Chapter Forty-Four

Faith

Caleb says nothing the entire drive. I don't know where he's taking me, or what he means by ‘safe house', but I don't question it.

I can't stay in Wilder Den another second.

She'll go feral.

Hurt you.

Hurt herself.

We were all in over our heads. My inner omega was content to be wrapped up in Pack Wilder's arms, believing—for once—that I might actually be enough. That was all I wanted. All I asked for.

No-one said anything about joining their pack.

It would kill you.

Caleb was talking to his packmates … but the words might as well have been directed at me.

"We're here."

I blink, realizing the car has come to a stop. We're parked at the end of a poorly lit cul-de-sac, the scattered bungalows telling me we've made it all the way out to the suburbs.

"Wait there." Caleb kills the engine. "I'll help you out."

Fuck that, I growl to myself, but then my inner omega's voice pops up—whining pathetically. She wants his hands on me.

Even if it's for the last time.

He grabs my crutches from the trunk and comes around to the passenger side, lifting me down. His scent is harsh. Burnt.

"Let's get you inside," he mutters, scanning the street for prying eyes. "I've got your bag."

I realize only as we trudge to the front door of a small, run-down house that I'm still barely clothed. Micah's shirt hangs over me, skimming my knees. I didn't bother to find pants. Or socks. Even my boots are unlaced, grating against my ankles.

Caleb must realize this at the same time, as he hesitates, his fist hovering above the door.

He swallows back a growl before knocking firmly.

A light flicks on. I don't hear anything inside, but a familiar scent comes floating out from under the wood.

Is that … cinnamon ?

The front door groans open, revealing a shirtless, disheveled Maverick. I can't help myself from ogling the tattoos swirling across his chest, his shoulders … following the hard, thick muscles all the way down the baseball bat clutched in his hands.

"Christ," he huffs. Then he sees me, and his gaze turns hot. "Am I dreaming?"

"She needs somewhere to stay," Caleb bites out. "I tried to call."

Maverick lets us inside. He leads me down the hall by the small of my back while Caleb closes the door behind us.

The inside of the house is not what I expect, with dated, peeling wallpaper and creaky floorboards. Even the air smells off, like no-one has lived here in a very long time.

Maverick offers to take my crutches as I sit on the couch. It's scratchy and worn-down—nothing like the furniture at Wilder Den—but so what? I'll sleep anywhere if it means sparing Caleb, Jaxon, and Micah the inconvenience.

"You guys alright?" Maverick asks. "The den compromised or something?"

"We're fine," Caleb assures him. "Faith just …" he eyes me, warily, "needed a change of pace."

Maverick stares. "At one in the morning?"

Neither of us say anything. I can't say anything, I realize suddenly, thinking of the big notepad I left at Wilder Den. It shouldn't matter—the pages had almost run out, anyway—but I feel oddly naked without it.

Caleb says, "Can you watch her for a couple days? Keep her off that ankle?"

I go to growl, but my chest only aches.

"Yeah," Maverick says, "'course I can."

"Obviously you're exempt from fieldwork, but I'll call you if anything comes up."

"So," Maverick drawls, "tomorrow morning …?"

My ears perk up. What's happening tomorrow morning ?

Maverick looks at me, then looks at Caleb. "What, you didn't tell her?"

Caleb sighs, rubbing his forehead like he's getting a migraine.

Tell me, I sign. I know neither of them can read the words, but that doesn't protect them from my demanding, pissed-off-omega scent.

Caleb says, "Take it easy, omega. I was going to tell you when I had the chance." Anger simmers inside of me, wanting to call bullshit, until he goes on, "The NCPD is putting alphas on almost every manhole in the city. Assuming the guards change over at dawn … we'll be waiting for them."

"And making damn sure they lead us to their new base," Maverick adds.

They … used my intel. I thought Caleb had been ignoring me, looking for any excuse to take me out of the fight.

"It's a gamble," Caleb grits out, "and costly, in more ways than one."

"What can we say?" Maverick grins. "We got tired of sitting on our asses."

My inner omega twitches with excitement. Caleb listened to me. He knows I'm useful to the team—knows they can't find the ring without me.

Finally, I sign, I'm coming.

Caleb exhales. "I'm guessing that was something about tagging along."

No shit, I cut back.

"Think it through," he growls. "You're a big enough liability with two working feet. With one? You'd put the entire operation at risk."

I try not to cringe.

"Don't worry, kitten." Maverick places a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure the guys will keep me posted. So I can keep you posted."

This morning, I might've bitten his hand clean off. My inner omega was finally getting used to Pack Wilder's scents, floating around me like a protective cocoon. Any intruders would not be welcome.

Yet now … I'm just relieved that someone can still touch me without flinching.

I don't realize Caleb and Maverick are still talking, ironing out the details, until Caleb catches my eye.

"Use Maverick's phone if you need to contact me. Otherwise …" his jaw flexes, "I'll see you in a couple days."

I'm not a pup , I want to snarl .

Instead, I nod once. Caleb's shoulders sink ever-so-slightly, though whether he's relieved or just exhausted, it's hard to tell.

"Get some sleep, boss," Maverick says. "Early start tomorrow."

Caleb grunts. "I'll show myself out."

With a final, lingering look I can't quite read, Caleb walks himself back the way we came. My inner omega is at a loss the second I can't see him anymore, my heart clenching when I hear the door close.

Alpha really left , she whimpers. He left us here.

I remind myself that Caleb's left me behind plenty of times. The only difference now is that the air is thick and charred, like his inner alpha was roaring to break free—maybe to tell me to stay the fuck away from him, and his pack, for good.

"Goddamn, omega." Maverick sits next to me. "That is one bad vibe. You in pain?"

My cheeks feel hot. Pain ?

He gestures. "Your ankle."

Oh. Slowly, I shake my head.

He relaxes slightly, his muscles rippling as he leans against the couch. "God, I'm beat. Your head alpha sure knows how to work a guy to the bone."

Everything inside of me hurts at the words. Head alpha. My head alpha.

"Woah, no need to get defensive," he laughs, making me realize I've bared my teeth. "C'mon, kitten, let's get you set up in the bedroom."

Maverick offers me his hand. My instinct is not to take it, but even if I could stand on my own, I'm not sure how far I'd get before my knees caved in.

I accept his help, my inner omega preening at how strong he is, how steady, as he leads me into one of the adjoining rooms.

I don't question whose bed I'm falling onto, or why the blankets are still warm.

As my head hits the pillow, I close my eyes tight enough to see colors.

Tight enough to hold back my tears.