Page 116 of Zeus

"First, we're going to beat every fucking ounce of information out of you," one says as he steps forward, breath fogging up the plastic on his PPE hood.

"Then," the second one continues, holding up a fucking syringe filled with a horrific amount of golden liquid. "We're going to shoot you up."

"That's where the real fun begins," the third one says, only it's not the goon I had spit on speaking.

Scott's voice echoes around the room, and when I look in his direction, my left eye is already swelling from fighting against them. I realize that things can actually get much worse.

"Fuck," I mutter.

So much for dying with dignity.

Chapter 36

Zeus

We're less than ten minutes from the compound, and every fucking mile seems like a hundred.

My knee is bobbing up and down, fingers tapping on my thigh.

There's a sense of fucking urgency inside of me that's fighting the urge to knock the fucking guy behind the wheel out so I can drive, even if it only gets us there a minute or two faster.

"You're fucking twitchy," the guy beside me says. "What the fuck is going on?"

I look over at him, snarl in place, but the worst fucking thing that can happen is something that prevents me from getting back into the compound so I can find Zayne.

"Do you know how fucking hard it is to watch you guys smoke and not take a hit myself?" I lie.

"Dude?" the driver says. "You could've had a hit."

"He's got fucking court," the guy beside him says, slapping his friend in the chest with the back of his hand. "That's insensitive."

"Just having one of those hard-ass days," I mutter, watching as the guy in the passenger seat pulls out his phone.

He gets a text, the information he's been given making him freeze. I watch as he fights the urge to look in my direction. An eeriness settles over me, confirmation in how he's acting enough to make me understand that shit has gone south.

He slides the phone across the seat as if I'm not high enough in the backseat to see him do it.

When the driver looks down and reads it, his eyes meet mine in the rearview. The second he snaps them back to the fucking road, I know it's over.

What I can't decide is if I lose my shit in this vehicle, forcing them to pull over, or if I have a better chance of finding Zayne if I let them take me back into the compound.

"Motherfucker," the guy behind the wheel mutters, just as the whoop of a cop car makes its presence known behind us. "What do I do?"

"Just get us back home," the guy in the passenger seat urges. "We have the cops around here in our pocket."

I look over my shoulder, paying more attention to the dark SUV behind the cop car.

I swallow, feeling both hopeful and terrified at the same time.

I know what it takes to breach a compound like the one The League of Liberty is operating out of. I know the forewarning they'll have prepares them in ways that will end in some sort of tragedy.

"Are you a fucking cop?" the passenger demands as the driver slows, but still hasn't pulled over yet.

"No," I tell him honestly.

He looks down at his phone, typing feverishly into the motherfucker, when honestly, a fucking phone call would work faster, but you can't tell these idiots shit.

"I have to pull over," the driver says.