Chapter Ten #2
Slay had hunted and scouted enough to get a sense for timing.
He listened to the guard making passes through the farm.
They hadn’t stolen enough to set off internal alarms in the casual observer, though someone who specialized in inventory control would realize mushrooms had gone missing.
Then the guard settled, no longer patrolling, and soon—
Hell, I don’t even need to choke him out.
He grinned. “Moving to plan B. This asshole’s asleep. How’s your stealth?”
“I’m not a Noxblade, but I do all right.”
“Follow me, stay close, and don’t touch anything. On three…” He tapped the count on her shoulder and then slid out of the narrow tunnel.
Sure enough, the sentry had dozed off against the wall, not expecting trouble.
Normally this was probably a quiet assignment.
Moving on the balls of his feet, Slay crept past and then froze when a mumble drew his attention.
Talking in his sleep. He signaled to Rowena for them to keep moving and she stayed with him like she’d been on stealth recon missions before. Yeah, she underestimates herself.
Long moments later, they emerged near the edible mushroom farm. It was getting late, judging from how few prisoners were still moving around.
“We did it,” Rowena said, eyes shining.
His first instinct was to pick her up, whirl her around, and kiss the hell out of her. But his impulses had caused problems before, time to rein them in. Slay wouldn’t frighten her for the world and besides, they didn’t have time to fuck around.
“They’ll be ringing the curfew bell soon,” he said, “so we’re not in the clear yet.”
“Shit, we still need to deliver these. If we take them back with us, there will be questions. And the sooner we get rid of these the better.”
The undercity was eerie at this hour. Most of the rushlights had been extinguished and Slay found his vision skimming between night and normal, creating strange afterburn ghosts that crawled around his periphery.
Or fuck, maybe there were actual ghosts.
Enough prisoners had died down here to bathe the place in blood.
This fresh isolation meant it would be easier for the guards to spot them if they were looking.
“These shrooms, are they contraband? Will the assholes try to seize them?”
Rowena shrugged. “They’re not illegal, but they do sub as currency, so who knows? The guards do whatever they want. Who’s going to stop them?”
“You make a good point.” Goddamn but he wanted to kill everyone involved in oppressing her people.
Normally, he wouldn’t bless a scheme for mass poisoning, but all the guards who cooperated with that bastard Vega to grind their own people down?
He had no time or sympathy for any of them.
Doubtless they had reasons or rather excuses but fuck them all.
Poison and liver necrosis sounded about right, and hopefully they’d die in agony.
“If we hurry, we can still make our drop,” Rowena said, urgency coloring her tone.
Like she had before, she grasped his wrist and he angled his hand, lacing their fingers together.
While she shot him a surprised look, she didn’t pull away.
Honestly, he didn’t mind letting her drag him around, but he liked the feel of her hand in his.
Something about it felt like a promise. Unfortunately, the site was on the other side of the undercity, and they got there as the curfew bell rang.
Nobody was around at least. The populace was cowed enough that it didn’t take a huge number of guards to keep thousands of prisoners in check.
That bastard Vega and his enforcers thought they’d broken the Gol spirit—and in some cases, they had.
But not my Rowena.
A little chill rippled through him when he framed the possessive thought, but it didn’t seem wrong. Rather, it felt as right as anything ever had.
Not all my instincts are wrong.
While Slay stood watch, she hid their harvest and then they started back to the flophouse. Slay was starting to think they’d gotten away with it when two guards strode toward them, clean intercept between them and their assigned housing. Yeah, that word’s a fucking stretch.
Oh fuck.
At closer range, he recognized Lucan, the skid mark with a hard-on for Ro and a bad case of hurt feelings.
Anyone who let rejection make them do unspeakable things clearly wasn’t okay to begin with and Slay would say that this asshole deserved to have his insides mauled by a jaguar.
Without hesitation, he put himself between the patrolmen and Rowena.
She touched his arm, and Lucan watched that exchange with pale, hate-filled eyes.
Please can I kill this shit lord? The other one would have to die too.
There had to be a tunnel where he could stash the bodies.
Already his jaguar snarled, ready to leap, even if it burned the last of his energy. He let out a breath, still slightly afraid that he’d end up feral.
“Already breaking the rules?” Lucan said to Rowena. “That’s convenient. Now our king has a legitimate reason to punish you.”
He reached out and slapped restraints on her before Slay could react. “You’ve been summoned, Rowena. As promised, I told him all about you. No need to thank me, your expression is all the reward I need.”