Chapter 8

Six monthsago - Age 24

"Let's go, kid," a rough voice says. "This place is set to blow."

Tears sting as fear and hope collide when Damon's voice breaks through the stillness of the night. I've been sitting here for hours, waiting. I started to believe he betrayed me.

We meticulously planned this night—me, Everly, Damon, Killian, and Rayth. It had to go off without a hitch for me to break free of the Order.

Unable to help myself, I throw myself at Damon.

"Thank God!" I whisper. "I thought you forgot me."

"Never, kid. You saved my girl," he says, pushing me away.

I grab both my backpacks. I hand one to him, and he scowls at me before slinging it over his shoulders.

"I'm ready," I say. My voice is whisper soft, and I'm afraid he didn't hear me, but then he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room behind him.

Damon is one of the Order—or he was. He's a decent guy. I mean, if you discount the number of people I know for a fact he's killed, then he's a decent guy. But when Everly went missing, he, Rayth, and Killian asked me to find her. They knew so little about her; I doubted I could find her.

And I can find anyone and anything.

But, I did it. I finally found her. When I did, their feelings toward the Order changed. All because it was Owen that stole her from their cabin. Owen Black is Everly's stepfather and the head of the Order. He took her from them and held her hostage for months.

As soon as I figured out who she was, it didn't take long to find her. Funnily enough, Owen had her stowed right under our noses. Pulling a few tech tricks out of my sleeve, I sent Damon along with Killian and Rayth to save her.

Now they're returning the favor. Rescuing me from the hell Owen has had me locked in my whole fucking life.

Damon leads me through the mansion that's been my home for most of my life. It wasn't a home, though. It's a prison—one I chose if you can call what happened at that point in my life a choice.

Damon pauses, holding his hand out to push me behind him. If he gets caught with me inside this building, he'll be killed on sight. Owen's made it clear that he has the final say in who is allowed to touch me and who I can spend time with. I belong to Samuel, but Owen is the Master of us both. The other members won't hesitate to exact justice on Damon if we're caught together.

Damon turns to me and presses his finger to his lips, then points toward the hallway, away from the people we can hear talking. Everything has been timed, so there would be very few people here. I don't want any innocents hurt and I know Everly feels the same. We want the Order eradicated, but not at the expense of those who were there unwillingly.

I continue following Damon. Everything inside me vibrates with anticipation. This is the closest I've ever come to getting away from the Order.

If this doesn't work, I'm not sure I can face living another day in the hell my life has become since my father died.

Then there's the clock ticking away in the background, counting down the days until the Order really takes over my life. The deadline to get out is fast approaching. I have to get out before my next birthday. My mother's wealth has been held in trust for me all these years.

This is the moment I've been waiting for since I was little. Tonight is the night I take back my freedom. The night I become a ghost and an official member of Societas Exspiravit.

"Time to make a run for it. You ready, kid?" Damon asks as we stop near a patio door.

Looking back over my shoulder, I nod, swallowing the fear and anxiety. Damon waits. When I look at him, his brow arches and I nod again.

"I'm ready," I reply when he still doesn't open the door.

"Stay low and on my hip. No matter what, keep running until you get into the forest. Everly and the others are out there waiting for us," Damon instructs me.

Another nod from me and another pause from him.

"I got it," I tell him.

"Good."

Damon puts his hand on the door handle, takes a look around, and then he's pushing me out the door. He shuts it behind us and then he's off.

His strides out-pace mine, and I scramble to keep up. Damon reaches out and grabs my arm. He half drags me along with him. My feet trip over each other and I stumble. If not for Damon's hold on me, I would've faceplanted with every other step.

My heart thunders in my chest. The blood rushes in my ears. My vision flashes with every beat. All of it together has me sick to my stomach and feeling like the darkness is nipping at my heels.

I look back over my shoulder toward the house. There's nothing there. At least nothing I can see, but I feel it chasing me.

"Don't look back, dammit!" Damon growls at me.

My head swivels to Damon and the tree line just beyond him. It's in sight. That tree line and the people waiting in it represent freedom and a new life. It's so damn close.

We break through the tree line and I stop, dropping to the forest floor. Sobs shudder through me.

"You're gonna wanna see this," Everly says.

One last quick breath and I get back to my feet. I turn back to the house, standing with the others who are fighting for our freedom from Owen Black and the Order of Death. We're not just fighting for our freedom, though. We've banded together. Our mission: eliminate the Order of Death and find those the Order has stolen and give them back their lives.

The night sky suddenly catches fire. The place I called home for the majority of my life has exploded. The blast sends a cloud of stone, glass, and wood at us. The force knocks me back a couple of steps, even though we chose this spot to put us out of the blast range.

As the glow and heat of the explosion draws us forward, a bittersweet feeling overtakes me, and tears slowly roll down my face. I knew this was coming. It was our plan since Everly and her men made the decision to exact revenge. I never thought I'd feel despair at seeing it leveled, though.

Everly steps up next to me and asks, "You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, I just realized I'm homeless."

Everly tucks her arm through mine. "I have just the spot for you."

I look at her, the tears on my face reflected on hers as well. Seeing the emotion on her face that I feel, too, lets me know the vulnerability I feel isn't something I'm alone in.

"You do?" I ask.

"There's a suite of rooms in the Society's basement set up and waiting for a tech guru. There's a sitting area, bedroom, bathroom, and office area," Everly says.

My chin wobbles and the reverberations flutter through me and it takes me several minutes to respond. "Thank you."

Everly gives my arm a squeeze as she tells me, "There're no thanks necessary. You saved me. You sent the guys after me. This is our way of repaying that debt."

I nod, and she walks back to her men. They watched every second of our interaction. The protection and possession shine in their eyes whenever they look at her. But unlike the possessive gazes I'm used to, the ones I see coming from her men are night and day different. They own her, but only because she wants to be theirs, but it's something she gives them one hundred percent willingly. It's exactly the type of owning I crave.

It's nothing like what I've been subjected to for the last decade. For nearly the last two decades.

Da didn't live in the Order's headquarters willingly. He, and by extension me, was here because Owen ordered it and had Da not complied. Then he and I were both at risk of losing life and limb.

I've heard Owen make threats against me to first Da, and then Samuel, and most recently, he's threatened me directly. I know he won't kill me. At least, not yet. But with my twenty-fifth birthday and Mum's inheritance deadline coming at me like a runaway train, I know my reprieve is limited. Owen will torture me to get what he wants. And what he wants is access to my trust fund.

I still remember how mad he was when Da's Will was read, and he realized that Da wasn't the executor of Mum's estate and my trust fund.

Owen stares at the attorney. His face hard as stone. I've seen that look on his face before. It always shows up just before…

"What the fuck do you mean Buchanan isn't the executor of the estate? Why was he not informed of this?" Owen fumes.

The attorney's Adam's apple slides up and down the scrawny column of the man's neck as he gulps. He opens his mouth several times, but nothing comes out.

Owen's face turns harder and colder the longer we wait. I sat quiet as a mouse, keeping my breaths slow, shallow, and even so as not to draw attention. When Owen is this angry, he's unpredictable. Anyone in his path is subject to his wrath. Sometimes you get off lucky and all that comes out is ridicule. Other times, what you get is violence that would make the most hardened criminal on death row have nightmares.

I do not want to be on the receiving end of whatever comes out of the man. So, I wait and watch. The lawyer still hasn't responded. His eyes are glued to the file in front of him. He glances up a couple of times, but his eyes get nowhere close to meeting mine, so I know they don't meet Owen's since he's almost a foot taller than me.

When the attorney gulps and glances up for what has to be the fourth or fifth time, Owen stands. He straightens his tie and vest, then buttons his suit coat. He turns, circling his chair. I follow him with my eyes, turning my head to keep him in sight.

He won't just leave without getting the answers to his questions. I know this for a fact. That isn't Owen's way of doing things. If he wants to know something, you will give him the answers, or he will pull them from you like a dentist pulling teeth.

"Answer my fucking questions!" Owen yells as he swipes his arm over the credenza between the windows in the lawyer's office.

The crystal decanter and the half empty bottle of Balvenie flies off the credenza toward me in slow motion. My eyes widen as the bottle and decanter get closer and closer, the amber liquid spraying the air as they fly toward me.

My brain kicks into gear and I throw myself to the floor, flattening myself as much as possible. A gasp and a yelp fill the air just before the crystal shatters. Slowly, I peel myself off the floor, raising myself back to my seat.

I'm shaking like a leaf in a tornado. I hate confrontation. I hate explosions of rage like this. They have been too commonplace in my life since Mum died. Looking toward the attorney, because looking at Owen will only invite his wrath. Blood explodes across my taste buds as I clench my teeth to keep from gasping.

The attorney, I should probably know his name, but I don't, is gushing blood from his forehead. His face is wreathed in a mix of pain and shock. His eyes are wide and round and so is his mouth.

"What the fuck, Owen!" He yells.

I shrink into my chair, trying to keep from becoming an innocent bystander, when Owen unleashes the hounds of hell on this idiot attorney. Owen advances on the man, and I scramble away from them.

I squeeze myself into the corner of the office near the door, making myself as tiny as possible. I put my hands over my ears to drown out the sound of Owen screaming and cursing at Da's attorney. The sound, while muted, still gets through and I chew my lips until the metallic taste of copper fills my mouth once again.

Owen jerks the man up from the desk, shaking him like a rag doll. Spittle flies from his mouth, splattering the man's face, mixing with the blood pouring from the wound on his head.

I pull my knees up to my chest. I press my eye sockets over my kneecaps. A kaleidoscope of colors dance around in a sea of black. The sounds scare me, so I press my hands against my head harder and harder. The blood pumping through my skull thuds loudly in my ears, but I can still hear everything going on across the room.

"I can't fix it."

"Don't fucking lie to me!"

"Mr. Black…"

His voice goes silent, and I know better. I really do, but I can't stop myself from raising my head. Owen has the man held up in front of him by the guy's throat. The man's face is this weird reddish-purple color. He's grappling at Owen's hand while Owen shakes him and yells at him.

He's going to kill him. I'm going to watch him kill this man.

It's the only thing running through my head. I can't pull my eyes away. Owen keeps shaking the man, squeezing his throat and then letting up some, so the guy gasps for air then before Owen squeezes again.

After watching this over and over, I begin to believe Owen isn't going to really kill the guy, but then Owen squeezes and the guy struggles frantically while Owen laughs at him. The guy flails, punching Owen in the face.

Owen's nose spurts a river of crimson, and he turns savage. He grabs a statue off the shelf behind the desk and the carnage as Owen bludgeons the man sickens me. Bile bubbles in my stomach, expanding and rising until I cannot hold it back.

Blood splatters through the air, covering everything from the walls, ceiling, and floor to the chairs and desk. It was everywhere. The smell of it, something I've never noticed before, gags me. There can't be anything left in my stomach. I've not eaten much since Da died. I heave. My throat and stomach clench and spasms with every blow Owen lands on the man's face and head. Or what is left of them. He looks like raw ground beef.

"Tavish?"

Startled, I glance around. Everyone is gone but Damon. He stands before me. I wipe my hand over my face. Vibrations barrel through me, making me jittery and anxious. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Curiosity colors his gaze as he nods. "You ready to head to the Society? If we're going to pretend you're dead, we've got to get you out of sight."

"Where are the others?" I ask.

Damon chuckles as he says, "Gone. They're most likely celebrating, and I really don't want to miss that."

I nod and a slow smile tugs at my mouth. If Samuel thinks I'm dead, then I don't have to suffer at his hand or in his bed any more. It's over.

I tilt my head back and laugh. The weight that's been wrapped around my neck like a yoke has faded away into nothingness.

I'm free.