Page 20 of Daddy's Obsession


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Former Red Raven or not, Gabriel is a civilian now. There’s no need to get him involved further. It’s best if we cut ties now while things are still relatively clean and clear.

If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m still painfully aroused by the whole encounter. I shake my head, doing my best to refocus and forget about the heat of his touch. I don’t have the luxury of time right now. The clock’s ticking and I still don’t have any idea what Dad’s coded message is supposed to mean. Hell, I don’t even know if these accounts are real or how Lucius found out about them in the first place.

I fiddle with my necklace, the hard metal serving as a sort of anchor for my thoughts.

The path forward lies over your heart.

I type Dad’s exact words into Google, but the results aren’t helpful at all. The first thing that pops up is a literal anatomical drawing of a heart, but I seriously doubt Dad has a human organ tucked away somewhere with a key stuffed inside it.

Groaning in frustration, I try a bunch of different combinations of the phrase. Is the clue meant to be literal or figurative? Is it a reference to a piece of music, art, a time period in history? Considering how we’re talking about a life and death situation here, one would think Dad would speak plainly and just tell me the damn answer.

“The path forward lies over your heart,” I mumble aloud, continuing to fiddle with my necklace.

My necklace.

Which lies over my heart.

Huh.

I inspect my mother’s silver pendant. It was a gift from Dad when they first met. He was supposedly so enamored when he first laid eyes on her that he spent actual money to buy it for her instead of swiping it.

The pendant itself is a plain thing, but there’s an elegance in its simplicity. It’s in the shape of a small sphere, no bigger than a quarter, with delicate floral engravings decorating its surface. The smallest of holes where the pendant meets its loop seems like a mistake that only adds to its beauty.

I’ve had this small reminder of my mother with me since I was five years old, but this is the first time I’ve ever thought anything of it. I always assumed it was a flaw in its design, a unique mistake that made the pendant more special. Now I realize it’s so much more than that.

This isn’t a solid pendant, but a locket.

Throwing a cautionary glance over my shoulder, I make sure the coast is clear before I reach into my pocket and pull out my toolkit. I select my thinnest pick. It just barely fits. With one swift flick of my wrist, I pry the locket open.

Out falls a folded piece of paper.

My heart skips a beat.

How long has this been in here?

Holding my breath, I hastily unfold the paper. It’s no bigger than a sticky note, roughly three by three inches with black penmanship on one side. Another code. There’s a jumble of letters written in one long line, followed by a quickly scribbled ‘3 x 6.’

“A Caesar box cipher,” I murmur to myself, recognizing the formatting.

It’s one of the more rudimentary ciphers out there. All I have to do is write out the letters in order, three letters at a time for six rows. Once everything’s aligned, I need to read the message vertically, top to bottom, starting from left to right. Whatever message Dad left for me will surely lead me to the encoded passwords.

Before I can get to cracking, however, someone’s large hand grasps me hard by the shoulder. I whip around, startled to find a massive brute of a man standing right behind me. The man is agoliath. He’s at least six foot seven and probably more than three hundred pounds of pure, powerful muscle. He’s got a mean mug, the kind that even a mother couldn’t love. His eyes are deep set and dark, his lips are thin, and his nose has clearly been broken countless times before and healed wrong.

“Give it to me, girl,” he snaps, one hand swooping in to grab the piece of paper from me.

“Fuck off!” I hiss, immediately launching out of my chair to nail him with a front kick to his stomach. I normally don’t resort to violence, but he caught me by surprise, and Ihatebeing surprised.

My attacker stumbles back and slams into a bookshelf behind him. A few books rattle off onto the floor. The sudden commotion draws way too many eyes for my liking. I need to get out of herenow.

The man is quick to rebalance himself. Before I even have the chance to blink, he’s charging at me with the full force of a typhoon. He wants the piece of paper. Or, more specifically, he wants the code that’s written on it.

I heard rumors.

It occurs to me then that if Lucius knows about the McHale Fortune, there’s a good chance other people might, too. Asshole Broken Nose over here might be one of them.

Before he gets a chance to tackle me, I shove the piece of paper into my mouth and swallow.

“Spit it out, you bitch!” he roars at me.

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