Page 83 of Son of a Witch

“We can’t tell a soul, okay? This is just between us. Until we determine who is behind the sabotage.”

He caught her wrist, lowering her arm, linking his fingers with hers, and playing with them. “I understand. I didn’t before. Thank you for explaining it to me.” He tapped music into the side of her hand with his forefinger.

“We’re all agreed then?” I asked the team.

“Yes,” three simultaneous voices said.

“Good. Let’s reconvene tomorrow after the mission.”

CHAPTER28

Tor

Swords clashed together,the clang vibrating down my broken spine and sparking in the dead nerves. Knoxe and Pascal swiped at each other, blocked, parried, and got in some good jabs as they practiced.

Selena and Astra had a three-way match with Loco, going easy on him but still backing him into a corner. Sweat dripped from his forehead and he swiped it away while managing to keep his sword raised. Impressive. Dude had skill. Deadly skill. Rusty as hell, though. Had to hand it to him. Crazy motherfucker gave it his all. He was lucky he had Selena as a trainer and not Knoxe, because he needed a lot of work to get him up to speed though, much like Supergal did when she first arrived here.

Warmth trickled through my bloodstream at the memory of her arrival. Short skirt, tall boots, midriff-baring top, glasses, and burnt amber-streaked hair. Exactly my type. Nerdy with an edge of sexy. My dick twitched at her sexy librarian get-up back then… and now. Thank fuck he worked. Hadn’t tested him out yet. The mood wasn’t there.

Fuck. She was the one good thing in this place. The one thing keeping me together. She stayed here for me. I reminded myself of that every moment I felt self-pity. I had to stay strong for her. Fight for her love. Prove myself worthy of being loved by her. I didn’t want her to regret her decision not to leave because of me.

For my first time back at training, Carmichael didn’t want me exerting myself too much, hence my lingering on the edge of the mats. Selena started us on a warm-up, stretches, then skipping for the team, and stretching Pilates rubber bands for me. Doc’s orders.

Bored out of my brain and left out of the exercise, I leaned on my fist, my elbow on my chair. When was this gonna end? Being here was torture. I raised my gaze to the clock. Twenty more minutes and I was out of here. The warden and Selena forced me to attend to stay abreast of team activities. What was the point? It wasn’t like I could go out on missions.

After this, it was back to Carmichael’s training room for physiotherapy on my legs and exercises to keep up my upper body fitness and make sure my arms and chest muscles didn’t waste away with my pitiful legs.

Selena tilted her head at me the way my mom used to when I was about to get scolded. “Tor, I expect you to take part in training. You’re still a valuable member of this team and can contribute.”

Valuable. Debatable. I was the muscle. The guy who kicked ass and looked hot doing it. Correction—used to be hot in a tight superhero suit. I might not be able to move as freely, but I could bring a gantii to its knees. Have it screaming and writhing on the ground. An underutilized asset that the warden grounded.

Blackened parts of my soul tarnished further at the utter feeling of being useless and helpless. Hiding it from the world, from the woman whose light cast away my darkness, I wheeled around the edges of the training room, trying to keep my arm muscles warm and active.

Selena came to me, grabbing my hand, pressing it between both of hers. My cheeks steamed up at being the center of attention. Heat swept over my entire body. I never got embarrassed. Ever.

“Tor, I know this is difficult.” She squeezed my hand. “It’s difficult for us all.”

I didn’t want to hear her speech. Knoxe and Astra tried the same on me. Words didn’t get me back to where I wanted to be. They didn’t get my head straight. My mental health in check. Every day the warden let this go on, my hope faded.

Frustration licked at my veins, and I wheeled away and smacked my legs for anything. A sign. Movement. Twitches. Nerves firing. Nothing. Fuck. I wanted to go over and beat the shit out of the troll dummy in the corner to let off some steam. And that was what I did.

Halfway there, Knoxe called out, “Tor, get your ass over here,” ceasing training with Pascal. “Don’t think you’re getting out of sparring because you’re on wheels.”

He’d noticed me slapping my legs in the corner and finally taken pity on me. Otherwise, I would have remained invisible. Guess what? I didn’t need his sympathy.

“Tor!” Knoxe’s voice told me he wasn’t going to wait any longer. I was going to spar with him, and that was that. He dragged a couple of mats aside to make space for my wheelchair to fit.

Sighing heavily, I rolled my wheels and lugged myself into the space he cleared in the mats. My heart wasn’t in this. I’d rather be elsewhere. Anywhere but fucking here. Reminded of how my body didn’t work. How I was gonna rot here and die after my team and girl left.

Knoxe handed me a sword and twirled his, showing off that he could strut around the training room like a fit and healthy soldier.

The weight of the metal felt different in my hands. Heavier. Less sturdy. My shaking, weak muscles struggled to wield it. Strength and dexterity continued to fail me. I copied Knoxe, and swirled the sword, dropping it.

“Here.” Knoxe crouched beside me to retrieve it.

“I’ve got it,” I growled, stretching forward but unable to lean far enough to reach. “Fuck.” I leaned my elbow on the chair’s arm and pinched my forehead.

“Tor.” Knoxe collected the lost sword, set it in my lap, then rested a hand on my shoulder. “There’s no shame in accepting help. We’re a team, that’s what we do.”

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