Page 16 of Son of a Witch

“It’s been taken.” My fists clenched tighter and they started to ache. “An escaped inmate arrived before me. I have to track him down.”

Blaze rubbed his forehead, thinking. “What would he want with it?”

“To fuck my team and me over,” I growled.

“Why?” Blaze grilled.

“Revenge. Prison politics. Small dick syndrome.” The list went on. They all chuckled at that. “Knoxe, my Alpha… sorry, leader … thinks someone in the Guardians has been helping the vampires we’re catching.” I didn’t know how much information to give these members of the Shadows, but maybe they’d be willing to exchange intel. “I’d put money on it being our enemies. I need proof though to take them down.”

Blaze glanced at each of his teammates and then turned to me. “We’ll help you find them.”

As a tracker, I didn’t need their help. But the Guild’s resources could speed up the process and reunite me with my mate sooner rather than later. Help I couldn’t afford to turn down.

Warmth soaked into my chest for the first time in three days. Hope to be reunited with my mate and pack. Freedom called and I could taste it on my tongue. Sweet, gratifying freedom. Desert sand scraping my skin. Trees rustling in the breeze and the wind whispering my name. The scent of upcoming rain carried on the wind. Earth crackling beneath my feet.

“All right.” I scraped the back of my neck. “What do you want me to do then?”

CHAPTER6

Tor

Broken.Incomplete paraplegia. Damage to L1 to L3 lumbar vertebrae. Unable to be repaired by the bone serum due to the severity of the break. The doctor’s words sat heavy in my skull, like boulders wanting to tumble down the mountain, crushing everything in its path just so I could feel something, anything besides dead inside. Lost. Hollow. Aching in my heart.

The wheelchair bumped over smashed bits of stone and Supergal grunted, trying her best to negotiate it. Someone needed to go through this room with a damn bobcat to clean the shit away. Heck, I’d drive it if I could stand and press the pedals.

Stand being the operative word. My hands rubbed my numb legs. I couldn’t feel a damn thing. God had been merciful to me once, healing my back injury after I crashed my motorcycle. But I’d pissed him off again. Done one too many things against his commandments, probably. Thou shalt not steal. Though shall not murder another. Heavenly wrath struck me once more, bringing me back to where I’d been before. Limp. Restricted. Helpless.

I fucking hated feeling this way.

Supergal stopped the chair, leaning over me, her breasts rubbing the back of my head as her hands linked around my neck. “Wanna start here? Away from that psycho?”

“That psycho is your father,” I reminded her. Good, bad, or damn ugly like his violence, I’d take it, if I could have my dad back. “You’re lucky to have one.” My voice came out bitter and harsher than I intended. Couldn’t help it. Despite trying to joke, I wasn’t feeling my smooth, fun self lately.

“Tor, I didn’t mean that.” Her arms tightened around me, one palm stroking the front of my chest. Not that I could feel much. A dull sensation of pressure.

The doctors still tested me daily to determine what function would return to my body. Certainly, not my legs, by the look of it. The uncertainty of it all frustrated and depressed me, and I wanted to get out of this room and scream. Shout down the mountain full of boulders. This wasn’t fair. Why did I have to go through this all over again? Wasn’t once enough? As a fucking kid no less?

If I had to suffer, I wanted everyone else to as well. Fuck, I was becoming a bitter bastard, but I couldn’t help it. Seeing my team walking around, bruised but on their feet killed me when I was a sporty, active guy. Confinement to a wheelchair was going to destroy me.

“Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged off her comment, even though it stung. Hell, everything fucking stung, the despair of my new circumstances raw and hitting home like it never had.

Supergal rested her cheek on my head. “We’ll find you a spell to get you back on your feet.”

“Doubt it.” My voice came out a snarl, even though I didn’t intend it to. Bitterness raged deep within my chest. “If the healing serums don’t work, what good would a spell be?”

Irritated, I rolled my shoulders. At least I could still move my arms. Touch her. Wheel my chair. A small win for which to be thankful, and I was desperate to see the positives in nothing but a sea of darkness.

“We’ll try every single one until we find something.”

I smiled, appreciative that my girl wouldn’t give up on me. Determination was one of her best qualities. She fought for her lovers, protected them like a fierce momma bear. A week ago, I’d been angry at her for this very reason, but now I couldn’t find a thread of irritation for her when she’d fight for me as she had to protect Raze’s little wolfy secret.

Supergal’s lips brushed the shell of my ear and I closed my eyes, grateful I felt that. My cock twitched but didn’t inflate. I wondered if the big guy would still work. If I could pleasure my woman … if she still wanted me. What would she see in me now? A cripple in a wheelchair, I couldn’t lift her, carry her, couldn’t fuck her like I wanted to.

Fuck Styx for doing this to me. I’d have his head on a spike for ruining my damn life. For fucking up our chances of earning the bounty. Escaped and on the run again, the prick had cheated us of our rightful prize. Killed a bunch of guards and prisoners and released a whole host of dangerous criminals. For what?

Supergirl had mentioned her meeting with one of the Sorcerers, who told her the vampires had used some sort of magical device to weaken the prison’s defenses and siphoned the power from the walls to bust in. They’d be fucking swelling with power. How could we defeat them now?

What would I do? Sit in my chair and wait, on edge, biting my fingernails, for my team to return unharmed. No fucking thanks. I needed to be out there with them, bringing the dirty vamps to justice. I could still be useful. Still use my magick. But I doubted the new warden, the asshole bureaucrat that he looked like, would let me go. In my wheelchair, I’d be a vulnerability and a weakness that he wouldn’t subject the team to. And that thought made me feel even more helpless and useless than I already did.

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