Chapter Twenty-Nine

Micah

My phone buzzes constantly throughout the day.

JAXON

Look at what Maverick just sent me.

He forwards an image of Faith, bent ever-so-slightly over a sewer grate. From this distance, it's hard to fully appreciate the sweet curve of her jeans, perfectly rounded, or the way her breasts hang ever-so-slightly in her top.

But that sure as hell does not stop my inner alpha from preening.

JAXON

The prick.

I roll my eyes— He's just trying to rile you up —and press send.

JAXON

Exactly.

The PRICK.

I smirk.

The more worrying messages come from Caleb. He updates me every couple hours, like he promised.

CALEB

She tried it again.

Keeps pushing herself.

I remind him of the breathing exercises we talked about. Then, if that doesn't work, I suggest he lets his alpha take over.

Caleb responds another two hours later.

CALEB

She likes my scent.

A part of me dreads to think how the situation calls for him to use his scent at all, but another part is relieved. Caleb was all-too willing to brush me off when I last spoke to him about courting Faith. Maybe, after this expedition, he'll think twice.

Neither Jaxon or Caleb have anything new to report by the end of the day. The atmosphere is thick with frustration—not in small part because Faith comes home reeking of a certain red-headed alpha.

"He's doing it on purpose," Jaxon mutters, drying the dishes.

"He's an alpha," I say. "It's only natural."

"Oh, then I guess it's ‘only natural' that I get to punch him in the face?"

I start to hand him another wet plate when Faith enters the kitchen, fresh and rosy from the shower.

Jaxon perks up. "Hey, gorgeous."

She slides between us, taking the plate meant for Jaxon. My packmate and I look at each other, confused, as she grabs a tea-towel.

"You don't have to do that," I tell her. "Really."

She finishes drying, then signs something I don't recognize—her hands outstretched, shaking. Seems pretty self-explanatory.

"You feeling a little on edge, angel?" I ask.

She sighs, gesturing for another dish.

Already, I can scent Jaxon's concern, sneaking yet another glance over her head. I smile softly.

"You know," I say, "Jax is a lot like that, too. Can't sit still, even when he needs rest."

Jaxon's expression darkens, but then he notices the way Faith angles her head. "Uh." He clears his throat. "Yeah. Guess I am."

Faith frowns. Then, as soon as her glass is dry, she puts it down, and grabs Jaxon's wrist.

He starts. "Omega?"

She drags him out of the kitchen. I watch them go, my heart skipping a beat as she practically throws my packmate onto the couch. He stares up at her in shock.

Chuffing, Faith looks around for her notepad. Instead she tries to sign—her hands moving exaggeratedly.

"What's that?" Jaxon asks. "Uh … sit? Stay?"

She rolls her eyes. Signs again.

I start to get an idea of what she's saying, but I don't intervene. I don't even turn off the water, my eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

Faith makes the sign one more time, crossing her hands over her chest. Finally, Jaxon's eyes light up.

"Rest," he blurts out. "You want me to rest, omega?"

She heaves a sigh of relief.

His grins, pleased with himself. "I can do that. Under one condition."

Faith's eyes light up in shock as Jaxon grabs her by the waist, pulling her into his lap.

He purrs, "You gotta rest with me."

Her breath hitches, appearing vaguely stunned—as if she can't quite figure out how she ended up in this predicament.

It's adorable.

Eventually, she gathers her bearings, and her teeth flash in warning … but she doesn't try to escape. She just rolls her eyes again as he turns on the TV, surfing for the right channel.

The sink must be nearly overflowing by now. Even still, I can't bear to look away.

A flicker of motion from the master bedroom catches my eye. I think I see Caleb, peering out through a crack in the door.

Just as captivated as I am.

***

The updates become fewer and bleaker in between. By Thursday night, both Faith and Caleb are at the end of their tethers.

Nothing! Faith signs—a word I've grown increasingly familiar with.

I put my hand on her thigh, encouraging her to have a drink from her water bottle. I made her promise she'd finish it off during the day—she's been getting dehydrated—but it must've slipped her mind.

"Don't give up," I say, "you'll get a lead, sooner or later."

She makes an angry sign, then, at my helpless look, writes, SOONER .

I sigh.

Caleb meets us in the living room. He thrusts out his palm, holding a myriad of pills. "Take these," he says sternly. "They'll help."

Faith bristles. Adrenaline turns her scent sour.

"What are they?" I ask for her.

"All the vitamins she's deficient in. Might be what's holding her back—can't work at full capacity until you're healthy."

Her lip curls, glaring daggers between Caleb and the pills.

"Caleb," I say cautiously. God, he did not think this through —forcing medication on someone who's been non-consensually drugged for the last three years? Pretty tactless. "Maybe later, okay?"

"You've got her water bottle right there," he snaps.

Faith recoils into the couch.

"Give them to me," I say. "We can talk about it after dinner. They're probably better on a full stomach anyway."

He hesitates, his own pheromones agitated, before dropping the pills in my hand.

"I don't want to force anything on you," he explains, stiffly, to Faith. "I just want to give us the best shot possible. That's all."

She softens ever-so-slightly. Considering. Her eyes don't leave him until he's well and truly disappeared into the master bedroom.

I release my breath. That could've been ugly.

It's weird to see my head alpha like this. He's worked on plenty of tough cases before, and put plenty of squadmates in their place, but I've never seen him snap at a rogue. It's like he's trying to separate Faith from her omega. Pretend she's just another cog in the RDF machine. That machine has to be working at maximum capacity, like he said.

If Faith can't do that, can't be that … then that just leaves her core, rogue self.

The omega we're all falling in love with.

Suddenly Faith snatches my hand. She pries my fingers open, taking the pills.

"Omega—" I gasp.

It's too late. She tosses the entire batch into her mouth and washes it down. Grimacing, swallowing.

I blink. "Oh."

Wiping her lips, she grabs the marker to write, IT'LL MAKE ME BETTER.

I frown. "What makes you so sure?"

She tilts her head at me like the answer should be obvious.

CALEB SAID SO.

My throat clenches. That trust—so instant, so pure, after everything she's been through—is nothing short of a miracle. A gift.

If Caleb can't see that, he's not the head alpha I thought he was.