Trapped

{Coming in off rotation and I know I'm cutting it damn fine, the fine hairs on the back of my neck warning of the impending sunrise, the shutter motors trundling to life even as I stride through the glass doors of the Penthouse. Body well-used, aching from the fight, stomach growling a protest as I shrug out of my leather jacket and weapons, scanning the room for Tory, hoping the visit to her mahmen lifted her tired spirits...quickly it dawns on me...fuck! she's not here...flipping open my cell, speed dialling her, the phone wedged between my ear and shoulder while I light up a hand-rolled, listening to the ring tone buzz on and on...and on...ringing out...my heart beginning to hammer with a pulse of panic as the call goes to voicemail...firing off a text... staring at the screen, each sucking drag on the hand-rolled measuring out the minutes as I wait for the reply that isn't coming...Fuck!!

My mind starts to race with the worst fucking case scenarios...she wouldn't fight, the young is too precious, but shit, what if something bad had gone down with the pregnancy?...what if she'd gone on the run again? Fidiot V! You should never have let her go out alone... Fuck V...Yeah... Welcome to the world of the bonded fucking male, Tory. For the price of admission you get an over-protective, stalker hellren with a killer case of paranoia thrown in for good measure...Yippee fucking do…she probably just lost track of time catching up with her mahmen, decided to stay the night, cell ran out of charge...bada bing bada boom...she'll be laughing at you come nightfall, true, telling you she doesn't need a fucking babysitter. Yeah...exhaling loudly... Not. Fucking. Helping. Firing up the four toys, gloved fingers drumming the desk as I wait for them to boot up, punching in the deets for the tracker chip in Tory’s cell, click, click, zoning in on the map...zooming down to street level...aaaaand...bingo...the cell lighting up in her mahmen's garden...exhaling in relief...probably just dropped the fucking thing, spending the day there…except...why wouldn't she call me?

Logging into the telephone database for the civilian population of Caldwell, gloved finger scrolling down the monitor to her family home. Dialling the number...the doggen who answers speaking in a deferential tone <<yes Sire, no Sire, Miss Serhenity was not a guest at his lady's house this evening...yes Sire indeed quite certain. My lady was most perturbed>> {my blood turns to ice water as realisation dawns... something has gone horribly wrong with Tory...that fucking nightmare playing through my head, the black walls closing in around me like a cage. Trapped by the fucking sun...crippled, no choice but to wait and start the desperate cold-calling around the human hospitals and tap into the CPD police radio, hoping for reports of anything, any fucking clue that will lead me to her once that godforsaken fireball in the sky sets. Growling my frustration into the empty black space, diamond eyes wild with fear, fist slamming into the desk, splintering wood} where the fuck are you Tory?!!