Page 112 of Faith and Fury

Of course they do, I want to snap. Which is exactly why they don’t need me, screwing things up.

JAX AND MICAH, I type, tentatively, WANT TO COURT ME. CALEB WON’T LET THEM.

Maverick’s eyebrows go up. “No shit?”

I’M NOT GOOD FOR THEM. HE KNOWS THAT.

His bristles, anger rolling out of his scent. “He say that to you?”

NOT TO ME.

“But you heard it.” He growls. “Such bullshit. They’d be lucky to have you—anyone would.” Something in his own words makes him stop, considering. “Are you sure this isn’t ’cause of your mate? Maybe Caleb doesn’t want another alpha in the picture.”

DON’T THINK SO.

Maverick groans, running a hand through his dark red hair. “Fucking packs, man. Just when you think some of them might actually have their shit together …”

I quirk a brow. WHAT ABOUT YOURS?

“Well, I live alone, if you hadn’t noticed. Inherited the place from Pack Gris.” His lip twists. “My parents’ pack.”

I can’t help it—my omega’s interest is peaked. YOU HATED THEM.

He scoffs. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Only reason I took the damn place was to watch it crumble. Make sure no-one tries to make it nice for another shitty pack.”

As his words sink in, it suddenly occurs to me how little I know about Maverick. I decide to ask, WHAT MADE YOUR PACK SHITTY?

Only now does he pause, like he’s not sure how much to share. He answers, slowly, “The same thing that makes most shitty packs shitty. They worship their alphas, and beat down their omegas. Make ’em small and quiet enough that all they can do is serve.”

My gut twinges in recognition.

SISTER OR MOTHER, I ask.

“Sisters. Two of them.”

I consider what else I could say, if it’s worth me telling him I understand, when he goes on.

“I got them out of there as soon as I could—set them up with a nursing program in Voss Plains.” He shrugs. “Only place that’ll take omega candidates. Meant to make them more independent, give them a shot in life.”

SOUNDS NICE.

He just shrugs again.

The waiter comes back with our food. In an instant, Maverick is back to his grinning, obnoxious self.

“Anyway. Fuck packs, man. You’re better off living your own life if all they’re gonna do is make you miserable.”

I smirk. YOU SOUND LIKE MY MATE.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

We eat in relative silence, giving me a chance to reflect. The failed mission. The gun range. Everything Maverick has shared with me about Pack Wilder, and his own childhood pack.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing beats a wunderbeef after a shoot-up.”

I chuff, wiping my greasy fingers.

YEAH. I smile. NOT BAD.

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