Page 87 of Faith and Fury

CALEB

Don’t let Faith out of your sight

New intel - she’s not safe

I glare down at my phone, my blood pumping hard. We already knew the ringleaders wanted Faith back, but if he thinks the threat has escalated …

“Hey.” I clap Micah’s back. “We gotta get out of here.”

He frowns. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Faith perks up, sitting cross-legged on the picnic blanket. She woke up from her nap even twitcher than she’d been before, so Micah and I figured it might be good to get her some fresh air. Hence, a picnic at the park.

I show Micah the text from Caleb. He pales.

“Right. Okay.” He puts a hand on Faith’s thigh. “I’m sorry, angel, but we need to get moving.”

She signs, What’s wrong?

“Uh …” he looks up at me. “Caleb’s on edge. Thinks it’s not safe for you to be away from the den.”

Her disappointment is obvious, turning her lavender scent sour, but to my relief she doesn’t argue.

We pack up the little sandwiches and chopped fruit before helping Faith to her feet. She insists on using her crutches, even though it would be faster (and much more fun) for me to carry her.

The whole drive home, my eyes are sharp, scanning the road for any conceivable threat to my omega.

***

Caleb stations me at the den the next day. And the day after.

At first I think he’s punishing me—I’ve made it perfectly clear I’m on Micah’s side in the whole I-love-you debacle—but I realize pretty quick it’s not about that.

He’s just as terrified as the rest of us that something could happen to Faith. And he wants me to be close to her, protecting her, until he figures out what to do about that.

Faith tires herself out pacing, and asking questions I don’t have the answer to, before falling asleep in the middle of the day. I carry her into her bedroom, Micah already pulling back the blankets.

“You have any laundry?” Micah asks me. “I’m putting on a load.”

“Nah, but I’ll hang it up if you want. Gonna work out.”

He nods appreciatively.

Our laundry room doubles as a mini gym, including a punching bag, set of dumbbells, and a yoga mat. Normally I do my training at the gym next to headquarters, but I can’t bear the idea of being that far away from Faith. Not right now.

I do a couple stretches and warm-ups, making sure my blood is moving, before grabbing the wrist wraps. It’s time to really get my heart rate up.

I pounce around the punching bag, landing a couple jabs. Then a couple more. Before I know it, I’m slipping into easy combos, succumbing to the violent rhythm.

A loud knock at the door stops me. Panting, I turn to see Faith standing there, appraising me.

“Omega.” I grab my phone to turn my music off. “Sorry, baby girl—did I wake you?”

She gestures for the phone. I hand it to her without question, watching as she opens up a blank note. YOUR CROSS IS OFF.

I laugh. “Oh really?”

TOO STIFF.

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