Adrian groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh gods, this is a terrible idea.”
CHAPTER 11
Shey Thrudesh-Vo
“I’m going stir-crazy in here, Ty,” Shey grumbled as he paced his cell. He had no idea how much time had passed. At least a couple of weeks. Maybe less. Maybe more. Everything bled together in an endless monotony that was broken only by random interrogation sessions.
He was getting better at surviving Scarella’s sessions without shattering into a million pieces. He wasn’t sure if he was more frightened by the fact that he could feel himself growing numb to it all or that talking to Ty afterward was the fastest way to pull his fractured mind back together.
His prison mate was taken with the same frequency, but where Shey demanded that Ty talk to him, the other man asked only for silence. Hours would pass and all Shey could hear was Ty’s ragged breathing and the occasional choked sob. When he felt better, his first words would always be about food.
But today had been quiet. Guards had brought food twice, so Shey figured there was about a fifty-fifty chance they’d get food again before he was tired enough to sleep.
“What do you want me to do about it? Shall I just pop over to your cell and put on a bit of a play for you?” Ty snarked.
“Could you?”
A ragged laugh echoed through the cellblock, bringing a hint of a smile to Shey’s lips. He’d gotten glimpses of Ty a few times now as they’d moved Shey to and from his cell for interrogations. Ty wasn’t at all what he had expected. There was something about his tone and words that conjured up an image of a crotchety old man with thinning white hair on his head and bushy gray whiskers on his chin, half covering a face of wrinkles.
But Ty was a wiry, thin young man who looked to be in his early twenties with messy auburn hair that hung down his back. His eyes were enormous, glittering emeralds that dominated his lean face. His clothes hung on his slender frame, but not so much that it appeared as if he’d lost a massive amount of weight while imprisoned. There was a dusky undertone to his skin as if he were normally darker complexioned, but the endless days inside had stolen away his color, leaving him pallid and sickly.
They’d talked endlessly, and yet Shey couldn’t say he knew all that much about Ty. The man was adamant about good coffee, fresh bread, and clean blankets that had been aired in the warm spring sun. He’d traveled throughout the world, but Shey couldn’t pin down where he originally might be from. His accent was almost nonexistent and could fluctuate based purely on the place he was talking about at the time, as if the old memories were also calling up the region’s dialect.
Not that Shey had volunteered any actual information about himself, and Ty hadn’t asked.
“Tell me again how it’s going to work,” Ty ordered.
Shey snorted at the command, but he did as Ty wished. “We’ll go after having a meal.”
“Because we don’t know what waits for us outside this building and we’ll need our strength,” Ty chimed in. There was a murmur of deep happiness in his words. The promise of escape was keeping them both clinging to hope.
“Yes, we must eat and drink as much as we can. You’ll also start a scuffle with the guards, pushing some of them toward my cell.”
“Where you’ll lift a key card off an unsuspecting moron.”
“Exactly. When it’s time, I’ll unlock my cell, yours, and the door. We turn right.”
“Ten paces and then a left. You’ll fight a guard or two. Steal their weapons.”
“You’ll hide behind me,” Shey teased.
“Hey! Not all of us are built for fighting. My job is to serve as a lookout.”
“And a human shield.”
“Jerk!” Ty squawked, but Shey could hear no genuine anger in his voice.
He walked over to the wall that separated his cell from Ty’s and put his hand on the cold stones painted with thick white paint. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
It was the least he could do. He might not know the truth behind Ty, but he trusted the man to some small degree. Ty had kept him sane these many days, kept him from losing all hope and doing something incredibly stupid.
“What about—” Ty’s voice cut off, and Shey straightened from where he was leaning on the wall. He heard it too. Footsteps echoing in the outer hallway. People were approaching.
Muscles tightened across Shey’s chest, and he retreated from the wall, moving toward the center of his cell. A few more steps and the door to their cellblock buzzed before being jerked open. He strained to pick out the footsteps. There were the usual rubber-soled boots of the guards and the sharp click of Scarella’s heels. Just as Shey was moving for his bunk to grab a bit of stuffing for his ears, he heard another set of shoes. Hard-soled.
And an unknown man’s voice.
“Huh. You’re still here.” His voice was deep and rough, as if he’d spent a lifetime drinking and smoking. Since Shey couldn’t see this newcomer, he could only figure the crowd had stopped in front of Ty’s bars.
