Chapter Fifty-Four

Faith

It's cold. And damp—the air so thick, I feel like I'm drowning. I don't recognize the sleek, dark tiles beneath me, or the glowing yellow lights overhead.

The only thing I recognize is his voice.

"Faith. Faith— you with me?"

My eyes flutter all the way open. I sit up too quickly, my vision sloshing around, but then I see him. Feel his arms on me.

Fang, I sign.

Weeks of being away from him come rushing back to me at once. All the sleepless nights. The rage. The desperation.

He looks different from how I last saw him. Those dark, deep-set eyes are weighted with exhaustion. He'll need a haircut soon—shadowy locks falling over his face.

But everything else is the same. The way his hands tighten when I stir, and the way he curls around me, shielding me, as my heart pounds in my chest. Just being in his presence, I'm so overjoyed that I almost wonder why I didn't get myself kidnapped sooner.

Then it comes back to me.

Kidnapped .

"Your ankle," Fang growls. "Did they do that to you?"

I tell him, It happened about a week ago. I fell.

He nods, and my body warms, relishing in the feeling of being understood again.

Are you okay ? I sign, urgently. Have you been safe ?

"I'm fine." He looks around. There are no metal bars like I remember. Just a room-full of rogues in dirty tank-tops and underwear, locked behind a hefty door. Empty shelves line the walls, as if we've been crammed into a big underground pantry. The rogues— about a dozen of them—take notice of me, watching curiously. Or maybe warily.

"Hey," one of the alphas butts in, "ask her if she knows where we are."

Fang snarls. "Give her a minute."

"A minute?" The alpha seethes. "We've been stuck down here for weeks ."

I frown. What about rec time?

Fang sighs. "He's right—none of us have seen the surface in, well … since you left."

I don't know what to say. Rec time, along with showers and regular meals, is critical. The ringleaders need us healthy. They need us alive .

Maybe this is my fault. I've spent so much time helping the RDF think of ways to corner the ringleaders—not stopping to consider how that might impact on their prisoners.

They took me off the street, I sign at last, knocked me out. I'm sorry, I have no idea where we are.

Fang relays the information to his fellow alpha. He and a few of the other rogues growl, infuriated. I'm useless to them.

"We're in a bunker," Fang tells me. "I'm guessing private property. Who it belongs to, or why the hell they're keeping us here, I have no idea. Maybe the ringleaders struck up some kind of deal with one of their clients."

So sharp, so astute—exactly the Fang I remember.

Any fights ? I ask.

"Not yet. At least …" he eyes the bunker, darkly, "nothing in the ring. Assuming there still is a ring."

What do you mean?

He goes to speak, then thinks better of it, signing back, We're all on edge. Fights have been breaking out all over the place—and it's getting worse.

My eyes widen. It's because of the estralide.

"The what?"

It's a high-powered blocker. They used to put it in the food, but I guess they haven't gotten their hands on any since the raid.

That can't be right. We're still being dosed—I can tell.

I consider this. He's right—if everyone went cold-turkey, they'd be rutting and heating all over the place. Maybe they're giving you something weaker. I shrug. Cheaper.

"Yeah, maybe." He glances around at the fussing, grumbling rogues. "But it's not quite cutting it."

God, as happy as I am to see Fang—to know he's safe—it kills me imagining what the last few weeks have been like for him. While I was making myself at home in Wilder Den, he was down here with the other rogues, suffering.

"Where have you been?" he demands. "I assumed they took you to a refuge—made sure you were safe."

They did. It was. Sort of. I take a breath. It's complicated.

"Faith." He takes my face in my hands and kisses me deeply. For a moment it's just the two of us, our lips pressed together, as we were always meant to be.

When he pulls away, my inner omega growls.

"Look at where we are." He smirks faintly. "I think I can handle ‘complicated'."

So I tell him. From the holding cells of the RDF, to moving in with Pack Wilder, to joining the investigation, all the way up to my time with Maverick. I debate how much he needs to know about the in-between stuff—specifically, my heat, and my relationship with the Wilder alphas—but it doesn't feel fair to leave out. Not fair on Fang … and not fair on Caleb, Jaxon, and Micah.

When I'm finished, Fang withdraws, his face dark with thought. "I see."

He'll need a minute to process. Probably decide just how angry he is with me.

Then, right on cue, he tells me, "I can't believe you were so stupid."

I knew this might've been coming, but still, the words sting. I quickly blink back my tears. I'm sorry, I sign. I never wanted to betray you.

"Well you did," he snaps. "You were never supposed to come back here, Faith. Do you have any idea what the ringleaders will do to you? What they're planning to do?"

I blink. Hang on … that's what you're mad about? That I got captured?

"Obviously." At my bewildered look, he rolls his eyes. "You think I give a damn that you shacked up with three other alphas?" Then, signing, he adds, Your omega needed support. You did what you had to do.

My cheeks heat. I didn't have to sleep with them …

"Obviously," Fang grits his teeth, "I don't love that part. But I'm not going to hold it against you. Especially when we've got bigger problems to deal with."

Still reeling, I sign, stubbornly, I thought you were happy to see me.

"I am," he huffs, "and I'm not. Faith— you got out . That's all I ever wanted for you."

I promised I'd come back.

"And now we're right back where we started."

I pull away, a mixture of rage and humiliation churning inside. I know the circumstances are not ideal, I sign, but I am going to save you.

"You can't save me like this. And especially—" he gestures to the cast on my ankle, "not like this."

A part of me wants to shrink into nothing, hating myself for being so careless, so na?ve, but another, stronger part refuses to give up. Knows it can't end like this.

I have faith, I sign at last.

Fang's expression falters. I see the memory flash before his eyes, fierce yet tender.

I want to trust you, he signs back. But the ringleaders are up to something, and you're at the center of it.

That's not what I'm talking about. My shoulders straighten. The Wilder alphas are coming for me. I'm sure of it.

He growls. They couldn't find us before. What makes you think they'll figure it out now?

Because. I smile. They—

I have to stop myself, realizing how close I am to telling Fang that two of the Wilder alphas have confessed their love for me.

Fang's black eyes sharpen, examining me. Maybe he senses what I won't let myself say, but I don't give him a chance to ask.

They're coming, I sign again, definitively. It's only a matter of time.

He takes a breath. Time enough for the ringleaders to have their way with you.

I smirk. Like you'd ever let that happen.

For the first time since I woke up, I sense Fang's pheromones—muted, still, but more present than before—relaxing. He puts his hand on my thigh. Purrs almost silently, just for me to hear.

"Damn straight," he says.

***

No-one comes to check on us for hours. I explain to Fang how many of the ring personnel we've already captured—it's no wonder they're stretched thin.

"It'll be lights out soon," Fang notes. Just like the old days, he seems to have no difficulty keeping track of time. "They haven't given us new mats or blankets, so a lot of people are pairing up for warmth." A few rogues shoot us sly looks, sensing us talking about them. Fang lowers his voice. "I think it helps."

I smile. Then let me help you.

I nuzzle into his chest, almost all the tension leaving my body as he wraps himself around me. The lights cut off almost exactly when Fang estimates they will, and the entire room is submerged in black.

A pang of fear grips me. Fang responds instantly, burying me deeper in his chest.

"Your scent," he whispers, "it's … lavender."

I smile. Nod.

His lips brush my temple, his kiss like butterfly wings. "It's perfect."

My inner omega preens, delighted to know my mate likes my scent.

My mate. My mate.

I've dreamed of this moment for so long—returning to Fang's arms, falling asleep in the one place I feel truly safe. He feels so strong, so warm, that I almost forget where we are. Or maybe I just don't care anymore, as long as we're together.

Naturally, as soon as I think I might finally be drifting in a deep and dreamless sleep, all hell breaks loose.

The lights flick on. The door rattles.

All the rogues spring up, instantly on alert. We squint against the harsh lights, glaring at the door as an all-too-familiar face bursts in.

Hamish.

He looks more disheveled than I've ever seen him, his shirt untucked, his grey stubble doing little to conceal his weathered features. I note with pride the scratches on his arms—courtesy of me.

"F-7," he barks, "with me."

Fang reacts before I do. He gives a nasty snarl, putting his arm in front of me.

Don't , I sign quickly. Maybe he hasn't noticed the electric baton in Hamish's hands—a favorite tool of the guards.

Fang ignores me. "What do you want with her?" he demands.

Hamish's baton gives a harsh crackle. "No-one's talking to you, D-1." His glare returns to me. "Up. Now."

My survival instincts kick in, reminding me how I lasted as long as I did in the ring. Taking orders. Keeping my head down. And winning fights.

This isn't a fight I can win, nor can Fang. It'd be stupid to try.

Standing, struggling to stay balanced on my bad ankle, I sign to Fang, It's okay. I can handle this.

I don't give a shit, Fang signs back.

"Hey." Hamish points the baton at us. "You two got something to say, you say it out loud ."

I give him a look. He does know I can't speak, doesn't he ? Axe must've shared that much.

Hamish keeps ushering me out. I limp toward the door, flinching when he waves his weapon—a warning to the other rogues to keep their distance. Fang especially.

Even still, Fang hovers behind me, inching his way closer and closer to the door. I know this is the only way I can protect him —obeying orders, like a good little rogue—but it pains me to imagine being separated again.

Hamish backs into the hall. I join him. Then, right as Fang gets close enough to follow, Hamish slams the door in his face—knocking my mate clean off his feet.

Enraged, I flash my teeth. Hamish doesn't hesitate.

Electricity shoots through me. I choke, spasming violently, my legs giving out.

"Faith!" Fang roars.

His voice fizzles out, and out, and out.

The last thing I'm aware of is Hamish's arms around me, dragging me down the hall, before the world returns to black.