Chapter Fifteen

Micah

I notice it before the others.

It's not obvious at first—I mean, Faith is fidgety enough to begin with—but this is different.

She's relapsing.

I've tried to tell Caleb he shouldn't be keeping her in the dark. She's getting impatient. Worse than that, she's losing her trust in him.

Begrudgingly, he explained to me and Jaxon why we haven't seen the sketch artist yet. He doesn't want to bring another alpha into the den—this is Faith's safe space, for all intents and purposes. Nor does he want to bring Faith to headquarters, in case being around all those alphas is too triggering.

All in all, not a great way to start the new week.

I find her pacing the living room while my packmates are out, dragging an armchair towards the window.

Random nesting instincts? Check .

I call out, "Faith?"

She turns.

I make a loose C shape with my hand, gesturing down my chest. "Hungry?"

She doesn't seem as startled as she used to be by my attempts at sign. Hopefully that means I'm getting a little better.

No, she signs back.

Yeah—that one I learned pretty quickly.

Keeping my eye on the living room—Faith getting up every other minute to rearrange the furniture—I resolve to talk to Caleb about her heat arrangements as soon as he gets home. Logically, I know we should be checking her into hospital … but just thinking about it makes my inner alpha cringe.

Faith is here at Wilder Den for a reason, and that reason is for us to take care of her. No-one else.

Suddenly I gasp, noting the rising pressure in my pants.

"Shit , " I hiss.

What the hell is wrong with me! I've had plenty of my omega patients go into heat. Granted, never while I was in the room, but I've certainly overseen enough pre-heats to last a lifetime.

So why is the mere thought of ‘taking care' of Faith getting me hard as a rock?

A loud thud from the living room snaps me out of it. I race out of the kitchen, finding Faith on the floor. Like she's fallen.

"Faith." I crouch down. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Groggily, she looks past me at the couch. Was she trying to move it?

"Oh, omega—" I stop myself before I can touch her, but to my surprise, she doesn't seem the least bit inclined to bite my hand off. Her cheeks are flushed the cutest pink. Her eyes are glossy. Her lips …

I swallow.

Hastily, I grab her notepad from the coffee table. "Talk to me," I plead. "Are you feeling sick?"

She writes with an unsteady hand— DIZZY.

"Okay." Shit. Fuck. "That's okay. Can I help you sit up?"

There are several hazy beats of hesitation before she nods, letting me maneuver her onto the couch. Her skin is slick with sweat, but not as hot as I feared.

Against my better judgement, I take a deep breath. Still no scent .

That's good. Means it hasn't started yet.

I make sure she's comfortable before going to the window, pushing it ajar. Poor thing probably needs some air.

"Try to take deep breaths, okay?" I advise. "I'm going to get you some water."

I wait for her to nod in acknowledgement before hurrying into the kitchen. My phone is sitting on the counter.

Caleb needs to get back here. Right now.

911.

I think Faith is going into pre-heat.

Almost immediately, I can see three dots pop up on the screen. I don't have time to wait—our omega needs to hydrate.

I fill up a glass of water and rush back into the living room. My eyes instantly go to the couch, but she's not there. She's at the window, now cranked all the way open, reaching into the evening air.

The glass slips from my hand, shattering against the floorboards.

" Omega !" I shout.

Time seems to move in slow motion. I throw myself across the room, stomach lurching, head spinning, like I'm the one who's falling. Better it be me than her. Anyone but her.

Please god, don't let this happen again .

Then my arms are around her. I can taste my heart in my throat, beating viciously. She feels cold against me, like a ghost.

Or an angel.

***

"Are you Micah Wilder?"

I was. I am.

"She didn't put down a first of kin, so we weren't sure who else to call."

I want to walk out of the emergency room and never come back. I know what's about to happen. I know it's going to break me.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor Wilder … I'm afraid she didn't make it."

Doctor. Is that what I am? It doesn't seem right.

Not anymore.

***

The pain comes to me slowly, then in pieces.

It takes at least three more punches before I realize Faith is sitting on top of me. My instincts must've kicked in, at least—I'm blocking my face, protected from the worst of it. If she were more lucid right now, she'd probably be slashing my throat out.

But she's not lucid.

She's feral.

I try to sit up, but her thighs are pinned around my waist. I can't free myself without grabbing her—and that didn't exactly work out well last time.

"Holy fuck !"

Jaxon's voice fills me with relief, but it's Caleb's bark that seals the deal.

"Omega," my head alpha barks, " stop !"

With a short gasp, Faith stills. Her glossy eyes tremble. Paralyzed .

"Gently," I croak as Jaxon lifts her off of me. "It–it's not her fault."

Caleb hoists me to my feet. He quickly scans me for injury, pinching my jaw to check my face from all angles. "Sit," he growls, "I'll get you some ice."

"I'm fine. Faith, she—"

In my peripheral vision, Faith reaches feebly toward the window. She's still in Jaxon's arms, immobilized, but her eyes glisten with longing. Right when I think my heart can't clench any tighter … a single tear rolls down her cheek.

"Omega," Jaxon gasps as Faith's knees give out.

The two of them sink to the floorboards, Faith trembling with each silent sob.

Nudging my head alpha aside, I go to them. Jaxon has his arms wrapped around Faith's waist, her back to his chest. I move her hair off her face. Letting the tears run freely.

I don't know what we're missing, or what about the window is so important, but it doesn't matter. This isn't about me.

This is about Faith.

In the last remaining hours before her heat.