Page 102 of Zeus

"Let's get you home, baby girl," he says, standing and offering her hand.

I wave at her, smiling when she waves back at me before leaving the cabin.

Zayne follows her, looking back at me and pointing to the notebook near my hip before stepping outside with her and closing the door behind them.

I don't know how to fucking feel right now. Everything I thought was happening hasn't been. Never in my wildest dreams did I even consider what I discovered tonight.

I lift the notebook, flipping back to the very first page, and start reading.

I can tell she was hesitant to give him any information at first.

He confided in her, confessing that he wasn't like the men here. Putting faith in her that his confession wouldn't get him killed, and only then did she give him a direct answer.

His block lettering: Are you here of your own free will?

Her pretty scripted scrawl: They're going to get suspicious if we don't have sex.

Him: I'm not going to have sex with you.

Her: You don't think I'm pretty?

Him: I'm not a mark, don't treat me as one.

Her: You're going to get me killed. Maybe we could pretend?

Him: Not a chance. I told you I'm not here to hurt you.

Her: Like with words and sounds, not actual actions.

Her: No one is going to believe that's the way you talk when you're horny. Do better.

Her: Better, but a little less, "do you like it?" and more "take it, bitch."

Him: I'm not calling you a bitch.

Her: You would if you were one of them...

Him: Are you here of your own free will?

She doesn't write her response, but the change in his words suggests she somehow answered him.

Him: It won't be much longer. I swear to you.

Her: They'll kill us both.

Him: Do you have proof of him murdering people?

I read on, noting that she knows that women are being held here like her against their will, but she never reaches the point of saying that she was abducted or trafficked, nor does she say that about the other women. I feel like she thinks she can trust him, but hasn't let herself fully believe it yet.

I snap my eyes up when the door opens, realizing just how volatile it is for him to keep a written record of conversations with her. This place could be sifted through at any moment.

I hold the notebook up to him and mimic lighting a lighter under the corner edge. He dips his head, telling me he has plans to do just that.

"She's fucking perfect, man," he says as he walks across the room and pulls the notebook from my hands.

"Gives pretty decent head," I mutter.

I watch as he scribbles something on one of the pages.