Page 23 of Faith and Fury

Or why my omega enjoys Pack Wilder’s scents at all.

***

Caleb is gone again the next morning. And the morning after that.

The only update he’s willing to give me is that they’ve arranged for some of the rogues to speak to a sketch artist. Once again, he asked if I’d be willing. This time I told him yes.

But since then I’ve heard nothing. No-one but Jaxon, Caleb, and Micah come through the den. No-one lets me leave.

It’s infuriating.

On the third morning, I put on my new jeans and dig around the bags for a shirt. The only one I haven’t tried on is this long-sleeved blouse. Not exactly conducive to fist-fighting.

I’m about to rip it off when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.

Normally, the first thing I’d see is my scar. I got it from before my time in the ring—back when I was a teenager, fighting for scraps in my foster pack. A couple of the older alphas stole some beers and decided to play doctor with a broken glass bottle. The doctor said I was lucky not to lose an eye.

Me? I thought I was luckier when I ran away.

But this time, when I see myself, there’s something … new. Maybe I’m taller. Or stronger.

You look like a person, my omega tells me.

Suddenly there’s a knock at my door, making me jump. Jaxon is waiting on the other side.

“Morning! Hey, nice shirt.” I peer behind him, searching for Caleb, when he says, “Settle something for us, would you?”

From the kitchen, Micah groans. “At least let her eat breakfast first, Jax.”

I frown questioningly.

“Which is better? This one—?” Jaxon gestures dramatically, touching his chin, then making an L shape with his arms. “Or this?” He does the same thing, but uses his opposite arm so the L is backwards.

Is he … trying to tell me ‘good morning’ in sign?

“Me and Micah have been practicing,” he explains. “I reckon the second way’s better, but Micah says it’s the first.”

I hesitate—for once, not because I’m feeling cautious. Something in me just can’t get over the fact that they’ve been thinking about this. Arguing about it.

I grab my notepad, writing, YOU’RE LEFT-HANDED.

Jaxon cocks his head. “How’d you guess?”

I try not to roll my eyes. THE WAY YOU SIGN. YOU’RE BOTH RIGHT – YOURS IS JUST LEFT-HANDED.

It’s like a weight’s been lifted off of Jaxon’s shoulders. He laughs. “Ohhh. Duh.”

Once again, there are only three of us at the table for breakfast that morning. A part of me wants to do what I always do, and demand they takes me to RDF’s headquarters, but for some reason I find myself eating without argument.

Suddenly coming to terms with the fact that so much of what Pack Wilder is doing … they’re doing for my sake.

Chapter Fourteen

Jaxon

Our resident omega is none too happy when Caleb calls me back into HQ. Then again, neither am I.

“Right now?” I hiss to Caleb while Micah talks her down. “I’m finally starting to make some progress here.”

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