Chapter Twenty-One

Faith

I wake up to a smoky, musky scent—like sandalwood that's just caught fire.

Caleb and Jaxon are home. And something is wrong.

I hurl myself off the couch, my head spinning. My blood pumps so fast I can barely feel the strong, lean arms that catch me.

"Slow down, angel. You're still a little unsteady."

Pack Wilder's head alpha and second come trudging into the living room. Seeing me, Jaxon's face drops.

"Woah, woah." He meets me and Micah on the couch. "She okay?"

Micah exhales. "Just a head rush, I think."

I hurriedly reach for my notepad. WHAT HAPPENED? I thrust the words at Jaxon, then turn them to Caleb.

Caleb eyes Micah warily. "Her heat?"

"It's been quiet," Micah says. "I think we're in the clear."

Rage spikes through me. I rap my knuckles on the notepad, demanding they look at me. Stop talking as if I'm not here.

"Give us a minute, omega," Caleb says, more stern than normal. "I need to discuss something with my packmates."

That's not good enough. He thinks, because the three of them fucked me through my heat, they suddenly have a say in what happens with my case? Without so much as involving me in the conversation? That wasn't what we agreed.

"I'm serious," he growls, probably scenting my fury. "This is private."

Snarling, I write, PRIVATE. MY. ASS.

I might not be at peak strength right now, coming down from a truly monstrous heat, but if anyone tries to remove me from this room, there will be blood.

Maybe Micah senses this, because he nervously suggests, "Why don't we all just take a breath?"

I'm breathing just fine. It's Caleb and Jaxon who are on edge. They can barely look at me—hiding something from me.

Still, Micah's words must appeal to my inner omega, because I find myself breathing in like he said, forcing myself to keep a clear head. I'm surprised to note the sour tinge in Jaxon's pheromones. That's not just anger.

It's … dread .

Cautiously, I write, TELL ME. Then, at their continued reluctance, add, PLEASE.

Jaxon shoots a pleading look at his head alpha. Caleb stands there, his jaw hard as stone, before sighing.

"It's the ringleaders," he bites out. "They're after Faith."

I freeze. Next to me, Micah's breath hitches. "I—are you sure?" he asks.

Caleb nods.

Oh … okay. I guess that makes sense—a lot of bets were being placed that last night in the arena. Probably a lot of bids, too. Someone must've banked on me, won me, the moment I secured my victory against K-4.

No wonder the ringleaders are scrambling. I'm escaped merchandise.

My first instinct is horror. What the ringleaders want, they get. I don't want to be locked underground—not now, not ever again.

Except … Fang is still down there.

Suddenly everything seems so simple. I grab the marker, my heart pounding: THIS IS GOOD.

Now Micah looks horrified. " Good ?"

I don't even have to write the next sentence before Caleb grumbles, "We figured you'd say that."

"Mmph," Jaxon grunts.

"Say what?" Micah frets. "What are you guys—?" It must dawn on him then, his face falling. "Oh."

I nod. I'LL BAIT THEM.

"You mean," Jaxon growls, "you'll be the bait."

I shrug. Potato potahto.

It's the most logical solution. Not only will I be on the streets, finally working alongside the RDF in earnest, but the ringleaders will have their guard down. I'm sure they're desperate—their reputation, not to mention their funds, are all in the toilet. They can't afford to miss this opportunity.

"No," Micah says suddenly. "It's too dangerous."

Caleb rubs his brow. "There are … risks. Risks I wanted to discuss as a pack—" he shoots me a pointed look, "— before we came to any decisions."

So that was his plan? Talk things over as a pack, deliberating as to which details I was allowed to hear?

There's no use in being pissed , I urge myself. He told me, didn't he? Even if I had to bully it out of him, at least everyone is on the same page.

Well, almost everyone.

Micah stands. "What good is it going to do, putting Faith on the streets? These guys are fast, and they're silent. They've never been caught mid-traffic."

"But they're getting sloppy," Jaxon says. "Just last night, one of their bookies nearly got caught taking off down a sewer grate."

It's hard to imagine the ringleaders themselves making that kind of mistake, but if any of their hustlers get caught, they'll be in even deeper shit.

"And of course," Caleb reluctantly adds, "we'd be with her the whole time. At least two alphas marking her, tracking her every move."

Micah quirks an eyebrow. "You don't think that'd look a little suspicious?"

"Hey." Jaxon puffs his chest out. "I can be discreet."

Neither of his packmates look convinced. Thankfully, I'm convinced enough for the lot of them.

I write, THIS COULD BE THE ONLY WAY TO MAKE THEM RESURFACE.

Three sets of eyes look over my shoulder, noting every word. I can feel their collective sigh—the hot air on the back of my neck like a fog of protective pheromones.

For the first time since I got to Wilder Den, I can see it. My chance.

If finding the remaining ringleaders, finding Fang , means I have to put my body on the line once again, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

All I need is a little extra help.