Page 81 of Faith and Fury

Micah bristles. “You’ve been keeping things from Caleb?”

She hesitates, then answers, HE DIDN’T ASK.

Fair enough. The perfect conversation, according to our head alpha, would consist purely of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers. At first I thought that made him and Faith perfect for each other, but now I’m not so sure.

“I’m listening, sweetheart,” I tell her at last. “Ready when you are.”

Micah nods, determined.

Faith spins the pen around her fingers. She takes a breath.

And she writes.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Faith

WE HARDLY SAW THE RINGLEADERS. I ASSUMED THEY WERE SCARED OF US. I grit my teeth. NOW I REALIZE IT WAS A CONTINGENCY.

Jaxon and Micah stare at me with big, pressing eyes. I know it’s taking everything they have to stay silent and not interrupt.

IT TOOK A LOT OF GUARDS TO KEEP THINGS RUNNING. 2 ON SHOWERS, 3 ON MEALS. PER CELL. I nod to myself, writing fast enough that the memory doesn’t quite consume me. THEY WORKED IN SHIFTS. EVEN WATCHED US SLEEP.

Micah bristles. My inner omega whines at me to put my hand on his leg, to calm him, but I don’t think either of us can handle being touched right now.

AXE, I write, more stiffly, WAS THE R’LEADERS EYES AND EARS. ANYTHING WENT DOWN IN THE CELLS, HE’D KNOW. I scoff. TALK ABOUT STOCKHOLM SYNDROME.

Jaxon leans forward, frowning. “You’re sure he used to be a fighter?”

NO-ONE WOULD’VE RESPECTED— I cross out the word, and try again—WOULD’VE RESPECTED OBEYED HIM IF HE DIDN’T HAVE SOME RING CRED.

“What was he like?” Micah asks. “I mean, as a person. Any ticks or weird hang-ups?”

I smile bitterly. MY GUESS - IMPOTENT.

Jaxon chokes. “What makes you say that?”

YEARS OF ESTRALIDE. PLUS ALL THE MACHO BULLSHIT.

“Maybe that was a safety measure,” Micah says, diplomatically, “making sure no-one stepped out of line?”

IT WAS MORE THAN THAT.

I stop myself. My hand is already cramping up—gripping the pen harder than I should be—and besides, I’m not sure they want to hear the gory details.

Jaxon and Micah look at me with concern. Gently, Jaxon takes my hand. I want to lace my fingers between his, drag him into me. But I’m the one who started this. I need to see it through.

I write, HE KNEW ABOUT ME AND FANG.

The room stills. Maybe they can sense where this is going.

I take a breath. SOMETIMES HE’D KNOCK ME AROUND, TRYING TO TURN FANG FERAL. My stomach twists. MAKES FOR A BLOODIER MATCH.

“Oh my god,” Micah whispers in horror. “Faith, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jaxon growls. “Next time I see that asshole, I swear to god—he’s dead.”

Jaxon, I sign, meaningfully.

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