Prison Healer Series Novels & Stories

Behind them stood someone I recognized even though I had only seen him briefly. Archon Shade. The man who had run the Colorado facility. The sadist who had trapped us with explosive collars. The one who had escaped and disappeared. He smiled when he saw me. "Mary Hart. The troublesome Healer Alpha. I was hoping you would come down here. In fact, I was counting on it." "You knew I would come for the prisoners," I realized, feeling cold dread wash over me. "This is another trap."

He made his way back down through ops before taking another set of stairs down to the basement where they kept prisoners and held interrogations. Rose smiled at him when he came down, "who are you here for, boss?" "Whoever Ray and Air brought in last night," Dean looked past his prison manager to the guards stationed outside the occupied rooms, watching as they all stood a little straighter in his presence. "I figured as much," she gave him a sly smile, "just figured I'd asked," "Always one for formality," Dean smirked, "where is he, then?" "B6," she pointed to the guard in front of the door who gave him a sharp nod.

instructed the guard once more. “Let me!” I bellowed but a hand restrained me. “Just let me talk to that stupid guy,” I said to the guard. “Let him,” a voice whispered behind us. The prison was giving me his signature grin. “Two minutes top and no more.” I nodded. “Give us privacy.” I dragged the stoic body of the man down the steps. I was starting to have doubts about my decision for picking him over the other one. “Hey!” I slapped him hard on the face. “Get a hold of yourself!” I got no reaction in return. “Listen to me, dude. Win this fight and I promise you would never worry for your wife and kid again. I promise no Santa Muertos would ever endanger them. Do you like that?”

Nicole felt the same way. In a nearby room, Sergio had better luck. The bullets hadn't hit any vital organs, but there wasn't a single person who cared about him. Although his condition was serious, he had a chance of survival. He was handcuffed to the bed, and as soon as he woke up, he started asking for Leandro. "My son, where is my son?" The nurse who was with him at that moment gave him a look of disdain. The news had spread that he had shot his own son. She turned away from him and left the room.

My life took a huge turn. I was no longer Victoria the baker. I was Arianna Bocelli, Alejandro Amato’s prisoner. “Let me go.” I dug my feet into the ground as Capello pulled me along, ropes digging into my skin. I’d recovered from my momentary shock and become dangerously stupid as I continued to yell at men who wouldn’t bat an eyelash as they sent me to the world beyond.

Now, here I was. Lying in the bed that always felt too small, in the healer's quarters that weren't even officially mine. The pack had allocated this tiny room to me years ago, not out of kindness but necessity. Every pack needed a healer, even one as untrained as me. The space was barely large enough for the narrow bed and a small table that served as both desk and dining area. The walls were bare stone, perpetually damp no matter how many drying herbs I hung. The fireplace was too small to properly heat the space, and the chimney had a crack that let in rain during storms.

Harvest raised her eyebrows. "I don't know the exact answer to that," Selena replied simply. "How about this... what have you done with him? You know, you can tell me anything, I'll listen to you," Harvest coaxed reassuringly. "Will that answer the question of how close I was to him? Didn't you say his room wasn't accessible to just anyone? But, when I was sick and my sickness worsened while I was in that prison-like room, he took me to his room, not to the medical unit. He had a specialized medical unit but he took me to his room. How do you define that?"

"Is that really you?" "Shh, keep your voice down," I warned softly, pulling a bottle of antiseptic and clean bandages from my bag. I reached my hands through the bars, frantically cleaning a deep, infected gash on his arm. "I'm going to help you. I'm so sorry I couldn't stop this sooner." "You shouldn't have come," a weak voice called out from the back corner. It was the young female healer from my clinic, her hands trembling violently as she clutched a broken wrist. "It's a trap... Soren doesn't just want us dead."

Such a crock of idealistic shit. It took him awhile, what with him being a stubborn bastard, but even he couldn't deny he was getting nowhere. For weeks now, he'd lived and breathed prison life. He'd uncovered drug rings, fight clubs, crooked guards, slutty ones. He knew who was fucking who and who was scamming who. Met the two other shifters interspersed among the incarcerated humans. But, no one had an inkling that a faceless killer stalked them. No one had heard even so much as a whisper about the murders. Frustrated didn't even come close to describing his emotions.

A murder occurred by a fugitive who somehow managed to escape from a ruthless prison that not even a magician prisoner could pass, and this meant that someone had deliberately released the prisoner and targeted Rania. All correctional officers were executed mercilessly, despite being strongly condemned by the ministers. King Alaric didn't listen and called Pitter back to heal Rania, who had been cleaned up, and brought into his room. "Sorry, I'm a healer who can only heal, not revive dead creatures." Said Pitter to his old friend, who looked solid on the outside but emptied on the inside.