He pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest. I lap the warmth and love up because I know he’s getting ready to suggest we leave, and I will not be going with him.
Sure enough, he pulls back and says, “Let’s get Dillon and get out o’ here. I want us back in Scotland as soon as possible.”
“I’m not going.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
DRAVEN
Shock zapsthrough me like a lightning bolt. “What do ye mean, yer not going?” I ask.
He disnae respond. Instead, he reaches up and kisses me, but I cannae bring myself to respond.
When he pulls away, I say, “Yer aff yer heid iffn ye think I’m leaving ye here.”
His face stills, all emotion fades away, and then he says, “My place is here with Societas Exspiravit. Yours is in Scotland raising Dillon. I’m not fit to be a role model for a child. I have no clue what to do with him, and he needs you.”
“So do ye, and there’s space for ye both in my life. It’s nae a one or the other situation, mo ghille donn.”
“Yes, it is, because Dillon must come first and I’m greedy. I don’t want to play second fiddle.”
Now the lad’s just making shit up and I tell him so. “So, which is it? Ye’re nae good enough or ye're greedy?”
He licks his lips, his eyes darting around my face so fast I cannae make eye contact with him—a clear sign he’s lying.
“Both. Besides, Everly will release you, but I’ve no hope of getting out of the Society. I’m a founder. How would that look?”
Unable to contain myself, I bellow, “I dinnae give a fuck how it looks! Ye’re my boy! And ye’re going with me!”
“No, I’m not.”
He turns and disappears into the bedroom. I can hear him murmuring to Dillon and then he appears in the doorway. He moves toward me, passing the bairn to me.
“I’m staying. You’re going. That’s the way of things. Take Dillon home. Give him the life he deserves.”
“Tav…”
“Please, go.” He turns and walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The lock snicks into place in the silence.
Everly and her men are sitting together at the table when I walk in, carrying my sister’s baby. Dillon’s her spitting image.
“What’s this?” Everly asks when she looks up at me.
“My nephew,” I say simply.
“I don’t understand.”
“I dinnae ken if ye know all o’ my history?’
She shakes her head, and I continue, “My family died when I was sixteen years old; my father, mother, sister, and my paternal grandparents. They all died within days o’ one another. My parents had nae chosen an alternative guardian after my maternal grandfather died. So, they sent me to an orphanage. That’s where I met my husband, Simon. We grew close, fell in love, and got married. We had a good life. A happy life. Until someone delivered a package of papers. I hadnae idea who sent it. It turned out to be my father’s solicitor who sent it, having overlooked giving it to me when I came into my inheritance.”
“What was in the papers?” Damon asks.
“The truth. That’s what I told Simon when he asked the same question. My father’s parents lived in Sweden, and my grandfather, Carl, discovered information concerning some missing people. People taken by the Order o’ Death. He wrote my father and included copies o’ all the evidence he found. He managed to mail the papers, but before he could go to the authorities, there was a gas explosion that took out a city block. Supposedly, it was a gas leak.”
Rayth scoffs. “Not likely. That was Graeme’s preferred method of eliminating people.”
I nod at the man.
