Page 34 of Until the Day You're Mine

Ty can almost imagine Cyril rolling his eyes. His friend doesn't bother acknowledging Scott. This little shit game has been going on for about an hour. Ty has zoned out. He doesn't respond on the radio. It’s ten past midnight.

“Cocksuckers,” Scott goes again.

Now that he is clued into what Cyril told him, this attempt at aggravating him almost seems desperate and childish. His curiosity has peaked. Scott waits until they are well away from the base and settled for the night, close enough to the camp they are supposed to observe to start with his schemes.

Scott rattles off a bunch of other epithets. Ty can’t help but admire him for some…redneck-cum-slut-ass-gobblers.

Damn.

This must be the result of that expensive college education.

This goes on all through the night, and now that his attitude has changed, he finds himself wanting to fucking laugh. How has he ever been dumb enough to assign Scott so much power to torment him?

In the hours they’ve spent together, Scott has rolled down from the top spot and Ty realizes that there is no one else that can dampen his day otherwise.

It seems they will not be sleeping until they get back to camp. Ty is prepared. They can’t trust Scott, and this mission has turned into one big babysitting standoff.

Hours later it seems, Scott has grown tired of his own bullshit. He’s gone quiet, but he isn't sleeping either. He is actually doing his job, and for some long hours, they are silent, and laser-focused on the lights in the camp ahead.

When Scott moves forward without coordinating with them, Ty and Cyril don't even have to glance at each other to follow. He is not being careful, and his actions will soon start attracting attention to the three of them. Ty will make sure they are safe. He is ready. He’s been here before – reckless behavior to score higher with missions and advance in the ranks faster. Maybe Scott thinks this will get him quicker into law, or wherever the hell he would rather be.

Who. The. Fuck. Knows.

Frankly, Ty doesn’t care about his motives. What matters to him is they all get back safe.

Cyril is closer to Scott. He moves faster even if he is hulking over them all with his impossibly powerful build. He is quiet too. Scott is so distracted with his own schemes, that he doesn't even hear him approach. Cy drags him back by the ankle, while he is trying to kick himself free like a rattlesnake.

They struggle silently in the dirt until Cy gets him in a headlock and Scott goes under, grunting. Ty waits, vigilantly guarding them, surveying the small camp on the other side, making sure to look for signs their scuffle in the dust hasn’t alerted the men resting there.

They are merely one hundred feet away.

An hour goes by with no change or movement on the other side and Cyril has begun dragging them slowly back. Soon the sun will rise, and they will have to go back to the spot they had marked on their map as suitable to take cover when retreating. Cyril must practically throw him over his shoulder and freaking carry him all the way back. He halts a few miles before they set up camp.

Ty has been following them, he had been watching Cyril struggling to drag Scott, but his friend never gives up. Cyril always comes through for the people he cares about.

When they finally reach the spot, they settle for the day, without much talking. It’s a ravine that offers them enough shelter out of sight. There is a small cave-like structure, no bigger than a crevice really, where they can barely fit and stay out of the sun.

It’s uncomfortable, but it works.

The way they are closely huddled together, Cy has a firm grip on Scott, and as the light creeps on the horizon, they are both focused on his face. He looks like he has given up on living. Humiliated. Broken. His expression is one of defeat as his cheeks are soaked with silent tears, which neither of them had noticed earlier.

Cyril reaches for Scott, but he stiffly shakes him off. It’s not an act of aggression, he’s just not there yet.

At least this is how Ty sees it. He’ll do his best to make it clear, that whatever Scott has imagined Ty would do to him, will never come to be. It dawns on him that perhaps Sebastian is afraid. Maybe he thinks, they’re dragging him someplace hidden to kill him out of sight. Do they really look like murderers to him?

Cyril appears to be thinking the same thing as he raises his hands in placation and scoots away just a bit.

“Relax. We need to stay put for the day, okay? You remember this place, right? You chose it for us. The safe retreat point? It’s on your map.” Cyril hesitantly taps Scott’s vest with his index finger. They’ve seen him tuck the map away after making notes and communicating the return route.

Scott looks at his boots without so much as a twitch in acknowledgment that he’s heard Cyril. That he understands him.

Cyril and Ty let him be for now. They don’t speak to each other, and Scott doesn’t try anything else. An entire day goes by in complete silence while the heat slowly wears them down.

They can see Scott practically deteriorating. He looks sick. Ty wonders if he understands they’re doing this for him. That this is the help he needs, even if it’s coming from the unlikeliest of places.

They watch him the whole time. There is no need for discussions, it is clear to both of them, they can’t return to their camp like this. Scott needs help. He needs to understand he can trust them.

Nightfall comes again, and by that time Scott is pretty much useless. His movements are sluggish. He’s hardly staying upright, his eyes are pinned on the ground, and his breathing has become labored. He looks delirious.

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