Page 16 of Faith and Fury

“Alright,” Caleb says sternly as Micah pours the tea. We’re gathered around the dining table, all eyes glued to Faith. “Apart from Fang, do you know roughly how many others were taken?”

“We counted twenty-eight rescues,” I tell her, “if that helps.”

Faith scrawls something in her notepad.

LEAVES 12. INCLUDING FANG.

“Christ,” I mutter. “They had forty rogues down there?”

She gives me something bordering on a death glare. I should be terrified, but honestly, seeing her like this—draped in one of Caleb’s shirts and not much else—gets my heart racing in an entirely different way.

Caleb asks her a few more questions, and we all carefully read her answers. How many ringleaders did you see in the arena? SIX. Would you be able to describe them to a sketch artist? MAYBE. Did they always keep you in the same arena? YES. There was nowhere else? COURTYARD. ONCE A MONTH.

The ringleaders knew their stuff—keeping forty rogues underground without fresh air and sunlight makes for all sorts of health problems. They needed their prisoners in good fighting shape.

Then Caleb asks, “How long were you down there? Do you know?”

Faith doesn’t hesitate. 3 YEARS.

My stomach drops. Three fucking years? The other omegas we spoke to said they’d been locked up a few months, maybe a year.

Micah swallows. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Faith chuffs. She grabs the pen.

FANG’S HAD 4.

I don’t give a damn what Fang’s had, I almost snap. What matters right now is you.

Like he can sense my inner alpha getting riled up, Caleb raises his hand, silencing me. “I promise you,” he rumbles, “we’re going to do everything in our power to get Fang out. We just need you to be patient.”

A dark look crosses Faith’s features. I have to bite back my instincts, which are telling me to take her into my arms and scent her until she calms down.

“I’m glad you told us,” Caleb goes on. “And I know it’s a lot to ask, but from now on, there’s something else I need you to do.”

Faith is quiet. Watching.

Caleb smiles. “Trust us.”

***

I’m worried I won’t be able to get to sleep that night, knowing there’s a rogue omega tossing and turning in the room next door.

But the second my head hits the pillow, I’m out like a goddamn light.

Micah’s alarm goes off first. He tries to slip out of bed without disturbing us, tiptoeing to the bathroom.

I’m up the second the shower starts running.

My sleepy muscles groan in protest—doubly so when I get on the floor for my morning push-ups—but as soon as my blood starts pumping, I feel a little more ready to face the day.

“Going to check on Faith?”

I turn. Caleb is sitting up in bed, his hair tussled with sleep.

I clear my throat. “That’s the idea.”

“She might still be sleeping.”

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