Chapter 11

When I first approached himoutside, a war erupted within me, pushing and pulling me in opposite directions. First, kill. Then protect. They battle one another for dominance as I inch closer to my target. And I had to think o' him like that. I had to reduce him to an object to get my body on board with the vow I'd made to my family.

When he said we were similar and offered to show me how, whatever it was I saw in that warehouse, whatever it was about him that night that grabbed my attention, came out to play in full force and I had to know more.

Which is how I find myself locked inside the elevator with him. As the elevator stops and the doors open, I'm confronted with a room filled with people. All o' them facing one guy.

"Join them," the boy, Tavish, says as he places a hand on my back, giving me a small push.

I join the line o' people just as the man who seems to be in charge steps forward. He looks oddly familiar.

Have we met before or was his photo one o' the ones included in the documents like the boy's?

"You have been brought here to join Societas Exspiravit. Your options are simple. You can join us and die to the life you once had, using your newfound freedom in a life after death to help rid this world of those who seek to harm innocent people. Or…you can die permanently. The choice is yours."

What the actual fuck?

What kind o' choice is that?

What the fucking hell did I get myself into?

At least now I know what the kid meant by nae all deaths lead to a grave.

I take a deep, calming breath. I knew coming here tonight could mean my death. If I die, I know I can rest easy because I arranged for the information on how to find Maeve to get into the right hands.

Douglas will find her if I don't come out o' this alive. He's never failed me.

The crack o' the gun echoes off the walls. It doesn't scare me as much as the small eep I hear come from the boy who has led me to what will be my death enrages me. Nae at him, but for him. Ignoring the gunfire and the reason behind it, my gaze swings to him.

I'm baffled by my reaction to his distress. I dinnae ken why. The boy lit something inside me with only a wee glimpse o' his face. Now that he's before me, my protective instincts—the Daddy within me—roars to life. Tavish has gone ashen. His face gray and shiny with sweat. His eyes glued to a spot behind me.

Turning to follow his gaze, I realize he's staring at one o' the people in line. Only they're now lying on the floor. Blood puddles under them growing larger with each passing second.

I look back at Tavish, and he's barely holding it together. The protective Daddy in me, the one that's laid dormant since Simon died in my arms, comes raging to the surface. I want to scoop the kid up and shelter him from all the shit that surrounds him.

That surrounds us.

Clenching my jaw, I look back to the asshole who fired a shot into the head o' the person lying dead on the ground a few feet away just as he asks, "Anyone else care to end it all?"

Nae a single soul dares to move. Like stone statues, everyone freezes in place, hesitating to even take a breath.

"Very well. You may enter and join our ranks," the man says, heading toward the only door in the room other than the elevator.

Tavish skirts the woman lying dead on the floor. He heads into the room where our clusterfuck o' an introduction to the Society was held in front o'. The line o' people who were smart enough to keep their yap shut turn to follow him. Each o' us step over the bloody corpse. Her lifeless eyes stare up at us as we do so.

As the last in line, I am the last to enter the room. I watch the man wielding the gun and spouting shit as he walks ahead o' me. He seems to be an enforcer o' sorts. When he enters the room, I notice he takes a spot next to a small woman and two other men.

My head pivots to the boy—to Tavish—and back to the four standing together.

And that's when it hits me.

They may nae be my enemy. They may be my way to Maeve.

Because they are the ones from the clearing. I'm certain o' it.

They are the ones who watched as the Order o' Death exploded in a fiery ball o' destruction, raining debris down around us.

Now I know why my body and mind were at such odds outside. The kid's nae a target. He's someone I need to protect, to care for.

As I study him while I wait my turn, I catalog his appearance and interactions with the others in the room. He's definitely o' the squeamish sort. He gulps and swallows any time his gaze lands on the tattoo artist. Since I already witnessed his aversion to blood, it's nae stretch o' the imagination to say the needles might also be an issue.

The process o' joining this macabre group seems to include some mutilation. Some o' those who stood in line with me are having something burned off their bodies, while others are only being tattooed. I've an abundance o' tattoos, but I've nae desire to be branded, so I'm happy I'm nae shuttled into that line.

I glance back at Tavish. It seems he's part o' the Society's leadership, holding a position o' trust o' some sort. The guy in front o' him is giving him some issues, but Tavish holds his own with the man.

I let my eyes travel over his face. He's fucking beautiful. As I watch him catalog the newcomers, I realize he looks a wee bit like Simon. I cannae put my finger on what it is, though.

It's nae his size. Simon was a big man in relation to most. I still overshadowed him in both height and width, and I dwarf Tavish. He's a wee man compared to me. Pressing him against the wall and pulling him up on his toes still didn't bring him to my shoulders. So it's definitely nae his size, and it's nae their structure because Tavish is slim and sculpted, whereas Simon was thick and muscular.

Tavish must feel my gaze because his eyes meet mine. His cheeks redden and he tilts his chin down to hide his reaction. But I can see his mouth twitch. He glances back up at me and that's when I realize what it is.

It's the eyes. They're almost the exact same shape and color. The deep dark brown makes them look like onyx on a moonless night, only catching the light when it hits them just so.

But there's something else in Tavish's eyes. Something I used to see in Simon's. Not the emotion but recognition and acceptance I always found in Simon seemed to be there in Tavish's gaze. As if it was Simon looking out at me from within Tavish.

I shake my head at the ridiculousness o' my thoughts. Simon is dead and it disnae matter that this kid's eyes gaze at me with appreciation. He's nae Simon and he never will be.

I sit for my tattoo. The artist seems to know what he's doing, but he also seems distracted by two others in the room. I'm nae sure what that's all about, but whatever it is, it's not my concern unless he makes it so.

When all is said and done, I've been inked, poked, pricked, and scanned. I'm holding the communication device in my hand that Tavish gave to me. I'm nae sure what all it does. Tavish gave me brief instructions on how to use the communication device to access the Society's secure info and receive jobs.

I'll figure it out later. Right now I have questions and Tavish said he'd give me the answers I seek depending on the choice I made. Well, I made the choice that kept me alive. Now he needs to stick to his promise.