Page 72 of Son of a Witch

Regardless of the outcome, I had to try. I had to get Tor back. Even if he stayed in his wheelchair for the rest of his life, I didn’t want to lose the man I loved. Walking or sitting, he was the same to me, and I wasn’t about to give up on him.

Getting a little gooey at my sweet men, I came back to their sides, my heart fluttered at the love and respect they showed Tor by contributing to this.

“Thank you for helping.” I clasped their spare hands and squeezed.

“We want him back too.” Knoxe brushed sweaty hair from my face.

I knew they did. The team was incomplete without Tor and my wolf.

Fuck. Raze. My heart clenched with the agony and heartache of missing him.

I was fortunate Luna had agreed to rescue him and get him settled with some shifters in the Bathurst Guild region where he would be welcome. Part of a family. Then maybe he wouldn’t be lonely and miss me as much.

Trying to hide my tears, I hid the toy weapons and adult costumes in my locker.

“Have you spent some time with your dad?” Not Knoxe too.

Searching for escaped inmates, caring for Tor, and trying to make time for Knoxe and Pascal consumed all my spare time lately. We barely had a moment to breathe. All engines felt depleted of fuel. I used up all available energy for daily life and for my men. Even after a couple of weeks of Loco joining the team, I didn’t have it in me to deal with my father just yet.

“Not yet.” I slammed my locker to tell him to end that conversation.

“He’s your father, Sunset,” Knoxe gently reminded.

Knoxe’s father passed away three months earlier and the guilt of it broke him. He didn’t want me going through the same thing.

“You’ll regret it if he’s killed in the line of duty.”

Yeah, I would. “I’ll have a word when I get time.”

CHAPTER25

Astra

Oh,God, this was happening. No turning back now. Nerves surged, pitching my stomach, and I was about to throw up. My stomach groaned from skipping lunch. I felt a bit faint from low blood sugar. Had to prepare for my date with Tor. Though, now it arrived, I felt queasy and anxious, and clamped a hand over my mouth to hold it back.

Sweat pooled in my palm as I clasped Tor’s hand, walking by his side as he navigated his wheelchair one-handed.

Before his accident, Tor played out comic book scenes several times in training, lightening the serious mood, and easing the pain of Knoxe running us through drills fifty times until we collapsed, spent. Pascal and I played along for fun, pissing off Knoxe and Raze, who shook their heads and waited on the sidelines, refusing to play our“geeky”games. Sore losers.

Prison life, the Guardians, and hunting supernaturals were no easy job. Many didn’t make it back alive. Many were injured in the line of duty. A little fun to lift our spirits went a long way in getting us through the brutal exercises Knoxe put us through to condition our bodies to absolute perfection and strength.

Worried Tor would hate this, I worked my lip between my teeth, and wiped my opposite, free palm on my uniform.

“Everything okay, Supergal?” Shit. He sensed my edginess.

This was meant to be a surprise. A date to cheer him up. Yet I worried how it would go down. If he would hate being reminded of his incapacity. Every step heightened my anxiety, pushing me to confess everything and relieve the twitchiness in my belly.

Instead, I replied, “Fine, Superguy,” with a swipe of my thumb over the top of his hand. I called him that more and more often to remind him of how special he was to me. To the team.

He shrugged off the nickname with a roll of his shoulders. “Not feeling so super.”

Crap. Abort. Mission abort.

He wasn’t feeling this, and the plan would only upset him.

He rolled his shoulders as if they were stiff and let go of my hand to rub his right one. “Physio put me through hell today. My shoulders lost twenty percent strength.”

Oh, phew. I misunderstood him.

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