Chapter Eight

Faith

We leave a little before sunset. I'm surprised by how badly my eyes sting—still getting used to honest-to-goodness daylight.

"Shit," the younger alpha says. Jaxon. His bronze is nearly as long as mine, but he's tied it back into a half-bun, exposing a single cuff in his ear. "Are you alright?"

I must be tearing up. Damn retinas are on fire.

Jaxon leans in, making me bare my teeth, and he promptly backs off.

He and Caleb guide me to the car. Someone reminds me to strap myself in. I feel like a ghost in my own body, slowly remembering what it was like to exist in the real world.

"Our den is a little south of the city," Caleb explains from behind the wheel.

"Micah's making dinner," Jaxon adds. "Think he's excited to meet you."

I scowl. Who the fuck is Micah ?

"Sorry. That's our other packmate—there are three of us altogether." He grins. "Can you guess who's head alpha?"

My eyes flick to the driver's seat. Does he think I'm stupid ?

Jaxon laughs. "Bingo. Caleb's about as head alpha as they come, huh?"

Caleb chuffs. "I'll take that as a compliment."

They're joking around, or trying to, but I can sense the underlying tension. Even if the Rogue Defense Force are nothing more than glorified cops, these two aren't stupid. They know they have to keep their guards up around me.

I try to map the streets as I go. New Caniss isn't quite what I remember from before my time in the arena. It's … too big, somehow. And yet choked with people. Cars. Buildings. My senses are on overload.

"Here we are."

Caleb pulls into a sheltered parking lot. As we descend beneath the concrete roof, my head fills with static.

No. Not again.

I rip my seatbelt off. The car door handle won't budge, no matter how hard I yank at it. Window . I'll just have to smash the—

"Omega! Hey, Faith, it's alright. We've stopped. We've stopped."

Something moves in my peripheral vision. Reaching. Getting closer.

"Don't touch her." I recognize Caleb's voice. "Just give it a minute."

Bit by bit, reality comes back into focus. We're parked halfway down the drive, and both alphas are staring at me. A warm, woody aroma rolls over the car, mixed in with something sweet. Chocolate?

Alphas' scents , my inner omega purrs.

Jaxon gets the door for me. I pointedly ignore his hand, gritting my teeth as I put weight on my bad ankle.

It takes a few minutes for Caleb to park, during which time I scan the premises—an old apartment complex slathered in exposed brick, roughly ten stories high. The foyer is at the top of the driveway, the sliding glass door locked with a passkey.

Simple, but secure.

"We've got the penthouse," Jaxon informs me proudly. "Top floor."

I should be glad. The top floor of anything has got be better than being stuck underground, right? But for some reason my gut twists, my inner omega throwing her guard up once more.

Reminding me I very well may be trading one prison for another.

***

A lean alpha with white-blond hair and glowing amber eyes meets me in the doorway. "Hi there. It's a pleasure."

I'll bet, I almost sign.

Caleb puts his bag down. "Faith, meet Micah. Micah—" his gaze lingers. "This is Faith. The omega I was telling you about."

Micah smiles. He has a nervous air about him, though whether that's because he's scared of me, or scared of scaring me, I'm not sure. "Maybe I could show you around?"

Almost automatically, I sneak a glance at Caleb. He nods encouragingly.

Micah walks me through the den—Wilder Den, he keeps calling it. It's an open-floor layout, so each space kind of bleeds into the next. The wooden floorboards and brick walls give everything a uniquely rustic look. Cozy, too.

"I'm home most days," Micah explains, "so I try to keep the place tidy."

I shift my gaze to the east-facing wall—though it's more window than wall.

"Ah." He laughs. "Don't worry. The way the building is facing, no-one can see in."

Actually, I was thinking about just how much light this place gets. My inner omega delights at the thought.

"Everything okay?"

I snap back to Micah. He puts his hands up, realizing he's standing too close.

"Sorry about that." He considers for a moment before turning to his packmates. "Did you guys pick up the stuff I asked for?"

"Oh, right!" Jaxon darts off, returning with an A3 notepad and marker. "Here you go."

He hands the items to Micah, who in turn offers them to me. "I, uh—Caleb mentioned your condition. Since none of us know sign language just yet, I thought this might be the easiest way to communicate."

Is this a test ? If I accept the notepad, and my hands are full, will the Wilder alphas see their chance to pin me down?

"Here." Micah uncaps the marker and writes something down. He flashes me the page: THIRSTY ?

I shake my head, but when Micah hands me the notebook again, I gingerly accept.

"Keep that on you," Caleb chimes in. "Anything you need, just write it down. We're here to help."

Help what, exactly? Rehabilitate me? Domesticate me?

Good fucking luck.

Wilder Den is nothing more than a pit stop. Somewhere for me to sleep, eat, and plan my next move. I don't care what debt the Rogue Defense Force thinks I owe them—anyone who rescues me, and leaves my mate to rot, can go to hell.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour," Micah tells me. "I've already run you a bath, if you like."

Caleb hums approvingly. "Is her room set up?"

I stop. My room ?

"Yup. Go ahead."

I don't know if he's speaking to me or Caleb, but either way, I don't move until they do, following them through to the adjoining room.

They're being so kind, the more temperate part of me reasons.

And they smell good , my omega puts in.

I shove both voices down. It doesn't matter how nice Pack Wilder is, or what they smell like.

Because I will succeed where they failed.

Even if it's the last thing I do.