38. TALIESIN
Breaking out of a high security prison shouldn’t feel this easy.
It’s unnatural.
Every instinct I have, honed by years of dodging COs and scrap-fighting in the Ashgrave gutters, is screaming at me to stay in the shadows, to hold my breath, to wait for the inevitable scream of a siren.
Instead, we’re…strolling.
Francois leads the way with his cocksure arrogance that makes my skin crawl. He doesn’t bother to check around corners, or even keep his fucking voice down.
Behind him, I’m the one doing the not-so-heavy lifting. Imran is a skeletal weight across my back, his thin arms looped weakly around my neck. He’s seventeen going on eighty, and every time he lets out a wet, rattling cough against my shoulder, I feel a piece of my own heart chip away.
It’s like carrying a bundle of dry sticks.
Passing through the corridor from education to the Guild block, the guard called Copeland steps out, his hand already hovering over a stun-baton. “Hey, fuckers. Where do you think you’re going? Back to your cells, there’s a headcount.”
Francois raises a hand, stepping forward until he’s inches from the guy’s face.
Those light-drinking eyes lock onto Copeland’s pupils.
“You were just about to unlock the next gate for us,” Francois murmurs, his voice rippling with that strange, magnetic weight.
“And give us your security ID. Then you’ll find a quiet place to sleep.
When you wake, you won’t remember a thing. ”
The guard’s face goes slack. His jaw drops just a fraction. “Let me get the gate for you,” he replies, letting out a long yawn. He hands over his security cards and wanders away, leaving the gate swinging wide.
“Laughable,” Francois sighs, gesturing for us to follow. “The mental fortitude around here is profoundly lacking.”
Rory looks at him, then at me, her eyes wide and full of a fear she’s trying to hide. “I hate that motherfucker,” she hisses under her breath.
“Frank?”
“That guard, Copeland.”
Francois stops dead in his tracks. He turns slowly, his eyes fixing on Aurora. “He laid his hands on you, chérie?”
“He certainly tried to,” she growls, her fists clenching at her sides.
Francois turns to look past her shoulder, targeting the ambling shape of the guard down the corridor. He raises his right hand, his fingers twisting in a sharp plucking motion as a green spark flares across his knuckles.
A muffled, agonized groan echoes from the darkness down the hall as Copeland suddenly collapses to his knees, clutching his skull before crawling into the shadows.
“The man will suffer a pain that will never lessen when he awakes,” Francois says smoothly, turning back around to lead the way. “He’ll wish for death before a week has gone by.”
Yes. Good. I give de Vaux a brief nod of approval as I adjust my grip on Imran’s legs.
Rory blinks. “Oh, uh, thanks, I guess.”
“Pas de problème. Let’s go, we have places to be beyond this basse-fosse.”
We set off again, our footsteps muffled by the hum of the ventilation system. The silence of the corridor feels heavy, pressing in on us with the weight of what we are attempting.
I shift Imran’s weight again. The kid isn’t heavy, but his bones dig into my back. Every time he exhales, I feel the vibration of his rattling lungs against my spine.
My mind drifts back to the small farm my parents moved to when I was twelve. They’d inherited it from a great aunt. My dad would sit on the porch in his wheelchair, after the accident at the Anther plant.
“I always thought the greatest thing for a man to be was a provider. If you couldn’t provide for your family, what use were you? And look at me now, Tally. Legs that don’t work, and I’ll never again have a paycheck.”
I thought he was sad, but instead he smiled at me.
“But I’ve learned that’s not true. Your mom works hard, provides, and she doesn’t resent me at all. I can cook some, I can help a little, but mostly, I’ve adapted to a change that I thought would end me.”
He clapped a hand on my back. “The worst can happen and you will either die, or get through it. It’s one or the other. Just make sure you don’t end up alive but full of resentment about what could have been. There’s no point. There’s only today, and tomorrow and hopefully the day after that.”
At the time I’d thought that kinda morose, but it’s that attitude that’s allowed me to get through Quo. I can’t change what’s happened, I can only keep moving forward.
I glance at the side of Aurora’s face. She’s walking with that elegant, dancer’s grace, moving into an unknown future.
And I’m so fucking glad I’m by her side.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she whispers, her shoulder bumping mine.
“Just remembering something my old man said,” I grunt. “About adapting to change.”
“A useful skill in our current situation,” she says softly, her hand brushing mine again.
“Save the sentiment, wolf,” Francois drawls from the front, not even turning around. “We are entering the Guild’s territory. The air here is… different.”
He’s right. The temperature has dropped by several degrees, and the lighting is more consistent.
“I’m going to see my mom soon, right, Tally?” Imran’s voice is a dry rasp against my ear.
“Save your breath, Im. You’ll see her soon enough.”
Gods willing.
We turn into the long tunnel that acts as a bridge between the Guild blocks and the industrial guts of the prison. The scent hits me before the movement does: stale sweat, unwashed fat, and an unhealthy mixture of lust and hate.
I pull Rory behind me, shielding both her and the dying boy on my back.
“Bevan?” Francois asks, his voice bored. “Is your primitive brain grinding to a halt?”
“Shut up,” I hiss. “Something ahead.”
Shadows shift against the damp concrete, silhouetted by the weak emergency lights. As we move closer, the sight that greets us isn’t exactly a threat—unless it’s to the content of my stomach. Fucking gross.
Gleb is there, backed against a stack of industrial crates.
His face is twisted in a mask of sweaty exertion, his breathing coming out in hog-like snorts.
Odessa is pinned between him and the metal, her head tilted back against his shoulder.
Her navy jumpsuit is unzipped to the waist, and Gleb’s thick hand is buried deep inside the fabric, working with a frantic, desperate rhythm.
They freeze. Gleb’s hand jerks out. “What the fuck, Gleb? Get back to it,” Odessa hisses, eyes still closed.
“Bevan,” Gleb growls.
She peels open her eyes, utterly devoid of shame. “Fuck off, sewer rats.”
"Dimitry know you use his grunts to get off?" I sneer, my hand tightening on my shiv. How the fuck is this going to play out?
Odessa doesn’t flinch. Instead, a slow, cat-like grin spreads across her face. She reaches back, fisting her hand in Gleb’s hair. “Let’s see if your tongue is better than your fingers.” She presses Gleb’s head into her crotch, not letting him move.
“Mon Dieu,” Francois sighs from beside me, his voice dripping with disgust. “It is like mating time in a zoo. Hideous.”
Odessa laughs sharply, then looks at me. “We’re all animals here, de Vaux, or didn’t you realize that? What about you, Bevan? I’ve heard Diggers are hard workers, I’ll give that a try.”
“Fuck off, you gross bitch,” Aurora hisses pushing in front of me.
“Jealous?” Her laugh echoes around the corridor. "Gleb can’t actually fuck anyone anymore, thanks to you, so the least you can do is let your boyfriend fuck me. I’m sure that would be preferable to your frigid pussy.”
Gleb rears back, his face now a violent shade of purple. He staggers to his feet, pulling a shiv from somewhere. “You bitch,” he screams at Odessa, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.
She simply points a manicured finger at Aurora.
“Don’t get mad at me, you big, stupid animal.” In the dim light her eyes seem to be dancing with a sick kind of glee. "There’s the one who took your not very manly-manhood. Why don’t you show her exactly how much you’ve missed your poor little pee-pee?”
The redirection is instant. Gleb’s rage pivots on a dime, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Aurora with a renewed, sharpened focus. He ignores the rest of us entirely.
“Princess Slut," he rasps, the shiv trembling in his grip. “Time for payback.”
I push Rory back. "Stay clear, he’s coming in hot," I mutter. I let Imran slide off my back, but before the kid even hits the ground, I see Aurora move.
In one fluid motion, she passes the skeletal weight of Imran over to a startled Francois. The Frenchman catches the boy with a look of utter bewilderment, his arms full of dying Digger while Aurora launches into a blur of motion.
She doesn’t go for Gleb. She goes for the source—with a perfect, tight spin—a pirouette fueled by pure, unadulterated venom. Her leg whips out in a high, arcing extension, and her heel connects with the side of Odessa’s jaw with a sickening, bone-deep crack.
Odessa’s head snaps back, her eyes rolling as she’s slammed against the crates. She hits the floor in a heap of exposed tits and navy twill.
Aurora staggers but remains upright, her chest heaving. “Guess what, Odessa?” she hisses in a lethal whisper. “The Ballerina Butcher decided to make a house call.”
Gleb lets out a guttural roar and lunges but I catch his wrist in mid-air. “Not today, you fat fuck,” I growl.
The beast inside me howls to attack, but Francois—still awkwardly cradling Imran with one arm—reaches out with his free hand and lays a single finger on Gleb’s shoulder.
Instantly, the Russian’s eyes roll back in his head and he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.
“He’s dead,” Francois says, his breathing barely elevated. He looks down at Gleb’s corpse, then at the unconscious Odessa, then finally at the dying boy in his arms. “Now, if we are quite finished with the theatrics, I would very much like to stop carrying this… person. Onward.”
That was my fucking kill. Boiling with an anger that is almost out of control, I scoop Imran back out of Francois’s stiff arms and grab Rory’s hand, tight.
We leave the Guild trash in the dark where they belong.