Scott Tracy Thunderbirds Novels & Stories

“Scott! Scott Kelly!” He choked on his drink at the sound of his birth name being yelled in the air. Shit, who is that? He coughed as he turned around to see Bart Guthrie. He was a swamp lizard from New Orleans who had a house in NOLA and a house around the Glades in Florida. Scott wiped his mouth with his hand as Bart approached him. He had a young girl on each arm. They were both blondes. “Scottie, you elusive sum bitch! I haven’t seen you since we closed that deal on the lake property in Miami,” the sixty-five-year-old said with a big smile.

She asked her relaxing trying to hope that someone is really coming g to help like she had said. “He’s our mate, can’t you already sense it? He’s been looking for us for months now but how are we even going to get all this through when you don’t remember anything” Tracy replied. “I’m believing you remember everything?” Selena/joy asked Tracy who just went silent. She really can’t wait to see Asher again, right it’s bad that she had to wolf out late but what is she suppose to do when they keep suppressing it. She wonder how Scott is doing and that bitch! Tracy suddenly flash back to Raven. T.B.C

He closes his eyes and exhale loudly and mumbles “I am only protective about her, nothing else. She is innocent like a child; I am not a fucking monster who will want to bed a kid.” Scott knows Gordon is a beast but he will never harm a child, thus he kept quiet not wanting to argue any further on this. “I trust you Gordon; I just don’t want you to fall in the trap of some cock tease.” Scott warn him. “You want my help for something or should I leave you now.” “I am ok, go on and be on time for tonight, it’s your big day too.” “ Ok then I am leaving you… for the cuffs link, you are ok right, you do not need them.” Scott questioned him before leaving.

His gaze is soft, and his eyes are kind as they roam my face while his thumbs brush away the tears from my cheeks. “Harley, baby girl, what’s the matter?” His tone is smooth like butter and soft like cotton, washing a sense of comfort over me as he speaks. “It’s nothing, Trigger. Don’t worry about it.” I assure him, desperately hoping he buys into the whole facade I’m trying to convey. "I'm Scotty. Trigger is what the streets call me, but you can call me Scotty, baby girl." It's Scotty, huh? I can see that.”

Eyes glowing a bruised gold. Claws scrape sparks from the bitumen as it screams in two voices—one shrill, one buried in gravel. “Faith, get to the car!” Scott barks. Faith sprints for the 1980’s back to the Future tribute Hilux. The creature pivots midair, tracking motion with the simple intelligence of a hunting thing—smart enough to pick a target, dumb enough to do it in front of him. “Ah!” it hissed. Scott’s boots slide on the wet road as he hauls open the tray and closes his hand around the old aluminium bat. No tricks. No symbols. Just leverage and timing.

Back when I first took a bullet for this man overseas, he had cried just like this, begging me not to lose consciousness. Did Scott love me? Of course he did. We grew up together, and were lasting fixtures in each others' lives. I still remember a thunderstorm that happened when we were little the scared me so badly that I leapt into his arms, and from that moment on, he knew that thunder was what I feared the most. "Aw, what a scaredy cat! Don't worry, I'll protect you!" From then on, he'd always come and keep me company whenever a thunderstorm rolled in, keeping me safe.

I inquired, my voice echoing through the hallway, desperately seeking confirmation. "Yes," he answered after a brief pause, pulling me into an embrace. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect your friend," he whispered, his fingers gently stroking my hair. He signaled the warriors to leave, instructing them to take Tracy to the pack doctor. "How could Tracy be dead?" I questioned, my voice breaking as I pulled away from the embrace and met Ryder's gaze. "Do you think she harmed herself?" He shook his head, his eyes filled with concern. "No, Tracy would never do something like that. She was definitely killed…" I stated, my voice filled with anguish.

Grayson said. Trent still didn't understand. "Are you protecting him too?" Scott yelled, "I don't need his protection! Let's settle this between you and me!" He knew where his powers lay. He had enough skills to get by, and he had enough money. He wasn't afraid of Trent. His family business wasn't located in Maltford, so he didn't have to worry about Trent trying to sabotage him. Grayson treated Scott as if he were invisible. He didn't explain anything and simply looked at Trent. "You have to go through me first."

“A lot of the time we have to pass codes and written messages anyway, so it’s not that big an issue that you can’t talk.” “Are you sure you want to do this?” Tracy asked. “The scouts do the most dangerous jobs in the Warren.” I gave her a quick hug. “I will be careful.” “Scouts aren’t careful,” Tracy said. “You try to be, but then something comes up, and Ronan is dragging you home from some dank dungeon half dead.” She turned to pin Ronan with a look. “And that’s assuming Ronan isn’t the one being brought in on a stretcher.”

By the time his words had settled on the ground, we were all staring at ourselves, looking at who would take the mantle of speech next. “Please understand, Aunt Trudy,” said Scott in that light, honeyed voice of his. He usually kept quiet at meetings, but recently he had begun to show a slightly different side to him. In fact, Scott had changed in some little ways pertaining to his style. He was still mostly the same, but that tortured, brooding look in his eyes had vanished into thin air. He actually looked a little more approachable now. Trudy King regarded her nephew with silence as a companion. On her face, one could see in full detail the extent of her emotions. Conflict. Resolution. Fi