Page 122 of Faith and Fury

Maverick! I look at him, my vision swimming. Fuck, did I hit my head?

He’s unconscious, twisted awkwardly in the driver’s seat. The horn is blaring—he was reaching across, trying to cover me, when we got hit.

Feeling sick, I unbuckle my seatbelt and check his pulse. Steady heartbeat. But he’s bleeding—I can’t tell where from.

Suddenly the passenger side door rips open. Big, meaty hands grab my arms, tearing me out of the car.

No matter how hard I try to scream, no sound comes out.

“Now, now, F-7,” an oily, familiar voice rumbles in my ear. “No need to struggle.”

My mind goes white.

Hamish?

Ringleaders—they don’t leave the tunnels. When the going gets tough, they hunker down and stay under the radar while the guards and bookies do their dirty work. He can’t be here, on a crowded freeway, in broad daylight.

But he is.

I thrust my elbow back, thrashing wildly. He grunts.

“Come on—don’t you want to see your mate again?”

The mere mention of Fang is enough to turn me feral. But by that same token, it’s enough to distract me.

Hamish wraps a cloth around my mouth and nose. I hold my breath instinctively, struggling for as long as I can, as he drags me into the back of the van.

Chemicals flood my senses. Everything becomes fuzzy.

“That’s it, F-7. You look tired … get some rest.”

Fuzzy turns to dark. Dark turns to black.

Until, at last, unconsciousness carries me away.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Jaxon

I pace the bullpen, checking my phone for the hundredth time.

“They’re late.”

Micah sits perfectly upright in my desk chair. “They’ll be here.”

I force myself to take a breath. Of everyone who’s on edge right now, my packmate is probably struggling the most—and with good reason. This is the first time he’s stepped foot in the RDF in over a year.

A lot of ugly memories here. Good ones, too, though maybe not enough to balance out.

“Sorry,” I grunt, stopping in front of him. “I’ll … relax.”

He smiles up at me appreciatively.

Sirena walks in at eight a.m. on the dot, carrying a cup of coffee. Her eyes light up when she notices Micah.

“Oh my gosh.” She grins. “Hey, you. Long time no see!”

He stands, accepting a hug. Only at Sirena’s delight—asking him how he’s been, what he’s gotten up to—do I remember that they used to be good friends.

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