Of course, Shey had a feeling that even if Tyche hadn’t been locked in a prison, he would still be a lazy, snarky, grumpy person who would rather sip coffee and read a book than talk to another human being.
A low rumble rose from Tyche’s stomach, and Shey smirked. His stomach was trying to eat itself. They hadn’t enjoyed a single bite of food in a day. He wanted to put more distance between them and the facility, but they were going to need to hunt upsomething to eat soon if they were going to have the strength to keep walking.
“It’s a shame you didn’t get the chance to kill Scarella before we left,” Tyche announced with a whimsical sigh.
Shey snorted, nearly choking on his laugh. “I was sure you were going to say something about food or your favorite restaurant.”
“Well, I wastryingto think of something other than food. Particularly a nice thick steak, cooked medium-rare, and a mound of mashed potatoes. Possibly a side of broccoli covered in hot, melty cheese. Oh! And fresh bread. The thick, crusty stuff that makes a mess when you pull it apart. Still so hot from the oven that steam comes out. Creamy butter?—”
“All right! All right!” Shey pleaded, his stomach growling with Tyche’s. “You’ve made your point. Go back to the killing.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t have been heartbroken if you’d killed all the guards in the facility, but really, the top of my list was Scarella,” Tyche said, switching topics without blinking an eye.
“It would have been nice, but I suspect that if she were in the prison at the time, she would have locked herself in the command center, surrounded by guards. It would have been suicide to charge in there.”
Tyche picked up a thin stick and seemed to inspect it before snapping it in half and tossing the two pieces to the ground. “I know, but a guy can dream. She needs to get her comeuppance after all this. She had to have been the one to push Teitei over the edge. I know it.”
Yeah, seeing his torturer dead after what he’d gone through would be satisfying, but it would have to wait. They needed to get to safety. To get some real help. He’d made the mistake of bringing too few people with him, thinking that he could be sneaky and escape anyone’s notice. The moment Kaeda and Juro died, Shey should have headed straight for the border and leftDamardor far behind. But he hadn’t wanted to admit failure. Hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d planned this poorly and had been overwhelmed from the very start.
“Don’t worry. She’s going to get hers. They all will. We’re making a strategic retreat and regrouping.”
Tyche snickered. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?” He’d just gotten that mocking comment out when he stepped on a pile of wet leaves that slid out from under his foot. His arms pinwheeled in the air as he tried to stay upright. Shey smiled and caught his arm, keeping him on his feet.
“If I have to,” he murmured.
“Ugh. Fine. I?—”
“Shh!” His fingers tightened on Tyche’s arm, digging into soft flesh.
To his credit, Tyche froze, his mouth snapping shut. He waited while Shey strained to hear what had triggered his internal warning system. They had been walking along chatting, the warm summer breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and the birds singing.
But the birds had stopped singing. Someone else had entered the forest.
A shout went up just as the thought crossed his mind. Ten armed men with guns drawn broke from behind the trees a few hundred yards away, moving to circle them while shouting for them to lie on the ground. The facility had caught up with them.
Except there was no way in hell Shey was going back to that place.
The guns he’d taken off the dead guards as they broke out had long since run out of ammunition as they escaped the facility, but he still had some knives and magic. He would have to make do with that.
“Ty, you’re gonna have to fight,” Shey announced as he shifted to put his body between Tyche and the bulk of the guards sent to retrieve them.
“You’ve lost your mind. You know that, right? How have I given you any kind of impression that I know how to fight?”
“Something,” Shey snarled. He palmed a long blade and braced for the attack. “Do something.”
“Die? I’m pretty sure that I have a good chance of dying.”
Shey wanted to tell Tyche that he wasn’t allowed to die. He was stuck with Shey, and he wasn’t allowed to escape that way. Yet the words never left his tongue. One of the guards stepped forward to close the gap and tighten the surrounding trap, but his foot got caught on a raised tree root. He tumbled over with a shout, plowing straight into the guy on his right. As the second guard fell, his finger squeezed the trigger and a shot went wild, hitting a third guard in the center of the chest, killing him.
“There,” Tyche snapped. “I did something. How was that?”
Fuck.
It hadn’t been pretty, and the entire incident was comical, but it also meant two guards were still tangled up and a third was dead. Shey still didn’t understand Tyche’s magic, but he was beginning to appreciate its odd elegance.
“Yeah. Yeah, keep doing that.”
With several of the guards distracted, Shey tried to go for the dead man’s gun, but the guards closed ranks too fast, forcing him to retreat and attack another. He punched and slashed, dodging blows as best he could. They didn’t want to shoot him or Tyche. Otherwise, they would have been dead already. The guards must have had orders to bring them to the facility alive, which was working to Shey’s advantage.
