Page 58 of Faith and Fury

Faith bristles. Adrenaline turns her scent sour.

“What are they?” I ask for her.

“All the vitamins she’s deficient in. Might be what’s holding her back—can’t work at full capacity until you’re healthy.”

Her lip curls, glaring daggers between Caleb and the pills.

“Caleb,” I say cautiously. God, he did not think this through—forcing medication on someone who’s been non-consensually drugged for the last three years? Pretty tactless. “Maybe later, okay?”

“You’ve got her water bottle right there,” he snaps.

Faith recoils into the couch.

“Give them to me,” I say. “We can talk about it after dinner. They’re probably better on a full stomach anyway.”

He hesitates, his own pheromones agitated, before dropping the pills in my hand.

“I don’t want to force anything on you,” he explains, stiffly, to Faith. “I just want to give us the best shot possible. That’s all.”

She softens ever-so-slightly. Considering. Her eyes don’t leave him until he’s well and truly disappeared into the master bedroom.

I release my breath. That could’ve been ugly.

It’s weird to see my head alpha like this. He’s worked on plenty of tough cases before, and put plenty of squadmates in their place, but I’ve never seen him snap at a rogue. It’s like he’s trying to separate Faith from her omega. Pretend she’s just another cog in the RDF machine. That machine has to be working at maximum capacity, like he said.

If Faith can’t do that, can’t be that … then that just leaves her core, rogue self.

The omega we’re all falling in love with.

Suddenly Faith snatches my hand. She pries my fingers open, taking the pills.

“Omega—” I gasp.

It’s too late. She tosses the entire batch into her mouth and washes it down. Grimacing, swallowing.

I blink. “Oh.”

Wiping her lips, she grabs the marker to write, IT’LL MAKE ME BETTER.

I frown. “What makes you so sure?”

She tilts her head at me like the answer should be obvious.

CALEB SAID SO.

My throat clenches. That trust—so instant, so pure, after everything she’s been through—is nothing short of a miracle. A gift.

If Caleb can’t see that, he’s not the head alpha I thought he was.

Chapter Thirty

Faith

“Here we are,” Maverick announce, standing over a grimy manhole. “Lucky number forty-four.”

I try not to cringe, thinking about all the time we’ve wasted to get here. We were meant to cover this ground in three days, and now—because I can’t get my stupid ass down into the tunnels—we’re closing in on five.

With nothing to show for it.

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