Page 105 of Faith and Fury

“I told you Sirena wanted the extra cover on Princeton. She had a gut feeling you’d see some action.” Caleb takes a breath. “And she was right.”

Of course she was right. Sirena’s intel is always right. I know that, and yet somehow I didn’t care. It wasn’t about her. It was about my inner alpha, who—in my twisted animal brain—wanted to do whatever it took to prove myself to Faith.

To bring her back to me.

I growl at the NCPD officers to put their weapons away. This poor homeless rogue—an omega, now I’m getting a closer look—has been through enough.

“Take him to RDF’s headquarters,” I order. “If he’s been in the tunnels, I want to know what he’s seen.”

Thankfully neither of them seem to detect the waver in my voice. They lower the rogue into the backseat.

It’s only as they drive away that I’m forced to grasp the enormity of what I’ve done. Disobeying my captain’s orders. Getting an officer hurt, or worse. Not to mention squandering what was our best—maybe only—shot to follow the guards back to their hide-out.

“Jaxon,” Caleb’s voice only just reaches me through the radio. “Head back to HQ. I’ll meet you there.”

It’s all I can do to croak back, “Understood.”

I’d like to say the only thing on my mind as I stumble back to my bike is the officer on Princeton. Praying to every god that she’ll be okay.

But I can’t stop imagining how I’ll break the news to Faith.

If there are any words powerful enough to make her forgive me.

Chapter Forty-Six

Faith

I wake up surrounded by cinnamon-scented sheets.

I turn my face down, breathing it in. My inner omega is almost placated enough, dreamy and warm, to stop me from asking what I’m doing here.

Then my eyes snap open.

Daylight squeezes past the chipped blinds, casting everything in a muted glow. I sit up, examining the space. A towel hanging over the doorknob. Shirts on the floor. Besides that, it’s surprisingly sparse—not much more than the king bed and a wobbly chest of drawers.

Does Maverick really live like this?

Just like that, it all floods back. Safe house. The mission. Running away from Pack Wilder.

It would kill you.

My feet hit the floorboards with an agonizing twinge. I’m barely aware of myself falling until I’m on my hands and knees.

The bedroom door swings open. Maverick barges in, his naked chest heaving.

“Faith—” then he sees me, on the floor. “Oh. Morning.”

I try to hoist myself up. My stupid ankle is killing me—I must’ve shot past the usual time I take my meds.

“Easy, kitten.” He grabs my waist, perching me on the edge of the bed.

I’m fine, I sign angrily.

“Yeah, yeah, no touching.” He sighs dramatically—totally misreading me. “I’ll grab your crutches.”

He moves to leave, and I force myself to limp after him—he still hasn’t told me about the mission—when he turns. A slow smile spreads across his lips.

“You know, if you wanted to be carried, all you had to do was say.” At my glare, he cocks his head. “Was that insensitive? Say?”

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