Page 63 of Faith and Fury

He’s drawn his weapon.

“Freeze!” He roars. “Hands in the air!”

Delia snaps her head to me, but I’m already moving. “Call HQ!” I shout over my shoulder. “Tell them to hurry.”

I need to find where Maverick went down—I can track him and Faith from there. The line keeps crunching out, like he’s stuffed his phone into his pocket, but I can still hear that heavy breathing.

It’s a chase, alright.

Faith can hold her own, I remind myself as I sprint to catch up to them, but it doesn’t stop my heart from beating up my throat. Tough or not, she’s still a civilian.

Not to mention number one on the ringleaders’ capture list.

Maverick’s not going to be able to protect her—not if he’s busy making an arrest. God knows how many others are down there. What they’ll do to Faith if they get their hands on her.

Or what I’ll do to them if they try.

My inner alpha seethes, my pheromones so toxic I swear they could poison the entire block.

There it is—another manhole, pried off the side of the road. Maverick must’ve forced his way in.

“Out of the way!” I shout, shouldering past the bystanders crowding around. “Move!”

BANG!

The force of that sound—blasting through the phone, echoing up from the tunnels— stops me in my tracks. Gunshot. Had to be.

“Maverick,” I say into the phone. “Report. Report!”

The line clatters.

And goes dead.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Faith

“I said stay where you are!”

He could’ve barked the words for all my omega cared. She was on the hunt—that stench of bleach and nicotine leading me exactly where I needed to go.

My ankle howls with every dragging step as I force my way deeper into the tunnels. If I stop, I don’t know if I’ll be able to start again. The pain. The panic. The walls tightening around me like a black, clammy fist.

So I don’t stop.

Wherever that scent leads, Fang can’t be far behind.

Limping furiously, I round a bend in the tunnel system, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. Caleb’s voice fades further and further away.

“Woah!”

I collide headfirst with a familiar chest. Maverick grabs my arms, steadying me.

“Thank fuck,” he exhales. I struggle against him, trying to break free. Can’t stop. Can’t stop.

“It’s alright,” he says, holding tighter. “Hey, it’s just me!”

I know. That’s the whole problem.

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