Page 106 of Faith and Fury

The mission, I sign, too angry to care that he won’t understand. What happened?

He rolls his eyes. “That’s it. You’re getting carried.”

Before I can argue, he whips me off my feet, throwing me over his shoulder like a doll. The last time someone grabbed me like this, I was being thrown across the ring—but there’s a low purr in his breath as he walks me through the house. Letting me know I’m safe.

If not extremely pissed off.

He puts me down at the kitchen table. Something is crackling on the stovetop, and something else is definitely burning in the toaster.

“Shit,” he mutters, popping up two pieces of semi-charred bread.

All I can do is watch as he assembles a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon, dropping it in front of me. “Bon appetit,” he says, proudly.

Frustrated as I am, my years in the arena—not to mention growing up in a foster pack—mean I’m not one to turn down a hot meal. I start eating. A few minutes later, he joins me, carrying his own plate.

“I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed,” he confesses. Then, at my disapproving look, adds, “Figured you were used to someone waking you up.”

He’s not wrong, though it pains me to admit.

Maverick shovels a couple forkfuls into his mouth, watching me curiously. “I know you’re trying to ask about the mission,” he says at last.

My blood boils. You knew? So he was just playing stupid to annoy me?

“Truth is, I haven’t heard anything. Figured that’s not what you want to hear, so I didn’t want to say.”

I don’t believe you, I almost sign, but stop myself. Because, annoyingly enough, I do believe him. Maverick doesn’t have a track record of keeping things from me.

Unlike certain other alphas I know.

“Here.” He slides his phone across the table. “You want to rip me a new one, I’m all ears.”

My fingers hover over the keypad. All morning, I’ve wanted to snap at him, but now I actually have the chance … I just feel empty.

“Seriously? Nothing?” His scent dampens with disappointment. “Guess all you really care about is the mission. I don’t blame you. Honestly, I’m also pretty pissed your head alpha hasn’t sent me an update—those are my guys out there, too.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling dry, before typing out a message: CALEB WOULD LET YOU KNOW IF SOMEONE WAS HURT.

Maverick grunts, making it impossible to tell whether or not he’s convinced. “Funny. You didn’t bite my head off that time.”

I frown, confused, before I realize what he means.

Your head alpha.

“Come on,” Maverick groans. “Don’t leave me hanging here. There’s gotta be a reason he brought you out here in the middle of the night. So what was it? You guys get into a fight? Things get bloody?”

I chuff, pushing my plate away.

“Or maybe it’s the opposite.” He scans me up and down, heat in his gaze. “Those Wilder alphas are all over you, kitten.”

I glare at him, though my omega is secretly overjoyed at the words. She wants everyone to know that Jaxon and Micah have been inside of me—at the same time—making me come until I saw stars.

But I meant what I said last night. Pack Wilder doesn’t own me.

And I don’t own them.

We’d all be better off if I just … removed myself from the picture. The Wilder alphas still have each other, and I still have Fang. No-one has to get hurt.

Except you’re already hurt, my omega reminds me. And Micah and Jaxon weren’t exactly pain-free, either, the last time you saw them.

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