cock rising fast and oh so hard.

"No. You'll have a choice."

"What sorta choice is there if going inside means death?"

"Not all deaths lead to a grave," I explain.

Come on, big guy. Take the chance.

When he doesn't say anything, I promise, "You won't regret it. I'll make sure of it."

Indecision flashes on his face. I feel the grip on my neck loosen. My heels drop to the ground.

"Show me," he says as steps back.

I reach out to him, offering him my hand. "Let's introduce you to Damon."

Draven looks down at my hand and then back at me. "Lead the way."

I nod, walking around him as I try to keep the disappointment at bay. I knew he would be skeptical. I knew he wouldn't trust me because he thinks I'm one of them. One of the old Order. He knows what kind of people they are. They stole and enslaved his sister. They killed his parents, orphaning him. Then, when he got too close, they killed his husband.

We enter the house, walking through the front hall to the elevator. The white marble floors sparkle underneath our feet. I stop in front of the elevator, pressing the call button.

I fucking hate this part. The door swishes open, and we step in. I insert my finger in the scanner, feeling the prick. Popping my poor, abused finger into my mouth before I smell or see the blood, I remove my glasses and lean forward. The glass of light glows brightly in the dim area where the elevator is.

The door swooshes closed, but Draven grabs hold of it before it closes completely

"Where's it go?" he asks.

"The basement," I say.

"What's down there?"

I sigh as the door opens fully again. "Shit. Now my finger is getting stuck again. In the basement are all the things you want to see, to know."

"How do you know what I want?"

Okay. He's pissing me off. I know it's only natural that he is wary, but I hate being questioned. It happens all the time because people mistake size with intelligence and ability.

Taking a deep breath, I say, "It's one thing we have in common."

I step toward the scanner again. He grabs me, holding me in place, staring down at me.

"Second thoughts?" I ask.

His mouth opens to respond, but he's interrupted by the buzzing in my pocket.

"Shit."

I pull my phone and the comms unit out of my pocket. Looking at them, you can't tell the difference between them. They both look like ordinary cell phones, but one of them I've redesigned for the Society.

"Listen, I've gotta get downstairs. There are some scary fuckers down there, and I don't want to piss them off by showing up late. So, if you want to see the show, you must let the elevator door close."

His jaw pops and twitches like he's grinding his teeth. "Go on, then," he says.

Going through the scanning process again, we watch the door slide closed. I glance at him. He looks poised to strike, like a coiled-up snake. I lay a hand on his folded arms.

"When the doors open, we'll be in an open area. Damon will be waiting. He's one of the three in charge. He will explain things, and then he'll give you the options. Depending on your choice, any questions you have once everything is over with, I'll answer them."

"The choice is death or death, but one means I won't die?" he asked.

His expression fillets me to my soul. He looks almost hopeful. I'm not sure which option he's hoping for. I knew about his family. He lost his sister, parents, and his husband to the Order of Death. He isn't any different from so many others. I only hope his desire to save Maeve will keep him focused on staying alive.

The elevator stops, and the doors slide open. Damon stands in front of a group of people, all of them lined up and kneeling in front of him as if he were a God. I'm sure Everly thinks so, but he's not my type. Not that I have a type. The only man I've willingly been with was out of desperation.

That's not willing.

I clear my throat to dislodge that runaway train from the tracks. It is difficult, but I managed to tuck nearly eight years of abuse away. I did what I had to, and I didn't regret it.

Much.

"Join them," I whisper to Draven.

He looks down at me, hesitating for a moment before marching his fine ass over to the line. He's beautiful and lethal, all smushed together in a sexy package. My dick is still twitching from him shoving me up against…

The loud crack of Damon's gun startles me, pulling me from my perusal of the man I've been watching, and reminds me of why this portion of the ceremony is being done down here and not upstairs, as I suggested. I pray the small gasp I made wasn't loud enough for anyone else to hear.

Some assassin I'd make. I cannot even be in the same room with a bloody corpse.

It's a damn good thing I'm not needed for wet work.

I glance at them to see and catch sight of the mess the woman Damon shot is making on the floor. I swallow, forcing the bile climbing my throat back to my belly. The smell of the blood and the sight of it has me shaken.

I didn't want anyone down here that wasn't part of the Society. I had envisioned Damon standing on the landing upstairs, where the massive staircase in the entryway splits to the left and right before going up to the second floor. I wanted him to walk down the stairs in the entryway as he delivered his speech.

Killian stared at me. The emotionless bastard never even blinked. I like to think I shocked him with my superior intellect and ideas. Unless he tells me otherwise, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Everly and Zayn cackled at me as they called me dramatic. So, I'm thinking Killian probably thought I was an idiot.

Damon just sighed and pointed out how hard cleaning blood off marble is.

What can I say? None of them were wrong. That didn't mean it wouldn't have been epic. I'd spent nearly twenty years of my life living in fear and under the control of Owen Black and the Order. I'd played the part of the mouse. Now I wanted to be the cat. I think I deserve a bit of a show after everything I've been through.

My eyes hadn't left Draven since he stepped in front of Damon. As Damon finishes his speech, I steel myself to step over the corpse to take my place off to the side, ready to open the door.

Damon turns and I open the door, following him into the room. The new initiates follow us. The other members involved in tonight's ceremony direct the recruits on their next steps and I head to my station.

As I watch him, I see something like recognition dawn on his face. It's as if a weight lifts and the anger shimmers away like dew under the light of day.

When Zayn tattoos Draven, he drops to his knees to swear fealty. The pose of submission looks hot as fuck on the big Scottish Viking. How one man can look like the picture perfect sub while the atmosphere surrounding him vibrates with his dominance is a conundrum I'm likely never to understand.

He stands and walks toward me, glancing at me. I've been waiting for this day since I first set eyes on him in the code all those years ago. The look on his face as he realizes I'm not his prey is priceless. Those icy blue eyes pin me to the floor, and I'm unable to look away.