Page 42 of Faith and Fury

When no-one responds, Faith huffs. CAN FERALS SPEAK?

The tension in the bullpen only thickens. Even Jaxon and I exchange nervous glances.

She rolls her eyes, hatching something out. CAN FERALS SPEAK? WRITE??

A fair argument. Most of the feral rogues our squad has dealt with can barely string a sentence together. It wasn’t until we found out Faith was non-verbal—then found out about Fang—that we understood.

But the squad hasn’t spoken with her the way Pack Wilder has. They don’t know how intelligent she is, or how determined.

Maverick speaks up, “Feral or not—”

Faith angrily writes, NOT.

“—your alphas are asking us to place a hell of a lot of trust in you.” He gestures around the room. “Everyone here has had to work damn hard for a place on the squad. Correct me if I’m wrong, boss,” he eyes me meaningfully, “but isn’t loyalty a basic prerequisite?”

A murmur of agreement rolls over the bullpen. Jaxon glares at me expectantly, waiting for me to break it up, but I hang back. I owe it to my squad to hear them out.

Jaxon demands, “How is this any different to Maverick tapping his snitches for information? Faith’s an asset. Not a recruit.”

“I don’t drag my snitches around the streets of New Caniss by a leash,” Maverick laughs. “Isn’t that the plan?”

Faith bristles, and I sternly cut in, “No-one said anything about a leash. Maverick.” My gaze hardens. “Make your case, but if you objectify Faith again, I’m benching you.”

Maverick holds his hands up in surrender.

“We all want to be on board,” Sirena puts in, “but it’s a lot to ask—not just of the squad, but of Faith. If the ringleaders want her back this badly, who knows what measures they’ll take?” She examines Faith, not unkindly. “You’ve been through so much already. I think we’d all feel better if we knew you were safe.”

“And let us do our jobs,” one of her assistants, Zed, mutters.

Something in Faith’s aura turns frosty. She uncaps her marker, writing brusquely.

I CAN HANDLE MYSELF.

Maverick says, “And what about us? If you lose control, can we handle you?”

Her eyes flash. LET’S FIND OUT.

The challenge is as instant as it is genuine. Faith has pinpointed the loudest voice of her opposition and picked apart his strategy: someone who likes to play games. He’s been sizing her up since the moment she walked through the door.

Not realizing she was doing the exact same thing.

“You want a fight?” he asks, grinning. “I’m game.”

The whole squad is getting restless now, fogging up the room in noxious alpha pheromones.

Jaxon pushes himself in front of Faith. “You touch her, and I’ll break you,” he snarls.

The alpha inside of me—the one who remembers fucking Faith through her heat, talking her down, bathing her, getting lost in her scent—roars with agreement.

And yet, I find myself cuffing Jaxon’s shoulder, holding him back.

He snaps, “Caleb—there’s no way you’re on board with this. It’s crazy!”

No, I sigh internally, it’s not.

The squad doesn’t trust Faith. Either that, or they don’t want to see her get hurt—not after all the work it took to save her.

Which is why I know she wouldn’t be picking a fight against an alpha like Maverick without damn good reason.

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