Page 97 of Faith and Fury

We’ve been at it for hours, following up on some information Faith wrote out for my packmates yesterday. I promised I’d look into it, dig up any potential leads, but I’m really starting to hope she’s already in bed by the time I walk through that door.

“Tell her it’s good news,” Maverick says, noting my stony expression. “Every spare NCPD unit is gonna be combing the streets at first light, staking out those manholes. No-one comes up or down without us knowing.”

“Assuming their schedule hasn’t changed,” I mutter, “now they’ve lost Axe.”

“Hey, even sewer rats have to come up sometime. Faith says the guards change over at dawn, so we wait for them at dawn.”

Maverick’s aggravating optimism is, well … aggravating. But I could stand to keep an open mind. Besides, half the reason I’m so pissed is because Faith went to my packmates with this information instead of me.

Should’ve listened to her, my inner alpha grumbles. Omega is smart.

“We gonna sit here all night?” Maverick asks. “Or are you gonna invite me up for pack cuddles?”

I roll my eyes, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Get some sleep. Want you out there with the cops tomorrow.”

“You got it, boss.”

He waves at me through the windshield before reversing out. I stand by the sliding glass doors for several moments after he’s gone.

11.39, my phone reads. Late enough that Faith should be fast asleep.

The den is dark when I slip in through the front door. I make my way into the kitchen, finding a note on the fridge in Micah’s handwriting—

Caleb,

Dinner in the fridge.

Jax — don’t touch!

I smile to myself, sticking the plastic-wrapped plate in the microwave—yanking it out right when the timer hits '00:01’. Hunched over the kitchen counter, I eat quickly, quietly, not even bothering to turn on a light.

A rustling noise from Faith’s bedroom makes me start. Her door creaks open, revealing a disheveled, half-clothed Micah.

My chest clenches. I can smell Faith on him from here.

“Caleb,” he whispers. “It’s late.”

I try to go back to eating. “You making a habit of this?” He follows my accusatory look toward Faith’s bedroom, his cheeks heating.

“She sleeps better with us there,” he says.

“Us?”

“Yes, us. Me and Jaxon.”

Well, I guess I shouldn’t fault his tone. I did ask him to spell it out for me.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say, pointing a fork down at my plate. “It’s, uh … been a long day.”

He nods, that characteristic softness finding its way back into his expression. A part of me wants to shout at him to stay angry. Angry is good. It’s harder to get hurt—easier to keep your guard up.

Is that why you told him he wasn’t ready to be courting? A snide voice goes off in my head. Is that why you accused him of being selfish?

“I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” Micah says, cautiously, “but you promised we could talk.”

I did promise that. I’ve been promising that, hoping that by the time he forced my hand, I’d know what to say.

I sigh. “It can’t wait until morning?”

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