I’m conflicted, torn between my revenge and the need to protect my family, but I already know the answer, and that’s why I’m here instead of out of state and returning to my normal life. I laugh bitterly to myself. Normal life was wrecked the moment I got the phone call from my parents about Katy. There’s no going back. I sold my soul for revenge, and these are my consequences. A hollow, empty life without my little sister’s laughter, and the bad guys have won.
The office door opens, and I open my eyes, twisting in the chair to see who it is. I straighten in my seat in surprise when I see Mr. Johnson standing in the doorway with an enraged expression.
“Mr. Drake, when you’re finished I'd like you to come along to my office. We need to talk,” he says stiffly.
His tone warns me not to argue and that it’s not a request. He doesn’t wait for me, instead slamming the door and leaving me alone in the office surrounded by the hum of computers. As I shut down all the programs I was using to control the malware attack of my own making, my mind starts to calm and think more rationally and I’m hit with the realization that he addressed me as ‘Drake’. I grit my teeth in annoyance. Devin must have told him everything. So much for protecting me and helping me keep my family safe. I shouldn’t have allowed my fear to blind me into trusting him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Devin
I slip away, leaving Ethan to do his work. He’s made it very clear he doesn’t want me to be around him, and I figure it’s best if I start making preparations for what I’m about to do. I don’t want to go to prison, but it’s what I deserve. Honestly, it’s what more than half of the members of the founding families of The Society deserve. Ours is a legacy of blood and crime. We’ve more blood on our hands, staining our lives and our wealth than almost any of the other Societies that are scattered across the country.
I decided to go find Sebastian. He’s probably wondering where the hell I am by now if he hadn’t heard my car as I pulled up the drive. Last time he saw me I was storming out of here in an angry but determined mood. He was the only one I told where I was going, and he’s the one I most need to talk to about my next move.
When I see he’s not in his room, I head to the theater room where we have a huge plasma screen and games consoles. He’s probably playing Call of Duty, or watching a movie or something. I don’t find him there either, so I assume he must be with Quinn at her house. I catch sight of myself in the reflection on the black screen and almost don’t recognize myself. I’m a complete wreck. My clothes are rumpled, and my hair is an unruly mess. I think my next port of call should be my bedroom for a shower and a change of clothes since I’ve been wearing these for more than twenty-four hours.
I shoot Sebastian a text to let him know I’m home and to that I need to talk to him. I’d call him but this isn’t the kind of conversation I’m going to have over the phone. Tossing my phone onto the nightstand in my bedroom, I make my way into the shower. I need to freshen up, and then I need to get back to Ethan before my father gets home. I don’t trust my father to stay away, but I’m hoping he’ll have the sense to wait until Ethan has finished before he interferes. If he pisses off Ethan enough, I wouldn’t expect Ethan to do anything less than destroy the entire network. There was no way I was going to hang around Ethan with him needing to concentrate, and risk distracting him. I fucked up big time, and the consequences are biting me in the ass because there is no way to undo what I’ve done. I offered him the best thing I could to get him back here, safety for him and his family, and justice for his sister.
I stand in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles, and the heat to sink into my skin. I smile faintly to myself, recalling the feel of Ethan kissing me, touching me, fucking me. The slight sting when the soap kisses my sore skin brings a bitter taste to my mouth. He fucked me as good as he hates me, and even when it hurt, it was pure fucking bliss to be with him. Our first time will no doubt be the last, as I doubt I’ll ever see him again except maybe in court when I’m pleading guilty to killing his sister.
I slam my fist against the tiles, relishing the dull ache that spreads through my knuckles. I despise who I’ve become. I’ve let my father twist and warp me into the killer he wanted me to be, and though for a time I enjoyed it, the innocent lives I’ve taken weigh heavily on my conscience. I’ve tried so hard to make light of them, to let them wash over me like water, but they cling to my skin like days old blood, peeling and cracking the same way my fucking soul has since I murdered my best friend six years ago.
“You need to do this, Devin,” my father says, holding out the gun.
“He’s my best friend, I can’t,” I hiss, pushing it away and shaking my head.
“He’s not good enough for you. I thought I’d raised you
