Page 58 of Zeus

The lack of street lights this far up the mountain helps keep us hidden, but as dark as it is up here, I know better than to think we're secluded enough that others wouldn't have a clue what's going on. There are so many tiny houses up here, each of them tucked away and hidden from the road, that they have to do some serious scouting not only to find these places but also to know when the hunting cabins are going to be occupied. An empty cabin would be a waste of time. They're going after expensive guns, no doubt because they can't be traced back to the organization, expensive personal belongings, and cash these guys may be carrying on them.

Hitting an empty cabin might score them a Coleman lantern or two, and that's about it. These guys pack in and pack out most everything else because of the likelihood that their cabin could be robbed while they're away.

"Do we get keys and take the trucks?" Zayne asks, his breath forming condensation on the passenger window, with his face so close to the glass as he tries to get a better look.

"Sometimes we do," Scott says. "Those are much too new. Can't risk the GPS tracking back to us. There will be times we'll grab a vehicle, but they're usually much older."

"Not much money in chopping cars these days, huh?" Zayne asks, another attempt to get information we can use later out of the guy.

Scott is too busy typing something into his phone to answer, and the distraction allows me to look from the back seat and attempt to see what he's doing, but the bastard has one of those blackout screens on his phone, making it impossible to see what he's up to.

"Money is in the guns," I say in an effort to get the guy back on task, or at a minimum, talking and revealing secrets.

Scott scoffs once again, and the noise grates on my nerves. He almost sounds like an English bulldog sneezing or having trouble breathing.

"The guns are currency for bigger and better things," he says, tucking his phone away. "We ready to do this?"

As talkative as he’s been on the drive up here, he's more than willing to share information on hitting these hunting cabins, but also a little tight-lipped on the other workings of their activities. We can presume all day long that the bigger and better things include trafficking women, but until he says it or we witness it happening, it's not proof.

"Born ready," Zayne says as he opens the passenger side door and climbs out.

I follow suit, making sure to gently press the door closed rather than closing it like I normally would if I weren't about to commit numerous felonies.

Scott is just as quiet as he gets out of the car, taking a look around before unlocking the trunk so we can grab weapons.

He seems a little fidgety, and I notice a hint of paranoia in his eyes when the light from inside the trunk shines on his face.

"You have concerns?" I ask as I reach in for a rifle.

A handgun would probably suffice in a situation like this, but I guess they like the show of force.

"Nope," he says, reaching for his own weapon. "Bobby said you guys did great the other night, but this is my show. I take the lead, and you follow me. Got it?"

"Sounds good," Zayne says, stepping around me to pull a rifle from the trunk. "Is this the only place we're hitting tonight?"

"Only one," Scott confirms. "And that's good because I have shit to do."

We met this guy at midnight. Between meeting up at The Garage and gearing up from a room stocked with more weapons than I thought I'd ever see outside of The League's compound, it's going on half past one in the morning at this point. As the saying goes, nothing good happens after midnight; there's no telling what Scott has planned after this. Maybe we'll get lucky, and he'll invite us along so we can gather more intel and evidence on the group.

"Follow my lead," he reminds the two of us before crouching low as if he's entering a war zone as he makes his way to the back door of the cabin.

Zayne follows behind him, and I take up the tail, hiding a grin when Zayne looks back at me, his eyes rolling in the moonlight at how ridiculous Scott looks. The guy has obviously played too much Call of Duty.

Stupidly, the back door is unlocked, but I guess that's good for us. Knowing we're entering a place where the men are armed, it's best that they have no pre-warning of our arrival. Zayne and I are trying to get a job done, and it doesn't include getting shot because these guys know we're coming.

"Two trucks," Zayne whispers as he scans the room.

This cabin is no different from any of the others I've seen. It's almost bare-bones, only the essentials needed for a weekend hunting trip. There are no comforts of home, no decor. Simple. Efficient.

The set of queen-sized bunk beds on the far wall only reveals one lump on the bottom bunk. The top bunk doesn't even have sheets, blankets, or pillows.

I swallow, freezing when I realize what we're looking at, and in that same moment, I hear Zayne whisper, "Fuck" under his breath as he comes to the same conclusion.

Things just got a lot more serious.

"I should've fucking known," Scott snaps, his voice booming through the cabin, loud enough to wake the neighbors, so it's no surprise when the single lump moves, forming two separate people. "Look what we have here, guys."

With his rifle pointed precariously at the men, it's more than a little unstable when Scott pulls his left hand from the weapon to flip the light on.