Chapter Twenty-Four

Faith

The big, idiot redhead won't leave me alone. It's just one question after another.

"How'd you know how to play me?"

FOUGHT SOMEONE LIKE YOU BEFORE.

"An alpha?"

NO.

"An omega, then?"

I roll my eyes.

He's strong—I'll give him that much. Though he'd better be, for someone built like a goddamn Viking. He's also not scared of me, which is more than I can say for the rest of the RDF.

The head of intelligence, an alpha they call Sirena, offers me a seat next to her desk. "We've been keeping an eye on all the surveillance cameras in New Caniss. Especially cameras near storm drains."

Jaxon leans over my shoulder. "Even the ringleaders need to come up for air sometime, right?"

Not as often as you'd think, I sign. Then, at their blank looks, I sigh.

I uncap my marker. ONLY DURING THE OFF SEASON .

Caleb tilts his head. "The off season?"

God, they don't even know that much? It's not like the ringleaders are hosting championship fights year-round. January through August, they're mostly training us up, narrowing the fighting pool until they've established their strongest contenders.

I explain as much to the squad. They look baffled.

"How were they keeping the lights on?" Jaxon asks. "I mean, if the cash doesn't start flowing in until September— "

Maverick scoffs. "Just think about how much she's worth. That trophy money's gotta hold them over, and then some."

I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE , I tell them. LOTS OF OMEGAS GET SOLD OFF.

Caleb frowns. "But not the alphas."

My heart clenches, instantly thinking of Fang. I shake my head.

Sirena looks deep in thought. "We always suspected there was more trafficking involved, but we couldn't find a pattern. When. Why." Her eyes brighten. "I can use this."

I can't help it—a tiny little bit of pride rushes through me.

"Ooft." Maverick puts a hand on his chest. "Say that again, Sir. Think you made her blush."

I shoot him a glare, but Jaxon and Caleb beat me to it. They've been taking turns growling at Maverick since the fight. I'd probably be snapping at all three of them if it weren't for my inner omega, who gets a little fuzzy every time the Wilder alphas defend my honor.

Caleb suggests we do a tour of the city's storm drains. If anyone can sniff out the ringleaders, it's me.

"There's still the nagging question of estralide," Sirena says. "Seems like all the rogues were being dosed—no scent there—but what about the ringleaders?"

I scoff. Everyone looks at me.

Hastily, I write, THEY DRUGGED THE FOOD, RIGHT?

"Yes," Caleb confirms, "as far as we can tell."

R'LEADERS DON'T TOUCH THAT STUFF. I remember how Fang and I used to joke about it—how snobby they were.

"So they had a scent?" Caleb presses.

NOT A STRONG ONE. BUT YES.

"They've gotta be on some thing," Maverick grumbles, "or I'd have scented them in the tunnels."

Jaxon smirks. "Maybe that nose of yours isn't as good as you thought."

I explain, IT'S NOT A NORMAL SCENT. MORE CLOUDY.

Maverick shoots Jaxon a triumphant look.

THEY WERE CONSTANTLY SNORTING UP. SURPRISED YOU MISSED IT . My eyes flash, challenging. AREN'T YOU THE RDF'S SNIFFER DOG?

Maybe I was hoping that would shut Maverick up, but he just leans in closer, bracing his hands against the desk. "Why? You wanna put me on a leash?"

Jaxon snarls. " Watch it ."

"Enough," Caleb says, cutting between them.

Fury radiates off Jaxon's scent. "He's the one who accused Faith of being out of control—now listen to him! Can't keep it in his damn pants."

Maverick laughs. "You're one to talk."

" Enough ," Caleb says, harder, saving me before I can blush.

It's not like two posturing alphas is new territory for me. Normally I'd stick close by Fang and wait for it to blow over, but up here on the surface … well, I think I've picked enough fights for one day.

Finally, Caleb announces, "First thing tomorrow, Maverick and I will take Faith around the drains. See what's what."

Jaxon goes to argue. A sharp look from his head alpha silences him.

I sense a whole lot of eyes on me. Maybe the squad thinks I won't notice—I'm used to being stared at, after all—but it makes my skin crawl.

I can't play these guys the way I played the arena. They know my tricks. My weaknesses. One good fight isn't enough leverage to save my mate.

I'm going to have to prove myself, over and over, before I get what I came for.