Page 39 of Faith and Fury

I wake up to a smoky, musky scent—like sandalwood that’s just caught fire.

Caleb and Jaxon are home. And something is wrong.

I hurl myself off the couch, my head spinning. My blood pumps so fast I can barely feel the strong, lean arms that catch me.

“Slow down, angel. You’re still a little unsteady.”

Pack Wilder’s head alpha and second come trudging into the living room. Seeing me, Jaxon’s face drops.

“Woah, woah.” He meets me and Micah on the couch. “She okay?”

Micah exhales. “Just a head rush, I think.”

I hurriedly reach for my notepad. WHAT HAPPENED? I thrust the words at Jaxon, then turn them to Caleb.

Caleb eyes Micah warily. “Her heat?”

“It’s been quiet,” Micah says. “I think we’re in the clear.”

Rage spikes through me. I rap my knuckles on the notepad, demanding they look at me. Stop talking as if I’m not here.

“Give us a minute, omega,” Caleb says, more stern than normal. “I need to discuss something with my packmates.”

That’s not good enough. He thinks, because the three of them fucked me through my heat, they suddenly have a say in what happens with my case? Without so much as involving me in the conversation? That wasn’t what we agreed.

“I’m serious,” he growls, probably scenting my fury. “This is private.”

Snarling, I write, PRIVATE. MY. ASS.

I might not be at peak strength right now, coming down from a truly monstrous heat, but if anyone tries to remove me from this room, there will be blood.

Maybe Micah senses this, because he nervously suggests, “Why don’t we all just take a breath?”

I’m breathing just fine. It’s Caleb and Jaxon who are on edge. They can barely look at me—hiding something from me.

Still, Micah’s words must appeal to my inner omega, because I find myself breathing in like he said, forcing myself to keep a clear head. I’m surprised to note the sour tinge in Jaxon’s pheromones. That’s not just anger.

It’s … dread.

Cautiously, I write, TELL ME. Then, at their continued reluctance, add, PLEASE.

Jaxon shoots a pleading look at his head alpha. Caleb stands there, his jaw hard as stone, before sighing.

“It’s the ringleaders,” he bites out. “They’re after Faith.”

I freeze. Next to me, Micah’s breath hitches. “I—are you sure?” he asks.

Caleb nods.

Oh … okay. I guess that makes sense—a lot of bets were being placed that last night in the arena. Probably a lot of bids, too. Someone must’ve banked on me, won me, the moment I secured my victory against K-4.

No wonder the ringleaders are scrambling. I’m escaped merchandise.

My first instinct is horror. What the ringleaders want, they get. I don’t want to be locked underground—not now, not ever again.

Except … Fang is still down there.

Suddenly everything seems so simple. I grab the marker, my heart pounding: THIS IS GOOD.

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