Page 66 of Zeus

"Home," he repeats as if trying to convince himself that we're heading exactly where he wants to be.

I know this is the perfect next step for the mission, but for both of us, it's the last place we actually want to be.

Home...

It's such a weird concept for me. I don't know that I've felt at home anywhere other than in the fucking sand pit with my guys, and five bullets killed that dream for me in the blink of an eye.

I blow out one final breath of freedom before climbing into the truck, and I can't help but feel as if I'm willingly heading toward a firing squad when Zayne backs the truck out of the narrow drive and heads toward the compound.

The concept of home, of belonging, of found family bounces around in my head as we silently drive.

I longed so much for something like that, a place where my beliefs were not only accepted but shared by others. A place where there was safety in numbers, and a line of people willing to stand up for what they believe in.

The compound doesn't even come close to aligning with my beliefs or my desires. But I can see how attractive a place like that would be for lost souls, how easily they could form opinions to match the others, even when it's something they never considered before. Mob mentality is so real, and for those people looking for love and acceptance, maybe accepting what others believe as real or true is very easy if, in return, they have people in their corner with them when their entire lives had been a struggle just to survive until that point.

Those thoughts take me back to my scattered memories of Dakota, wondering how different her views would have had to have been from those of her family to land her tangled up with the kind of people we're about to join.

I know she was loved, even if her parents ignored her more often than was acceptable. I know Zayne thought the world of her.

I also know that the idea of love can make you do some off-the-wall shit.

I saw it in Zayne's eyes all those years ago. I knew that leaving would break his heart less than what I would have to do had he let those words slip out.

Plus, how can someone I spent so little time with love me when my parents spent my lifetime wishing they'd picked a different kid?

I'm not so out of touch that I think I'm unlovable. I know there's value in my existence, but a romantic love? Not a chance.

I growl, shoving down the well of emotion those thoughts conjure. It's the last thing I should concern myself with, given our current situation.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Zayne snaps, clearly annoyed and no doubt a little lost in his own head.

He presses his palm to the horn, the noise it makes too low for the fury behind the driver.

I look over at him, but he keeps his eyes forward.

I have no way of knowing if he's angry at the slow ass driver in front of us, if my flinch earlier when he went to touch me is eating at him, or if he's pissed he decided to get into this line of work in the first place.

I can't ask, not without being overheard, and if I take a minute to be honest with myself, I don't know that I'd be prepared for his answer. I certainly wouldn't have any fucking wisdom to impart that might settle him a little.

Instead, I reach over, press my palm gently to his thigh, give it a little squeeze, then pull my hand away.

His eyes dart toward mine for a split second, his head dipping as if he understands all that I want to say, but I know that's impossible, because I have no idea which direction I would take given the opportunity to speak freely.

Chapter 25

Zayne

I don't know what's worse—having experience with places like the one we're heading to and knowing what to expect, or being blind and only able to make assumptions, like Zeus has to be doing.

I can't count the number of times I wanted to turn this fucking truck around and head back to the Cerberus property on the drive over here. I still haven't made up my mind that I wouldn't do exactly that until I pull up to the gate, the guy walking out to greet us making the decision for me.

Instead of being questioned like a couple of cops, like the last time we were here, the guy smiles, immediately accepting us as brethren.

"I'm Ricky," he says, leaning a little further into the truck.

I lean back, the stench coming off him almost thick enough that it's a tangible thing.

"We may be fucking wrong about the water heater situation," Zeus mutters.