Page 94 of Zeus

Zayne

“This is nice,” Sable whispers as I step aside and let her enter the cabin.

I want to challenge her. There's nothing nice about this place. It's bare bones at best, and if there were a person in charge of organizational requirements and amenities, as the child welfare people have, they'd shut this place down in a heartbeat. I've heard stories from people who experienced conversion camps that were nicer than what we're provided here.

"Home sweet home," I say instead as I step in behind her and close us inside.

She's a really sweet girl, and if I had to guess, I'd say she was fairly new here. She still has a way about her that tells me she's unsure whether her actions are okay or if she's doing something wrong, and she's worried about the consequences.

"What do you want?" she asks, her smile fading as she turns around to face me.

Her hands are already working at the buttons on her flannel, but I hold my hand out to stop her from getting undressed. She gives me a weird look, confusion drawing her eyebrows tighter, but she doesn't speak her concern.

She has to know that our place is bugged. She either knows that because it's common knowledge, or the place where the women are kept is also under some sort of surveillance. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't have cameras all over their place, both to keep them in line and also for perverts to watch every move they make as some sick fucking form of entertainment.

Her eyes dart to the door as if she's thinking of running, all the while calculating the consequences of her actions if she tries.

I couldn't have asked for a better situation to be put in. I have no doubt we could just sit in silence for half an hour, and this girl wouldn't go back and rat me out. Hell, she might make up a story and lie, telling whoever might ask that we did all sorts of shit we didn't actually do.

"I've had a long fucking day," I tell her.

She simply watches me, waiting to find out exactly what her fate is.

"Let's start with a back massage."

I just need to kill some time. Obviously, whoever has access to the listening device here could easily play this back and realize nothing fucking happened. I need a minute to fucking figure out how to handle this.

I wanted her to talk on the way here so I could gauge her loyalty to this place. Getting information from women is a tricky game, but it's the easiest way. I couldn't tell on our walk over if she was scared to talk or protective of the organization.

I'm still not certain that the innocent girl and the damsel-in-distress act aren't part of a bigger ploy to find out what my level of loyalty is, either. I've seen more than one agent get burned by a woman.

As much as everyone who works for places like Cerberus and other federal agencies that infiltrate these organizations wants to think that all the women are innocent or they are acting out of duress, I know firsthand that isn't the case.

Some women are just as evil as the men are.

Her approaching me that first night was suspicious, and I know it had to have come at the recommendation of someone in control of her.

After the conversation at The Garage earlier, I have to assume Bobby is trying to find out something about us that we aren't disclosing, and he has sent this girl to get me to slip up in some way.

I collapse on the bottom bunk, taking only a second to breathe in the scent of Zeus on the sheets before angling my head back to look at her.

She's standing in the middle of the tiny room, wringing her hands together. I really want to believe she can be an ally, but I'm not ready to pull the trigger on that right now. I couldn't in this room if I wanted to.

"It hurts mostly right here," I say, curling my arm behind my back and indicating the center. "I must've tweaked it when we were moving mattresses today."

It's not a wild idea. Those things were heavy, soiled with years of prior use and with all the things that slough off your body when you sleep. Plus, there's no fucking telling what else stained those filthy things. I suddenly regret not following Zeus to the restroom to wash my hands before having lunch.

"Sable?" I prod. "My back?"

She nods quickly, stepping forward.

"Need me to get on the floor?" I ask. "Will give you more room?"

The upper bunk doesn't give her much space to maneuver.

"I can manage," she says as she straddles me.

The weight of her body on mine makes me feel disgusting. It's not that a woman is touching me. It's knowing that she doesn't want to.