Library

Chapter 12

As everyone filtersout of the ceremony, going their own ways, my eyes stay glued to Draven. I wait and watch. As does he.

When the room is empty, Draven says, "I have questions."

I nod, turn, and walk out of the room. This room is not secure enough for me to speak with him.

"Crivvens," he says harshly.

I stop, gasping at the word. I turn to him, the sound of the word echoing through my mind.

"What's that mean?"

"I thought ye were a Scot?"

I sigh, then explain, "Follow me."

He scoffs under his breath, but follows along behind me. When we get to my rooms, I close and lock the door.

"For someone who seems to have a position within the Society, why're you in the basement?" he asks.

I look around my rooms. I like it down here. I feel safe here. I control who gets down here and no one else.

"I chose these rooms. I like it down here. Plus, the Order believes I'm dead and I like that, too," I tell him.

I walk over to my stash of snacks. The last few days have been stressful, and snacking is how I cope. I pull out an energy drink, my favorite chips, and the sour gummy candies I love so much, and sit down at my desk. Draven leans against the wall behind me, so I swivel around.

I open the chips and candy, sticking my face into the bags. The smells fill my nose—the sour sweetness and salty potato are like a dose of calm. The chips are the super thick, extra crisp kind. They don't have any weird flavors—just plain. I love them. I order them by the case, but when things are tough like they have been, I'm thankful that I have other ways of getting them.

Popping a chip into my mouth, I savor the thick, salty goodness as I set the candy to the side.

"I am Scottish, but the Order of the Death, or rather, Owen Black, forced my father and me to move to the States when I was six. We'd barely laid my mother in the ground before we were forced on a plane. They didn't want me, but I was good leverage to keep my father in line. At least in the beginning."

"So that's why ye and yer da came to be here. Why you've lost the brogue and your heritage?"

I shove more chips in my mouth, sucking the salt from them as I contemplate how much to trust him. When the salt is gone, I chew and swallow them so I can answer him.

"Yes, I lost the brogue and the language, but what I'm going to tell you, no one here knows, so I'm trusting you to not betray me," I caution.

His face is stoic and stoney. But even that impenetrable facade can't distract from how gorgeous the man is. His face is chiseled and hard, but when it crumbles…that's when you realize just how beautiful he really can be. I remember seeing some photos of him as a teenager. They'd been taken before my father murdered his family and stole his sister. He was a happy, smiling kid. Big as hell, but it was like the sun lived within him. All that changed with the death of his family, but the big change came when Simon died. What little light left after his family passed, what little light Simon helped him rediscover, flickered out when Simon left this earth.

His arms, which are crossed over his chest, drop, and his hands slide into his pants pockets before he says, "Agreed."

"Everyone thought Owen brought me to the Order for leverage against my father. That is not the case. He brought me to the States because my mother's will left everything to me. I've been working to put the Order to death because on my twenty-fifth birthday, my mother's estate comes to me fully. So, I didn't lose my heritage, it was only put away for safekeeping. So you see, I was not brought as leverage against my father. On the contrary, my father was only allowed to live so he could care for me," I explained.

He stares at me. His gaze unfocused. As I watch him process the things I said, I could almost see the cogs spinning inside his head.

"What happened after your father died?" he asks.

It's my turn to stare. My hands go numb. Cold seeps up my body from the ground until I'm close to shivering. I try to keep that shit out of my head. He can't possibly know what sort of life I've lived since Da died.

"A nightmare of a story for a different day," I say.

He watches me for a moment, then nods, pulling out the comms device I gave him after he swore fealty to Everly.

"What the fuck is this for?" he asks.

I chuckle. "It's a phone. It's for communicating."

"Dinnae be a smart ass, ghille."

"Ghille? What's that mean?"

"Boy. Now tell me what this thing is for," he demands.

"I wasn't being a smart ass," I say, but as the quit bullshitting me look settles on his face, I continue. "Okay. I was, but not completely. It is a phone, and it is a communication device, but it's been customized for the Society. We have a secure network, and we only communicate on the network or about Society business with those devices," I explain.

He nods and slides his back into his pocket. "So, what do I do now?" he asks.

"Like Damon said, you're going to disappear from your life before today."

He shakes his head. "I cannae do that. I have people who are counting on me for their support. I have an estate to run."

"And a sister to find," I deadpan.

"What do you know about my sister?" he demands, advancing on me. His face morphing from curiosity to feral in an instant.

"Her name is Maeve Helvig, and my father stole her out of the wreckage that killed your parents before he replaced her with someone else and set fire to their car. He sold Maeve to a brothel owner to keep Owen Black happy. She has been in the brothel owner's stable of talent since then."

He jerks me out of my chair by my shoulders and slams me against the wall. My head crashes into the wall with so much force that sickness washes through me, forcing me to swallow to keep from spewing on the gorgeous bastard.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I'm still looking for her. The brothel owner has girls all over the world. He bounces them around. They all do. That's my job here. To find the people responsible and send someone out to rid the world of the bastards. It's why I enticed you here. To give you some anonymity and protection. I found you on the dark web looking for Maeve. You hadn't covered your tracks at all. If I wanted, I could've walked up to the front door of your manor house and knocked."

"I won't stop looking for her," he vowed.

"I don't expect you to. I told you. That's why I brought you here. To help you."

I don't mention her age. She's on the older side for a person in her position. We will be lucky if she's still alive.

Before I can go into further detail, my comms unit vibrates in my pocket. Most of the members call it a phone, and that pisses me off. No phone does what I designed these things to do. Granted, all the tech is there, which is why it was so easy for me to hack and redesign, but still yet. It's not a freaking phone, dammit.

Everly's name appears on the screen, and I swear under my breath.

"Tavish?" she asks as soon as the call connects.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment, Everly," I tell her.

"Yes, I know you're busy, but I need you for something."

My eyes lock onto Draven's as I contemplate telling her no, but then I remember that she and her men saved me. They pulled me out of a life of slavery and abuse and gave me a place in this new Society. One I've helped build and am an integral part of.

"What do you need?"

Everly rattles off the information I need to find Zayn, and I grimace. I don't know why she's so freaking worked up about him leaving headquarters, but whatever. I settle behind my computer, tapping at the keys to bring it to life. Within a minute or two, I have the information for her. She hangs up without another word, and I toss my device on the desk.

"Are ye always at their beck and call?"

I glance up at Draven, and while I don't see it that way, I can see why he does. "Yes, and no. She only calls when she needs something. Most of the requests aren't time-sensitive like that one. Those go through the network."

He nods. "So I've been "invited" into the Society o' Ghosts, and now I must disappear from my former life. What am I to do about my people and estate?"

"You set things up so that it looks like you're on an extended vacation. You're already living in the country under an alias, so we will continue with that for now."

"Okay. What's next?"

"You'll do what you've been doing. Looking for your sister. Only now, you'll have someone that can help you search. I'll send you links to jobs through your comms unit; you'll carry them out based on the information in the contract I send you. Then you'll get paid for completing the job."

"What kind o' jobs are ye talking about?"

"Contract killings."

"I'm nae a murderer," Draven protests.

"You are now. Well, in a way. Murderer isn't quite the right term. Assassin is more fitting."

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.