Chapter 3
Zayne
My skin tingles as I notice Ace get up from his spot on the sofa and work his way in this direction. He isn't exactly making a beeline in my direction, but I can tell that getting to me is his end goal.
I know that as sure as I know he and Frankie were talking about me.
It was no different from witnessing all those conversations back in high school, where no one would question who I was or what I had going on to my face.
They spent nearly every lunch period whispering and making furtive glances in my direction.
It was frustrating then, but now, in a room full of nothing but adults, it was growing increasingly infuriating.
I can only imagine my old friend was trying to figure out exactly how to get me not only off this specific team but out of Cerberus entirely, so he could go about his life without the risk of having to lay eyes on me ever again.
The thought is almost soul-crushing, something that would probably have most people tucking their tails and giving in.
I'm nothing like most people. I'm not only secure enough in who I am to hold my head high even when I'm not wanted, but more so, I'm one petty motherfucker.
If Frankie is so put out by the sight of me, then my only recourse is to be in his face every chance I get.
If anyone is leaving this house or Cerberus, it'll be him, not me.
The way that thought hits me right in the center of my very being makes me question my own sanity.
I have wavered, going back and forth a million times, trying to decide whether being here in the first place was a healthy thing for me to endure.
I struggled with it over and over right up until the second I walked into this house moments ago, but the sight of that man somehow calms and enrages me at the same time.
I'd be a fool not to explore what that may mean.
"You'll let us know if you need anything?" Zara asks, her pretty face lit up with her soft smile.
"I will," I promise, knowing that I've never been one to ask for help.
I've always been more of a make-it-happen-myself kind of guy, but it's nice to know there are people around me who would offer a hand if I ever needed it.
"We'll let you get settled," Hemlock says, his voice gruff and with a hint of something else.
This chapter hasn't been active for very long, and his presidency was only announced after his episode that brought Zara and him together.
There's a very good chance that he's not exactly happy with the way I entered the house and dropped a bomb right in the middle of this group that has only very recently gotten to know each other.
I feel a sense of remorse for the way I acted.
I know it can't be easy to keep a team of people with so many different backgrounds and life stories together.
"Meeting first thing in the morning," he says before guiding Zara away.
I'm not left standing there alone for long.
"Nice to see you again," I say, holding out my hand and doing my best to ignore the urge to ask just what in the hell he and my old friend were chatting about.
This entire thing feels much more juvenile than it should, but I imagine that's because the history I have with Frankie comes from a time when neither of us was really even a man. I don't know about him, but I had no real clue about who I was at the time.
His denial in front of this team makes me wonder whether what we shared all those years ago happened only because he was trying to figure out who he was, and now that he's grown, he's well aware of who he is. That leaves me wishing I hadn't opened my damn mouth in the first place.
"You as well," Ace says, clasping my hand in his and giving it a firm shake.
There's a beat of awkward silence, but I spend it looking around the vast room and admiring the expansive height of the ceiling rather than giving in to the urge to look in Frankie’s direction.
I fight it as long as I can manage, no doubt looking like an impressed child, as if I've never been in a house this big, which is far from the truth.
The house I grew up in was just as large.
The difference is, even with the cold shoulder I've gotten from Frankie, I can already tell that this place feels like home to some.
"Do you want me to show you to your room?" Ace asks, and I want to challenge it.
I want to argue and ask why he's so quick to get rid of me, but I know he's just being nice.
Understandably, someone who just spent days traveling on a motorcycle would want to get settled in so soon after arriving.
I'm the one on edge, and I'd be a fool to think this man has any ill will toward me at all.
"Sure," I tell him, losing the battle and looking in Frankie's direction just in time to see the man's back as he walks from the room.
Fresh air slaps me in the face as we walk out the front door. When I make a detour to my bike to grab the minimal things I brought with me from New Mexico, there's enough doubt about what I'm doing here that I contemplate jumping on it and finding something else to do with my life.
Despite all my mental bravado before, I'm exhausted from life and the things I've done and seen in my career, so facing a challenge I could easily walk away from seems like the best choice for me.
But I've never been one to walk away from any opposition in my life. I face things head-on, even knowing that the best possible outcome will still be unfavorable.
"Didn't bring much," Ace says when I rejoin him.
"Don't need much," I explain as I heft the strap of my backpack on my shoulder. "Won't get to wear my own clothes for a while, I imagine."
"True," he says, looking ahead as we round the far side of this cabin and walk thirty feet to the front door of the next one. "This cabin has ten rooms. The other one has fifteen."
"A lot of space for such a small group," I say, walking through the door after he punches in the key code.
"Kincaid is always looking toward the future. The battle we're fighting is going to take a lot more men and women than we currently have."
I grunt in agreement because we both know there are days we're barely ahead of the criminals, and most days we're ten steps behind.
"This is the rec area," he says, walking through the house and turning on lights. "Code to the pool and hot tub is on the door."
"Nice," I say, giving the area he pointed toward a quick glance.
"Theater," he says, flipping on the light in the room to showcase the rows of leather recliners before turning the light back off and pointing to the left. "Half bath over there. The kitchen is on the main floor."
I follow him up the stairs to a massive open area very similar to the cabin we just left.
"The house was turnkey," he says. "Decor can be adjusted, I guess."
"It's great," I say, without a care in the world for what pictures are on the wall.
"You get your pick of a room. Originally, the place had bunk beds and stuff since it was previously used as a short-term rental, but we've already transitioned them to have all kings."
"More rooms upstairs," I say, pointing toward the second staircase.
"Yep."
It may make more sense right now to stay on the main floor just for ease, but I also know more people will come eventually, and I don't want to deal with the hassle of moving. If this house fills up, being as far away from the gathering areas as possible will be better for me.
Instead of saying goodbye, Ace follows me up the stairs. At first, I don't question it. Maybe the guy has to make a log of where everyone will be for some reason, but I fight the urge to crack my neck side to side in irritation when he hovers in the bedroom doorway.
"This one okay?" I ask, trying not to sound as irritated as I feel.
"I mean, they're pretty much all the same," he says.
"Is there something else you need?" I ask, my irritation hitting an all-time high.
"We're just not going to discuss the big elephant in the room at the other cabin?"
I drop my bag on the bed and face him fully, my arms straining at my sides with my need to cross them in front of me, but that would be a sign of weakness or submission, and I refuse to give this man either.
"What elephant?"
He scoffs, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"So you've known Zeus for a long time, huh?" he asks after a long pause, probably realizing I'm not going to have a little gossip session with him.
"Zeus," I mock.
The name is absolutely ridiculous, and with the ego he's had since he was a child, I imagine he came up with it himself.
"How'd he get the name?" I ask over my shoulder as I start pulling my personal belongings out of my bag.
"You don't know?" he asks, and the hint of challenge and protectiveness over the man might as well be an alarm bell.
"I don't know anything about him," I mutter. Keeping my eyes on my working hands, the man standing behind me has every other ounce of my attention.
Curious when he doesn't speak, I turn to face him.
"Franklin Jenkins is a Marine Corps Medal of Honor recipient, but I fully believe he should've gotten eight. One for each bullet hole he got, plus one for each of the three Marines he used his own body to protect."
Every word after 'bullet hole' sounds like a murmur, although his tone never changes. I'm sure if my dad had heard that he'd been injured while serving, he would've told me. It's definitely something I wouldn't forget had I been told.
I'm not surprised that his parents would see him getting hurt as an act of weakness.
That may have kept them from mentioning it back home, but I find it impossible to believe that he would've received the highest military honor in the Marine Corps and not spent every waking hour for the rest of his life boasting about it to anyone who would listen.
"So Zeus then, huh?" I ask as my weight carries me to sit on the end of the bed.
"Stories say he's immortal," Ace says. "Have a good night. I'll lock up downstairs."
He just leaves, his boots carrying him down the hall as if he didn't just leave me with the news that Frankie could've been wiped from this earth, and I never had a clue he was even hurt in the first place.