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)
The acrid scent of smoke teased his nose as they moved through the hall. Shouting grew louder and more frantic. There were hints of someone trying to issue orders, but Shey couldn’t be sure any of them were being followed.
His stomach churned and bubbled. Which way to go? Straight ahead and to the left led to the interrogation rooms. It was the only direction he’d ever been taken when the guards came for him. That meant their best option was to go right at the next intersection.
“Don’t hesitate. Just go. We’ll figure it out,” Tyche said from behind him.
“Oh, so you read minds now?” Shey mocked as he took the first right.
“I don’t get the impression that reading your mind would mean sitting down with some dense tome.”
“Really?”
“More like a thin pamphlet. Lots of pictures.” It sounded like Ty was fighting laughter as he spoke, and even Shey had to admit that he almost smiled at his teasing.
“Asshole. I’m leaving you here.”
“Now you’re being mean.”
Shey ignored his comment as he reached another closed metal door with a key-card lock. It took less effort to summon his powers now. They were already bubbling near the surface, demanding to be set free. The bolt of lightning jumped from his hand and into the panel. Like before, the electric current continued through the walls, knocking out more lights. The scent of smoke and burnt ozone grew stronger.
A crash of thunder broke from outside the building and shook the floor. All his magic use had summoned up a storm. Shey wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. If it helped to mask their escape, it would be good.
He pulled the door open only to find a security agent standing on the other side. He was missing his face guard and helmet, allowing Shey to see that it was one of the men who delivered food to their cells. His dark brown eyes widened at the sudden sight of Shey. On a gasp, he fumbled with his gun at his side.
Shey grabbed a fistful of his uniform with his left and slammed his right fist into the man’s face several times, then rammed his head into the wall. Staggered and moaning, the man stumbled as soon as Shey released him, not even bothering with his gun. Shey sneered and slammed his foot into the man’s gut, doubling him over and sending him into the wall behind him in a crumpled heap.
Barely conscious and groaning, he didn’t put up a fight when Tyche jumped on him. In the blink of an eye, he’d stripped the man of his gun, ammunition, two knives, a second gun, a wad of cash, and most importantly, his key card.
“You work faster than some jackals I’ve seen,” Shey stated as he accepted the guns and ammunition from Tyche. He tucked away one knife while Tyche kept the smaller one and the cash.
Tyche held up the key card, his brow wrinkled. “I don’t know how much good this will do us. You’ve fried all the electronics.”
“Keep it just in case.”
Tyche nodded and stuffed it into his pocket. Before Ty stood, he gripped a handful of the guard’s hair, tipped his head to the side, and slit his throat. The guard gasped and choked, blood surging out of him. His hand tried to cover the enormous cut, but the blood gushed over his fingers.
Lifting his head, Tyche met Shey’s stare with cold, emotionless eyes. “He can’t be left to do this to someone else.”
Shey had no argument. He didn’t like killing, but after watching Yesuntei die, he couldn’t summon up any sympathy for his captors. Even if this one was only following orders. That man had a choice not to hurt other people, but he went along with it anyway for a paycheck.
Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. The guards of the secret prison were pulling themselves from their nightmares and realized that something was going wrong in the rest of the building. Shey and Tyche ran into more guards as they wove their way through various hallways and peeked into rooms, searching for an exit. They stumbled across other holding cells and released people where they could, sending them off with a hope and a prayer. There weren’t many of them. A couple of dozen, and none of them were in great shape. Many limped and were covered in poorly healed wounds.
However, they all took one look at the blood-soaked Tyche and headed in a different direction, as if they were more afraid of the psychopath acting as Shey’s shadow than the armed guards.
Shey killed guard after guard with the borrowed gun. His brow furrowed as he noticed every shot found the perfect target, whether heart or head. He would have been the first to point out that he wasn’t a brilliant marksman and didn’t have this kind of flawless aim. At a guess, Tyche had something to do with it, but he would not ask now. Escaping was the priority.