Chapter Thirty

Faith

"Here we are," Maverick announce, standing over a grimy manhole. "Lucky number forty-four."

I try not to cringe, thinking about all the time we've wasted to get here. We were meant to cover this ground in three days, and now—because I can't get my stupid ass down into the tunnels—we're closing in on five.

With nothing to show for it.

"We'll sweep the block," Caleb says, "call me if you run into any trouble."

Maverick shoots me a wink before getting to work. His new assistant, Delia, is already swabbing the manhole for samples—a stoic, no-nonsense alpha whose company suits me just fine.

Caleb at my side, we walk the street. The sky has mellowed out into dusk, which means more foot traffic—office workers clocking out for the day. I check one face after the next, searching for anything, anyone, familiar.

Though the people we're after don't exactly hold nine-to-fives.

The sidewalk narrows. It's easy enough for Caleb to carve out a path—no-one's stupid enough to get in his way—but I'm not so lucky, as an alpha in a fancy suit knocks onto me.

"Sorry," he says blandly.

I bare my teeth—habit, really—assuming that'll be the end of it.

Until a big, angry hand grabs his shoulder.

I snap up to see Caleb, his expression black as night, glaring daggers down at the alpha. "Again. Like you mean it," he rumbles.

The alpha nearly drops his briefcase. He blurts out a more sincere apology.

Sneering, Caleb lets him go.

I don't even watch the alpha scurry off, sucked into Caleb's aura—crackling like a bonfire. He smells of smoke and kindling, making my omega dizzy.

"Here," he grunts, shrugging his jacket off and draping it over my shoulders. "Put this on."

Numbly, I do as I'm told.

My inner omega purrs incessantly. Normally she hates being given orders, but if he's going to keep protecting me, showing the world what I'm worth … then maybe I'm okay with it now and again.

We check out the local bars in case there are any bookies are on the prowl. Caleb sneaks me expectant sideways looks, but no-one stands out.

God, could I be any more useless?

"C'mon," he says, "time to regroup."

Keeping my head down, not wanting him to scent my shame, I follow Caleb back to the manhole.

We find Maverick basically squaring up with some alpha in maintenance overalls. Delia hovers behind him, her eyes brightening with relief when she sees Caleb.

"I don't care who you work for—you're not going down here," the maintenance worker snaps.

"And I told you," Maverick returns, "‘careful' is my middle name."

"That ladder is non-functional . Being careful isn't gonna stop you from breaking your neck."

Caleb intervenes—"Non-functional?"

The maintenance worker puffs his chest out. "Now who the hell are you?"

Caleb whips out his ID. "RDF. I'm guessing my colleague here didn't think to show you a badge." He shoots Maverick a meaningful look.

Maverick grins sheepishly, pulling out his ID, and Delia follows suit.

Finally, the maintenance workers takes it down a notch. "Right. Fine. Well, like I said, there's no getting down this way. Ladder's rusted."

"When's it getting replaced?" Caleb asks.

"Maybe soon. Maybe later. You know how it is."

I catch Caleb's jaw flex, though he speaks evenly. "What's the number for your manager?"

The guy scoffs. "You mean the city councilor?"

"Alright. I'll call her."

"Good luck with that."

Realizing the conversation is drawing to a close, Maverick groans. "So that's it?" He gestures to the manhole, leveraged open against the pavement. "And after me and Delia went all the trouble of opening it."

I roll my eyes. Jackass could lift that cover one-handed if he wanted to .

"Let's roll out," Caleb orders. "Still three hotspots to go."

Muttering, Maverick crouches down to close the manhole. It's only when he shifts out of the way, his pheromones shifting with him, that I notice it.

A familiar scent.

Like bleach and nicotine—I'm instantly transported to the arena. The ringleaders rarely dealt with rogues personally, which meant they needed a whole entourage of lackeys. Bringing us meals. Escorting us to the courtyard. Overseeing the showers.

My stomach drops, like the very core of me is still down there. Trapped. Underground.

I don't let myself think.

I drop to my knees, faster than anyone can catch me. Maverick rears back in shock—

Leaving the manhole wide open.

"Faith—stop! Stop !"

Someone grabs my shoulder, but Caleb's jacket is so big on me, all they get is leather.

I grip the handles. They're rusted, like the maintenance guy warned, but otherwise intact.

My adrenaline carries me halfway down. That's when the panic sets in. Cement over my head. Darkness closing me in. I'll never make it out. But maybe I just have to be okay with that.

An icy dread of acceptance washes over me. Carrying me further down.

"I'm going after her," Maverick declares. The ladder rattles.

"Don't! It'll snap!"

"Are you lot out of your mind?" the maintenance guy hurls. "Get your omega in order!"

Two snarls answer him, both sharp enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I put my foot down on the next rung, thinking I must be near the bottom. Metal groans against me. I have to be fast—need to move on before it gives. I step down.

And something pops .

My lower body loses all purchase. The shock of it, the weight, throws me off guard. My palms burn against the rusted metal as I try to catch myself.

"Faith!"

For a half second, I'm weightless.

And then I'm on the ground.