Chapter 26 #2
I follow, feeling more than a little exhausted. I have gotten used to functioning on little to no sleep, but there's just something about this job that's been completely draining me. Despite knowing I've been out for over ten hours, I still feel like I haven't slept in days.
There's no separation, and although I've infiltrated groups before since joining Cerberus, I've never been fully immersed like I am with this one.
I've always had a break and the ability to decompress after a day of pretending to be someone I'm not.
I don't know how Zayne has done it, time and time again, for so many years, and not gone completely insane.
Being on high alert twenty-four-seven is beyond exhausting, and we've just barely gotten started.
"They're serving dinner for another twenty minutes. Let's go eat," he suggests.
I follow, my eyes scanning everything they land on, my brain cataloging it all.
We don't mention the girl we saw there earlier today, but I know he's thinking about her just as much as I am.
Her story hit the news a few months back, but, as with most other missing-teen stories, people formed opinions about whether she deserved whatever she got for putting herself in a position to go missing.
Her family says she got mixed up with the wrong group, but she was so secretive about who she was spending time with that it left her parents with very little information to give the police when she was gone.
Her story was quickly overshadowed by the next sensational bit of news and was quickly forgotten by the public.
The sad part is that I know the family is suffering. Her parents are losing sleep, not knowing whether every time their phones ring, it's going to be good news that she’s been found or bad news that they've recovered her body.
The dining hall is closer to our cabin than I'd like, cutting our walk and the ability to get to know the place better short, but we're in no position to argue about accommodations.
Stepping inside is a little different this time. We draw attention, of course, but the chatter doesn't completely stop this time, although it does die down some.
I head straight for the food, my eyes downcast, giving off that "don't fuck with me" look despite still being able to look around.
I don't see Regina, and I'm not fool enough to think she was given time off. I hate to imagine the worst things she could be experiencing right now, other than helping prepare meals.
The idea that she could've been sold off while I slept, something that I know happens when women and girls lose their value at a certain location, makes my skin crawl.
The urgency to demand to know where she is eats away at me, but I shove it down, knowing that even if I were given the information, it wouldn't help the other countless females we're here to liberate.
Familiar guilt at feeling like a failure makes my stomach turn, a bubble of disgust swelling in my throat, but despite my lack of desire to eat, I know that I have to. I'm already sleep-deprived. I don't want to add malnourished to that fucking list of things that will prevent me from doing my job.
I pull in a fortifying breath, the expected scowl on my face as I grab a plate.
I may be meant to portray an absolute asshole around these people, but I draw the line at treating these abused women like shit.
I would bet every penny I have that there isn't one woman at this compound who is happy to be here.
The minimum respect you'd give someone just because they're human isn't even a consideration for most of these people.
They're pawns, another thing to own and control, and only useful for so long. My worry for Regina Banks continues to grow as I pile food on my plate.
"The girl," I grunt when one woman is brave enough to make eye contact with me despite my outward demeanor.
"Umm? Which girl?" she asks, her voice timid and full of fear.
I swallow, knowing some of her reaction has to do with how she has been treated long before I arrived.
But I can own that, in part, that she's scared because of what she's heard about me, or it could simply be that she's learned what to expect from every man on this compound, and experience tells her I'll be no different.
"The one who gets the drinks," I say, my tone gruff and expectant as I hold up my two plates of food.
"I can help you with that," she says, a half-smile on her face.
"I want the other girl," I demand, despite not changing the volume of my voice.
She swallows before looking back over her shoulder as if she needs help and knows she can't ask for it.
"Ruby is busy in the back. Let me see if she has a minute."
I stand there, holding enough food to feed three people, and wait.
I feel Zayne's eyes on the side of my face, more than likely glaring at me for making such a demand.
I know that he's probably worried I'm going to ruin our place here, but the alternative to what I would do has an even greater risk of doing that.
The swinging door opens, and instead of the girl I just spoke to coming out and making excuses for Regina, the girl in question comes out, her eyes swarming with fear as she approaches.
"Water, no ice," I grunt. "Please."
I don't wait for her to respond. I simply turn away and walk right to the place where I had breakfast, a side spot that lets me keep an eye on almost everyone in the room.
I dip my head in appreciation when she brings the drink, sliding it close to one of my plates.
"Thanks... Ruby," I say, not looking in her direction, but rather choosing to glare around the room.
I catch another guy looking at me, and I know just how low on the totem pole he is when he drops his eyes back down to his plate. Another guy in the corner holds my gaze, but I see more curiosity than challenge in his eyes, so I hold his gaze for a few more seconds before focusing on dinner.
I'm not a food snob. I'm not one to spend a lot of time researching places to eat.
I was never impressed with the fancy shit my parents would have at dinner parties or one to brag that I had the best steak at whatever place in town.
Hell, I'd be fine with an MRE most days, but there's something to be said for a little seasoning.
It seems either the women preparing the meals have never heard of it, or someone else is dictating what everything tastes like.
It could very possibly be the fact that I'm guilty of eating something prepared by someone who doesn't even want to be here, much less serving men who have probably hurt her at some point.
I look down at the food, wondering if, given the chance, would they poison people?
Would they do it to just certain people, or try to wipe out all of us?
My fork is slow to lift to my mouth with that consideration.
I mean, I wouldn't blame them, but I'd also not like to be on the receiving end of their retribution.
After eating, I simply stand, hating that it's expected for me to leave my dishes on the table for someone else to clean up and resist the urge to leave a fucking tip. I never liked doing that, even growing up in a household that had paid staff. It just feels wrong to me.
I don't wait for Zayne this time. He seems to be in a serious conversation with the man who held my gaze earlier, so I just walk out of the dining hall.
The sound of music and laughter draws me to an area of the compound I haven't been to yet, and although we were given a map, we weren't instructed that there were off-limit areas. So I figure I'm in the perfect position to use the "I didn't know" excuse if I end up somewhere I'm not allowed.
I take the long way around toward the music and chatter, making sure I maintain a look of confused annoyance as I walk, in case anyone sees me on one of their many cameras.
The rows and rows of stacked, crushed cars are more than a little disorienting. They form the walls of the paths in a way, and it's reminiscent of that damn ghost movie I watched a million years ago.
But shit like that has never scared me. Knowing what real, living monsters are capable of, I don't have the energy to waste on the probability of paranormal bullshit.
I turn right at the end of yet another stack of rusty cars, hoping to have the chance to explore a little longer, but it puts me right at a burning fire pit surrounded by group members drinking beer, listening to music, and chatting.
I help myself to the cooler, once again risking that it belongs to someone specific and I'm about to catch shit for it, but no one speaks up when I pull a bottle out.
I twist the top off and take a long pull as I look around.
Curiosity follows me as I hunt for a place far enough away from people, yet still within sight of everyone.
I drop into a lawn chair opposite where I entered and glance around.
No one seems eager to approach and welcome me to the group, and that suits me just fucking fine. It's nearly impossible not to throat punch every fucking asshole here as it is. I don't know what I'd do if I were swarmed by them.
Through the fire, I see Zayne walking up, accompanied by yet another guy, not the same one he was talking with at the dining hall.
His smile is wide as they speak, hands animated as he tells a story, but I can see the reservation in the way he's acting.
The guy performing right now for these people isn't the real man I know, and I can't imagine how impossibly hard it has to be for him.
I know he hates these people just as much as I do, possibly even more, considering his connection to Dakota and her death.