Page 54 of Faith and Fury

This time it’s only Caleb who seems reserved. When I turn my gaze back on Maverick, he’s wearing that shark-toothed grin that normally makes me want to punch him. Except, this time, it makes my inner omega preen.

He purrs. “I’m counting on it, kitten.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jaxon

The den is quiet when I get in. Faith’s scent lingers—sweet, but stale.

Micah greets me at the door, his excitement dropping when he realizes I’m alone. “Oh, hey,” he says glumly.

“Hey yourself,” I sigh, unlacing my boots.

“Sorry. Welcome home.” He offers to take my jacket, but I just shake my head, hanging it up myself. “How’re things at HQ?”

“Dull,” I grunt. “I hate sitting on my ass all day.”

Micah frowns, following me into the kitchen. “Aren’t you on case management?”

“Mm.” I open up the fridge, grabbing myself a beer. “What’s left to manage? All the rogues have been placed. I had a couple guys swing by to do the rounds, make sure everything’s in order, but you know what these refuge hosts are like.”

“Fiercely protective? Good at their jobs?”

“Exactly.” I pop the lid and take a deep, long sip. Instantly, my body feels a little cooler, dousing the angry furnace inside. “They don’t need us.”

“Still.” Micah leans against the counter. “It’s important to keep an eye out. Make sure they’re getting the help they need.”

“I know, I know, it’s just …” Just what, Jaxon? I know damn well how important rehab is to these rogues. It’s what the RDF is for—keeping vulnerable alphas and omegas off the street, making sure they never fall back into risky situations.

But Faith is one of those vulnerable rogues. And today she’s been back out on the streets, literally, risking her newfound livelihood.

Somehow Micah must read the conflict on my face, because he smiles, shifting a little closer.

“I’m sure Faith is okay,” he tells me. “Caleb’s with her.”

I grunt. “And Maverick.”

“I hate to state the obvious, Jax, but you did vouch for this. If Faith’s going to be involved, it can’t just be on your terms.”

“I know that. And I’m sure Caleb will do a better job protecting her than I ever could. But it still feels wrong—her, out there, while I’m stuck behind a desk.” I shake my head. “I just want to know she’s safe.”

It’s only when I let myself meet Micah’s look—those shrewd amber eyes—that I realize I’m full of shit. I don’t just want to know she’s safe. I want to know I’m the one keeping her safe. Strong as he is, Caleb won’t even acknowledge himself as her alpha.

She deserves more than that.

With a couple more swigs, I’ve polished off my bottle. Micah gets me another, plus one for himself. We drink in silence for several moments.

Quietly, he asks, “Do you think we’re being naïve?”

I cough. “Please. You sound like Caleb.”

“I’m serious. We’re both so invested in this fantasy of courting Faith—making her an official part of Pack Wilder—but we’ve never stopped to ask her what she wants.”

I grumble, “Fang is what she wants.”

“That’s another thing. Are we just assuming that, after we’ve courted her, her other mate will join Wilder?”

I don’t like where this conversation is going, but I sense he’s been stewing on it all day, so I answer, “I dunno. But that’s all the more reason to prove to her we’d make a good pack.”

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