Chapter Thirty-Three

Jaxon

They're being too rough. All those hands—alphas, betas, I don't know—touching my omega.

The paramedics don't let me into the ambulance. Only Caleb gets the go-ahead, clambering after Faith's stretcher.

"She was limping," he explains. "Plus possible trauma to her right ear—there's blood."

My chest tightens, unsure if I'm about to growl or retch.

The ambulance doors slam closed. I'm fully prepared to sprint after them when the second ambulance catches my eye, revealing a broody Maverick perched over the bumper. One of the paramedics is wrapping gauze around his naked chest. He's bruised, or starting to, but otherwise unhurt.

Which is more than I can say for the alpha behind him.

Seeing me approach, Maverick explains, "Found him in the tunnels. Well, Faith did."

I growl. "He do that to her?"

"She was hurt before anyone showed up. Must've been the fall."

The paramedic mutters something about x-rays.

He shrugs her off. "I'm good." Gestures to the alpha behind him. "Just get this asshole in a guarded room."

She huffs, tucking the gauze in a little tighter.

I pause. "You get shot?"

Maverick grunts. "I'll live."

I nod to the other alpha, mangled and unconscious. "And him?"

"He'll pull through," the paramedic answers. "After a visit to the OR." She shoots Maverick a dirty look. "Thought you RDF guys knew when to pull your punches."

He goes silent. I go silent. We just stare at each other until the paramedic disappears into the body of the van.

I clear my throat. "So … you did this, huh?"

Maverick shrugs, then winces. "What can I say? I don't like getting shot."

I know then, in that instant, what he's doing. Putting his own reputation—his career—on the line. Because even for the elite RDF squadron, a violent arrest like this one will get you a write-up. Maybe even a suspension.

But if word got out that this was Faith's handiwork … well, let's just say the brass wouldn't be so lenient. She could be incarcerated. Institutionalized.

Taken away from us.

I open my mouth, fully expecting to say the words ‘thank you', when instead what comes out is, "She's all over you."

Maverick smirks. "Tends to happen when someone faints in your arms."

"That's not what I mean."

I wish he would scoff, or tease me. At least then I'd know it was just my inner alpha being territorial.

But then, in a low voice, he rumbles, "You should've seen her." His eyes glisten. "Force of fucking nature."

My body tenses, anticipating that inevitable burst of rage, when instead … I just feel warm. My packmates doesn't understand this part of Faith. The rage. The fire. Maybe they just don't want to.

But Maverick sees her. Like I do.

"Yeah," I say at last, "she is."

He smiles, and for a second I hate him again, but then the paramedics tell us they need to get their patients to the hospital, and we all squeeze in.

I don't know who he is—this bald, bloody alpha in the back of the ambulance. But I know Faith wouldn't have sniffed him out if he wasn't important. And she sure as hell wouldn't have beaten him up without a good reason.

Just thinking about Faith makes me impatient, my inner alpha barking at the paramedics to drive faster.

I remind myself Caleb is with her. He'll keep her safe.

I look down at the bloody alpha, my lip curling in disgust.

Guess that leaves guarding this piece of shit up to me .

***

"Where is she?"

My head snaps up to the sound of Micah's voice. I murmur a quick order to the guard stationed outside our suspect's door before seeking him out.

"Hey," I say, intercepting Micah in the hall, "hey, it's alright. She's safe."

"You said she was hurt," he reminds me. "On the phone, you said—"

"Come on." I guide him over to a couple chairs in the waiting room. Thankfully it's pretty quiet—we're on a private ward, after all, and visiting hours are well and truly over. "Take a seat, big guy. Catch your breath."

He inhales sharply, gripping the armrests. "Sorry. I just … need to see her."

"You and me both," I sigh. He scowls.

"You haven't checked on her yet?"

"Tried. Apparently Caleb is all the overbearing alpha they could handle."

Micah sits back in his seat. "Oh. Well … I'm glad he's with her."

I open my mouth to respond, or even grunt in affirmation, but the sound doesn't come.

Caleb won't let anything happen to Faith—I know that. But all this shit with Maverick, who—as far as I can tell—took a bullet for her, has forced me to take stock.

Faith isn't just a rogue we took under Wilder's wing. She's so much more. Fire and force. Searing blue light.

Spiced lavender.

That Caleb can't acknowledge this part of her, these feelings we all have for her, isn't just a disrespect to Faith.

It's a disrespect to his packmates.

"Jaxon?"

I blink. "Huh?"

"I asked if you were okay."

"Oh. Yeah. Fine."

He gives me a meaningful look—the kind that makes me feel like I could be one of his patients. I rub the back of my head, sighing.

"Guess I'm a little drained. My inner alpha has been screaming at me for hours." I consider. "Still screaming at me, actually."

Micah cocks his head. "What's he saying?"

"What d'you think?" I scoff. "Find omega. Take her to the den. Help her make a nest—and by the way, why hasn't she built a nest yet? Maybe I should get her a bigger bed. No—" I gesture down the hall, "—first, I should kill the alpha in that guarded room for laying a finger on her."

"I thought she—?"

"Fell. I know." I jab a finger into my chest. " He doesn't give a shit."

Micah smiles faintly. "He needs an outlet. That's all. Maybe Caleb will go a couple rounds with you once Faith is home."

"Yeah, or Maverick."

He quirks a brow. "Maverick?"

I go quiet for a moment, realizing I need to choose my words carefully. "Sure. Y'know, if he's not being a dick."

Real smooth, Jax.

My packmate, unsurprisingly, is not convinced. "You two friends now?"

"No," I snap, then lower my voice. "It's more like … I owe him one."

"For protecting Faith?"

Just hearing the words makes my inner alpha cringe possessively. I lower my voice further, scanning the ward. Apart from a nurse behind the reception desk, we're alone.

"If by ‘protecting' Faith, you mean ‘taking a bullet for her', then yeah."

Micah's jaw drops. "He—I mean—god, is he okay?"

"Had his vest. He'll be fine. But still, I don't take that shit lightly." I run a hand through my hair, begrudgingly adding, "All this flirting—I figured he was just trying to get under my skin. But it's more than that."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Jax," Micah reminds me. "Maverick's on the RDF for a reason. We're pretty much trained to put our bodies on the line for rogues."

"He doesn't just see her as a rogue. Neither do I." I give my packmate a heavy look. "And neither do you."

Micah averts his gaze, turning pink. "I don't think this is really the best time to be talking about ..."

"Yes it fucking is. If we don't talk about it now—insist on it, now —someone else will get there first." I huff. "Someone like Maverick."

"Or someone like Faith's mate. Who, again, is already her mate ."

"So what? He'll be our mate, too!" I frown, hearing myself. "Not like that. You know what I mean."

"Jaxon," Micah sighs, "I hear you, and I don't want to invalidate your feelings—or mine—but take a moment to think about where we are right now." He gestures around the ward. "Is this really the best place to be making courting plans?"

I hate that he's putting on his psychiatrist voice with me. I hate that I'm acting like a pup, so small and out of reach of what I want.

"Right," I say at last. "Fine."

"As soon as we get Faith to the den," he promises, "you and me will talk to Caleb. Then, once he understands how serious we are about this, I'm sure he'll reconsider." He eyes me warily. "Then, only then, do we offer ourselves to Faith."

I nod, feeling myself calming down. "As a pack."

Micah smiles. "As a pack."

It's not what my inner alpha wants—not right now, at least. But Micah's right. Storming into Faith's hospital room and demanding she accept my courtship is only going to push her away.

Not to mention piss off my head alpha.

"I'm gonna find Maverick," Micah says, standing. "See how he's doing. Know which room he's in?"

"Uh … medics said something about x-rays."

He moves to leave, putting his hand on my shoulder. Maybe he feels the tension there, because suddenly he stops, and turns around, throwing his arms around me.

"It's all gonna work out," he murmurs. "Promise."

My arms are slack for a moment before, slowly, returning the hug. My packmate feels warm against me. Stronger than he looks. He smells like citrus.

And home.