Page 43 of Faith and Fury

My inner alpha wants to put myself in her place. Fight in her honor—and maybe kick Maverick down a couple pegs. But he also acknowledges her strength. Her cunning.

And maybe, just a little bit, adores her for it.

“Holding cells,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Two minutes.”

Funnily enough, Faith is the only person who doesn’t look baffled by my announcement. She doesn’t tear her gaze from Maverick, busily analyzing his tall, muscular form.

“Please,” Jaxon says, sounding pained now. “Don’t do this.”

I ignore him. He’ll understand soon enough.

“One round. Maverick versus Faith.” I straighten. “We’ll see who comes out on top.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jaxon

He’s out of his mind. Out of his goddamn fucking mind.

Every single member of the RDF crowds around the holding cells, watching as Faith and Maverick take their places on either side of one glass room.

The last time Faith was here, she beat up a fellow omega while the alphas in the adjoining cell just watched—unable to intervene. That’s the whole reason we separate our rogues to begin with. If even one alpha found themselves in a fight with the omegas, god knows what might happen.

Faith is strong. Fast. Smart.

But she is no match for an alpha.

“Close the door,” Caleb orders.

I push through the crowd, slamming my palms on the glass precisely as it locks shut.

“Fuck!” I snap. “Okay, you’ve all made your point. Very ballsy. Or progressive. Or whatever the fuck you’re going for.” I turn to Caleb. “Are we done now?”

“They both consented to this.” Caleb grits his teeth. “One round can’t hurt.”

Can’t hurt? Did he forget Maverick comes from special fucking ops?

I still have one hand on the glass when Caleb continues, “Rules are simple. No kill shots. Winner pins their opponent for ten seconds, or they knock them clean out.” He glares into the closed cell. “For both your sakes, I recommend the former. You’ve got five minutes.”

Someone readies a timer. Grunting, Sirena nudges her way next to me. “This is barbaric,” she says.

I only manage a growl in response.

Before I can think of a better argument to stop them—maybe, What the fuck would Micah have to say about this?—Caleb calls time.

The match begins.

Maverick charges without a second’s hesitation. My inner alpha screams at Faith to run!, but she holds steady. Doesn’t move until the very last second.

Maverick runs headfirst into the glass wall, the entire room ringing around them.

Huh. That was pretty good.

Faith leaps onto his back, locking one arm around his neck, using the other to elbow the ever-loving hell out of him. Audible gasps pass around the squad.

Unfortunately for her, what Maverick lacks in speed, he makes up for in brute strength—throwing her over his shoulder like it’s nothing. She hits the floor with grace, rolling upon impact.

“She’s fast,” someone breaths.

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