Chapter 8 #2
Oliver circled us slowly, predator assessing prey. “She’s quite lovely. Excellent physical condition too.” His pale eyes gleamed with something that made my skin crawl. “That’s good. Very good.”
Every instinct screamed danger. This wasn’t casual interest—this was something specific, calculated.
“Possessive, I see. I respect that.” He stopped directly in front of us.
“The Gathering starts in three days. Our buyers, our allies, all coming together to celebrate our cause. Weapons demonstrations, strategic planning, and…” His smile turned predatory “…entertainment. Once everyone arrives, things get…interesting.”
“Entertainment?” I kept my voice neutral.
“We’re not just revolutionaries, Coop. We’re brotherhood. And brotherhood requires certain…initiations. Tests of commitment.” His gaze flicked to Mia again. “I think you’ll find it educational. Both of you.”
Somehow, I didn’t think Oliver’s definition of educational matched mine. Mia felt it too. She inched closer.
“Looking forward to it,” I managed.
“I’m sure you are.” Oliver turned toward the lodge, dismissing us with a wave. “Get settled. Tomorrow at 0800, you’ll evaluate our inventory. Don’t be late.”
The cabin was nicer than expected—electricity, running water, actual furniture instead of military surplus.
My first instinct was to sweep for bugs immediately, but that would be wrong.
Coop the arms dealer wouldn’t check for surveillance.
He’d expect it, maybe even respect Oliver for it. Paranoia was currency in this world.
So I played it casual, tossing my stuff on the bed while my eyes did the real work.
The only one I clocked immediately was in the corner of the main room—small camera, probably motion-activated.
I knew there had to be more—bathroom possibly, bedroom definitely.
Nothing I could confirm without making it obvious I was looking.
Oliver was a twisted fuck though, so he’d want to see everything.
Audio would be harder to spot without equipment, but I had to assume the rooms were wired for sound.
The electrical outlets, the light fixtures, maybe even behind the headboard.
Oliver struck me as the type who’d want to hear every word, every whisper, every sound in the night.
Information was power, and he was collecting all of it.
The smart play was to act like I hadn’t noticed. Let Oliver think he had the upper hand, that we were performing for him without knowing it. Everything we said, everything we did, would have to assume an audience. Our conversations would need to stay in character even when we were alone.
“Get over here. I need to smell something nice, after all the testosterone in this place.” I said the words loudly as I pulled Mia close, then leaned down to speak directly into her ear to defeat any audio surveillance. “We need to be careful. Oliver’s watching everything in here.”
She turned her face into my neck, lips barely moving. “There are cameras?”
“One definitely, but I’m sure there’re more. Just follow my lead.”
I pulled back and spoke at normal volume, for our audience. “I need to take a piss.”
In the bathroom, I spotted the camera immediately—poorly concealed in the vent above the mirror. I reached up and ripped it out, holding the device up to examine it.
I walked back into the main room, holding the camera up for the other surveillance devices to see.
“Oliver!” I shouted toward the ceiling, knowing the bedroom and main room were wired. “I don’t mind you watching most things, but a man needs privacy when he shits. Keep your fucking cameras out of the bathroom.”
I crushed the device in my fist, letting the pieces fall onto the coffee table where the other cameras could see them.
I heard footsteps outside almost immediately. One of Oliver’s men, checking on the disturbance. I met him at the cabin door.
“Problem?” It was Bishop, Oliver’s personal security. He’d been around with us all day.
“Yeah, there’s a problem.” I showed him the destroyed camera pieces. “I don’t perform bathroom functions for an audience. Oliver wants to watch me sleep, fuck, whatever—fine. But bathroom’s off-limits.”
Bishop’s expression didn’t change. “Mr. Oliver likes to ensure security.”
“And I like to take a dump in peace. Tell Oliver if he has a problem with that, he can discuss it with me tomorrow. Otherwise, keep the cameras out of the bathroom, or I’ll rip out every one I find.”
Bishop pocketed the destroyed camera pieces. “I’ll relay your message.”
After he left, I caught Mia’s eye and nodded toward the bathroom. “Need to wash up before bed.”
In the bathroom, I closed the door and pulled out the RF detector I’d grabbed from my bag—the same one I’d used in the truck. I swept it carefully across the walls, ceiling, fixtures. Nothing. The bathroom was clean now.
But the detector picked up something else—a steady pulse that made the device light up like Christmas.
Signal jammers. The whole compound was blanketed in electronic interference, strong enough to kill any cell phone, satellite phone, or emergency beacon.
My lifeline to Warrior Security and the task force was completely severed.
I moved the detector toward the small window facing the perimeter.
The jamming signal weakened slightly—not much, but maybe enough.
If I could get closer to that tree line, maybe find the right spot where the jammers had a dead zone, I might be able to get a burst transmission through.
It was a long shot, but it was something.
For now, though, we were completely cut off. No backup. No extraction. No way to call for help.
I turned on the shower, letting the water create white noise, then motioned Mia closer.
“This is the only place we can talk freely,” I said quietly, voice barely above the sound of running water. “But we still need to be careful. Too many private conversations in here will raise suspicions.”
“Can’t we get rid of the cameras? At least in the bedroom?” she whispered.
“No. That would be too suspicious. Oliver expects a certain amount of paranoia, but destroying all his surveillance would tell him we have something to hide.” I checked the door was locked. “We play along, stay in character out there. Every word, every action assumes an audience.”
“So we’re just…on display?”
“Until I figure out how to get you out of here, yes.” I met her eyes, hating myself for what I had to say next. “And tonight… Oliver’s watching. He heard me tell Bishop he could watch me fuck. If we just go to sleep, if nothing happens between us on our first night here…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence. The implications threatened us like a loaded weapon.
Her face went pale. “You’re saying we have to…”
“Make it look real. At least.” The words tasted like poison.
Every protective instinct I’d ever had toward her screamed against it, but the tactical part of my brain knew the truth—Oliver would be watching tonight, waiting to see if I was who I claimed to be.
A man who’d claimed a woman wouldn’t spend his first night with her just sleeping.
“We can fake most of it. Under the covers. But the cameras need to see enough to sell it.”
“God.” She closed her eyes, leaning against the bathroom wall.
“I’m sorry.” The apology felt pathetically inadequate. “I’m so fucking sorry, Mia. But if Oliver thinks this is anything other than what I’ve said—if he suspects you mean anything more to me than just entertainment—”
“He’ll use me against you. Or worse.” She opened her eyes, and I saw steel there alongside the fear. “I understand.”
I wanted to punch through the wall. Six years ago, I’d left to protect her from the darkness in me, and now, I was dragging her straight into hell, asking her to perform depravity for an audience of monsters.
“You need to…” I forced the words out, each one scraping like broken glass. “You need to come out without clothes. Make it look like we just showered together. Like this is normal for us.”
Her knuckles went white as she gripped the edge of the sink. Something shifted in her expression—fear giving way to something else. Determination maybe. Or resignation.
“Okay.” The word came out steady, stronger than I expected. “We perform for the cameras. We sell the lie.”
She reached for the buttons on her shirt.
I turned off the shower and opened the door, leaving her alone in the bathroom. In sixty seconds, everything would change. Oliver would get his show.
And I’d cross a line I could never come back from.