Chapter 12
Tyche
There was no way for Tyche to relax in his cell now.
Not only was that Ruben bastard planning to focus all his attention on Shawn, but the big boss man felt that Tyche had overstayed his welcome.
While it was likely that they still believed he possessed some form of magic, they probably thought it was less impressive than whatever Shawn had going for him.
Normally, Tyche would be pleased to be overlooked and dismissed, but in this case, he was sure it would lead to a premature death if he didn’t get his ass out of there soon.
The only thing that even allowed him to breathe was that Shawn remained dedicated to their escape.
He hadn’t bought into their “let’s help the people” bullshit.
There was not one thing about these assholes that showed they cared about anyone other than themselves.
“You know what I wish?” Shawn called out.
Tyche stopped pacing and stared at the wall that separated him from Shawn. Less than two days had passed since Ruben and Yasmine’s visit, and they’d not spoken much. Simply reaffirmed their escape plan.
Pfft…Yasmine. Scarella’s a better name for her.
“Other than getting out of here?”
“Yes.”
“How about you wish all these bastards to suffer a slow, gruesome, agonizing death?”
“Other than that.”
“Better coffee?”
Shawn snorted. “That’s you. No, I wish I had a ball or something to toss. Just…something to break up the monotony. A guy can only stare at the wall and imagine the death of his enemies for so long.”
“Oh, yes. A ball for you to throw against the wall. That would be great for me to listen to all day, every day until I fucking crack, break out of here and into your cell where I stuff the damn thing down your throat. Mm, yes…brilliant.”
Tyche hadn’t even finished speaking when Shawn’s deep laugh echoed through the cellblock.
The sound tugged at the corners of Tyche’s mouth, teasing out a reluctant smile.
He did have a fantastic laugh. Tyche had heard it once or twice before, though not quite the loud belly laughs that were coming from Shawn right now.
Did he usually laugh a lot?
Would he laugh more after they got the fuck out of there?
What was he even thinking? What did it matter whether Shawn laughed?
Tyche shoved all his fingers into his messy hair and twisted the overgrown locks while stomping to the other side of the cell, putting as much distance between him and Shawn as possible.
He needed to get the fuck out of there. For a new reason now.
He was thinking too much about Shawn. And not just as his escape route from this hell.
But as a person. A person he worried about.
No. No. No.
There would be none of that bullshit.
He couldn’t care about him. That would only cause gigantic problems in the future.
“Come on, Ty. I would share my ball with you. I promise.”
Tyche snorted. “If you gave me that thing, I would flush it down my toilet.”
“Ha! It would be your luck that the ball would clog the toilet and make it overflow. You think they’d come in here to fix that mess?”
Tyche groaned. He was right. His luck had been running pretty shitty for a while now. That was fine. It meant that things were due to turn around. He was more than happy to save up his good luck for their escape.
As he was thinking of a witty comeback to Shawn’s comment, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention.
Tyche froze, unable to decide whether to stay exactly where he was or return to his bed.
It made little difference either way. The bed made him feel safer, even if it wasn’t.
From the other cell, he could hear soft movement as if Shawn was getting out of his bunk to move closer to the bars.
“I wasn’t expecting them to return so soon,” Shawn murmured.
Tyche wanted to suggest that maybe they were getting fed, but he stopped his words as he picked up the sound of several sets of footsteps. There were too many people approaching for a meal delivery.
He darted for the bed and pinched some stuffing from the thin mattress to shove into his ears. He was getting it tucked away when the door buzzed. Someone slammed it open with a bang loud enough to pierce the stuffing. Tyche’s entire body jolted, muscles stiffening as if bracing for that first hit.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the corridor to see a pair of guards dragging in a new prisoner between them.
The poor soul was barely more than a limp rag of a body with their slender limbs loose and feet scraping along the floor.
The guards paused right in front of Tyche’s cell and turned a bit to answer something another set of guards had said behind them.
As he shifted, the prisoner was pointed right at Tyche’s bars, allowing Tyche to see the woman’s battered face behind the strands of brown hair.
Tyche slapped a hand over his mouth to hold in his gasp.
Yesuntei!
That was Yesuntei.
Those bastards had gotten her.
Her face was bloodied, swollen, and bruised, but he recognized her.
But how? How was it even possible that they got her? And where was Cirina? The sisters were never that far apart. At least they hadn’t been when he’d last seen Yesuntei. Of course, that had been so long ago. Lifetimes…
Tyche forced his trembling hand to his side and kept his feet glued to the floor close to his bed.
He prayed the guards hadn’t noticed his reaction, or at least didn’t think too much of it.
From where he was, he couldn’t see too much of what was happening.
It sounded as if they were dropping her in the cell across from Shawn.
He’d started thinking of it as the cursed cell since no prisoner who was stuck in there seemed to last more than a few days.
Now he wanted to take all those evil thoughts back.
Everything inside him demanded that he race to the bars and call out to her, but he had to wait. He couldn’t let them know who she was or that he knew her. Couldn’t let them realize how important she was.
Thoughts banged around in his mind. If Yesuntei was here, did that mean Cirina was dead? She couldn’t be dead. Not another one. Maybe they parted ways. They’d bickered often enough. Maybe Yesuntei had gotten tired of it.
An awful thud filled the silent cellblock, and Tyche knew it was from her frail body hitting the floor.
He held his breath, waiting, but there were no additional cries of pain or terrible noises of them torturing.
A second later, the guards shuffled into the corridor, and the cell door slammed shut.
Tyche turned to face his bunk so he wouldn’t have to look at the guards as they trudged along the passageway and out the door.
He didn’t trust his ability to keep his face unreadable as his brain struggled to deal with this new information.
The main door slammed shut, the metallic sound ringing through the large room, and Tyche swore he could feel it in his chest. Still, he waited.
Hesitating. Should he risk it? What if they were watching?
Could this be a trick? What if she opened her mouth and revealed everything to Shawn?
His so-called partner in escaping could trade that information for his freedom.
No.
Shawn wouldn’t do that.
He hoped…
Shawn felt like a good guy. Honest and trustworthy. The other person who’d been beaten in front of him and died had torn Shawn up. He wouldn’t do anything to risk a woman’s life. Even if she were…
“Hey. You awake over there?” Shawn’s low, gentle voice cut through the silence. Tyche opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Shawn continued. “Can you hear me? You got a name?”
Tyche couldn’t fight the temptation any longer.
He had to know if she was okay and what the hell had happened.
He lunged for the bars, shoving into the corner where the bars and stone wall met.
It was as close as he could get to Yesuntei’s cell.
He couldn’t see her too clearly, but he could make out a bit of her body on the floor.
“Yesuntei!” Tyche called out in a harsh whisper. “Yesuntei, can you hear me? Come on, Teitei. It’s Ty. Please, Teitei, lift your head for me.”
“Ty?” Shawn inquired, and Tyche clenched his teeth.
“Just give me a minute, Shawn. Not now.”
“Okay,” he agreed, and Tyche could take a small breath. He didn’t want to explain things or make up wild stories yet. His only thoughts were about Yesuntei.
A soft scrape of fabric on the floor caught Tyche’s attention, followed by a muffled moan.
Tyche tightened his grip on the bars in front of him and he even placed one foot on the crossbar, lifting himself up.
If he could have, he would have forced his body through the bars, like sifting flour through a wire mesh strainer.
“Tyche?” Her voice was weak and it shook, but it was the voice he knew.
“It’s me. I’m here,” he replied, not caring that she’d used his real name. Few in the world knew it. Besides, he and Shawn weren’t planning to stay in this hellhole for much longer. They would be out of there before his name could mean something to those assholes.
Her slender arms trembled as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.
Tyche could see the blood that streaked her blue-and-white plaid shirt.
Her long brown hair was a knotted mess, blocking half her face from view.
Ragged breathing broke the silence, growing faster and faster.
She gazed about and for a moment, she froze, staring across from her.
“Hey! Hey!” Tyche called out. “That’s just Shawn. He’s okay. Look at me. Teitei, look at me.”
The young woman tore her eyes away from Shawn and spotted Tyche.
One dark brown eye was nearly swollen shut while the other filled with tears.
She blinked, and they spilled down her dirty cheek.
She half crawled and half dragged herself to the bars, positioning herself in the corner so that she was as close as she could get to Tyche.