Page 65 of Hex and the Kitty

FIFTY

Warrick had barely reached the station when the radio crackled with David’s voice, tension elevating his normally calm tone.

“Mayday! Engine Two experiencing brake failure! Can’t slow down approaching Pine Ridge intersection!”

Ice flooded Warrick’s veins. He grabbed keys to the chase vehicle, already moving. “Copy that. Dispatching backup. Try to downshift to reduce speed.”

“Already tried! Something’s wrong with the transmission too!” The strain in David’s voice cut through the static. “Blasting horn to clear traffic!”

Warrick barked orders as he sprinted across the garage. “Jackson, notify Sheriff Reed—sabotage confirmed. Martinez, prepare the heavy rescue in case of crash!”

The chase vehicle’s engine roared to life as he peeled out of the station, sirens wailing. His tiger senses heightened with adrenaline, sharpening his vision and reflexes as he navigated toward Pine Ridge—one of the busiest intersections in town during lunch hour.

He spotted Engine Two within minutes, the massive red vehicle careening down the hill, horn blaring continuously. David fought the wheel, attempting to maintain control while warning cross-traffic to scatter.

Warrick accelerated, pulling alongside. “Use the grassy median!” he shouted through his open window.

David nodded grimly, wrestling the wheel toward the center strip separating opposing lanes. The engine lurched, tires squealing as it left the asphalt. Grass and dirt flew in its wake as it plowed forward, gradually losing momentum but still dangerously fast.

Up ahead, decorative boulders lined the median—installed precisely to prevent vehicles from using it as a shortcut. At their current speed, hitting those rocks would be catastrophic.

“Brake again, hard as you can!” Warrick shouted, scanning for alternative options.

Suddenly, a familiar van appeared, cutting across traffic lanes to position itself partway up the median. Molly’s bakery van.

His heart stuttered. What was she planning?

She leaped from the vehicle, hands raised toward the oncoming engine. Blue-white energy crackled from her fingertips, shooting forward in concentrated bursts. Frost spread across the ground before the speeding vehicle, creating a slick surface that glittered in the midday sun. Simultaneously, a shimmering shield of magical ice encased the engine’s undercarriage.

The combination worked with startling effectiveness. The ice path increased the ground’s slipperiness, allowing the engine to slide while the magical cold rapidly cooled the overheated components. The massive vehicle slowed dramatically, finally grinding to a halt mere yards from the decorative boulders.

Warrick skidded to a stop, racing toward David. “You okay?”

David nodded shakily, knuckles white where they gripped the wheel. “Thanks to your witch.” He gestured toward Molly, who stood with hands braced on her knees, catching her breath. “That was some quick thinking.”

The tiger in Warrick roared with protective instinct, urging him to rush to her side. Instead, the fire chief in him ensured David and his crew were truly unharmed first.

Firefighters gathered around the disabled engine, marveling at the frost still clinging to its wheels and undercarriage. Several approached Molly, offering thanks and expressing amazement at her magical intervention.

“That was incredibly brave,” Warrick said when he finally reached her side. His voice emerged tighter than intended, revealing the fear he fought to contain. “And reckless. You could have been hurt.”

Her green eyes met his, unapologetic. “You’d have done the same for any of my friends.”

“Not the point.” He wanted desperately to pull her close, but maintained professional distance, mindful of his crew’s presence. Instead, he settled for clasping her hand briefly. “Thank you. You saved lives today.”

The smile that bloomed across her face eased something tight in his chest. Behind her, several firefighters exchanged impressed glances, their respect for her evident.

“Chief,” Martinez called, kneeling beside the engine. “You need to see this.”

Warrick approached, crouching to examine where Martinez pointed. The brake lines had been cleanly cut, similar to previous incidents. But attached to the transmission sat something new—a small object pulsing with faint energy.

“Some kind of magical dampener,” Martinez said, frowning. “Never seen anything like it.”

Warrick studied the device, rage building in his chest. “This wasn’t just sabotage. It was attempted murder.”

He straightened, scanning the curious onlookers who had gathered at the scene. No sign of Gus, but the tiger shifter’s signature hung in the air—unmistakable to Warrick’s heightened senses.

Reed arrived minutes later, deputies fanning out to secure the area. “We’ll need to impound the engine,” he said grimly. “Full forensic and magical analysis.”

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