“Wait.” Jaxon shakes his head. “What are you saying? You don’t want to be part of our pack?”
The room goes deadly silent. Faith just stares, blankly, those icy eyes answer enough.
It’s as if all the frantic energy fueling my packmates suddenly hits a wall. Jaxon clutches Micah’s arm like he doesn’t trust either of them to stay standing. My inner alpha rumbles at me to go to them, or go to Faith—to do something to make this right.
But, once again, it’s up to Faith to make the first move.
LET ME OUT, she writes. NOW.
“You’re not ready,” I declare. “Especially with that injury.”
“Shit,” Micah whispers, like he’s just realizing something. “Your crutches …”
Faith ignores him. I’M NOT STAYING HERE.
A low, broken growl rips out of Jaxon’s throat. I cross my arms.
“Fine,” I say, the single word like a knife to the gut. “Get your things.”
“Caleb—” Micah groans.
“I’ll take her to a safe house,” I announce. “Give everyone a chance to clear their heads.”
Jaxon is still growling. Micah’s face is drained of colour. Faith watches me for another moment, checking my face for insincerity, before limping out the way she came. I don’t imagine it’ll take her long to pack a bag … assuming she even has a bag.
My packmates’ despair so potent, like toxic fumes, that we might as well be choking in it.
“Where are you taking her?” Jaxon gets out.
I clench my jaw. “Better if you don’t know.”
“The hell it is—”
“Jax.” Micah squeezes his arm. “Don’t.” He swallows thickly. “Faith wanted this.”
I expect Jaxon to bite back, but he must feel how heavily Micah is leaning on him … and I guess he can’t bear to see his packmate hurt any worse than he already is.
Neither can I.
Which is why I grab the plastic bag out of Faith’s hands and make sure she has her crutches before leading her to the front door.
Not daring to look back at my packmates’ broken-hearted faces behind us.
Chapter Forty-Four
Faith
Caleb says nothing the entire drive. I don’t know where he’s taking me, or what he means by ‘safe house’, but I don’t question it.
I can’t stay in Wilder Den another second.
She’ll go feral.
Hurt you.
Hurt herself.
We were all in over our heads. My inner omega was content to be wrapped up in Pack Wilder’s arms, believing—for once—that I might actually be enough. That was all I wanted. All I asked for.