Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Shey remained curled up on the ice-cold concrete floor, breathing through the pain. His head throbbed, and blood leaked into one eye, causing it to burn. But at least nothing felt like it was broken.
He didn’t know how much time passed, but it was enough that the cold floor had helped to ease some pains filling his body. There was a sound from Ty’s cell. The soft scrape of the other man’s shoe as it hit the floor. A couple of soft footsteps.
“Shawn?” Ty’s voice was hesitant, quavering as if caught on a breeze. “You…you still alive over there?” There was a hint of a laugh, as if he’d tried to make it a joke, but it died off quickly. Shey could almost feel the panic building in Ty.
“We’ll go after a meal is delivered,” Shey replied in a low, steady voice, repeating their plan as they’d discussed it so many times.
Ty exhaled a rush of air, and Shey swore it sounded like Ty was sliding down the wall to sit against it as close as he could get to Shey. “Yeah. Yeah, we will. Because we need our strength.” Relief filled Ty’s words, and he sounded steadier and stronger.
Fuck that Ruben and his blond minion, Yasmine.
Fuck all these bastards.
They were getting the fuck out of there.
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.