Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(127)

I answered Bear as I searched behind the hill. Skid's bike was gone too, asshole, which meant I needed to hoof it around to the others.

Western and southern posts cleared. Where the fuck is Skid?

I marched down the ditch, grimacing at the obvious waste left behind by the Wasted's parties.

Thought you just said south post was cleared, Bear texted back.

He did his shit and is MIA.

Bear responded to me with a dorky monocle emoji, and I rolled my eyes. He was as cutesy as Faith sometimes.

King's impatient. Better run our way, Bear added.

Nothing like running in motorcycle boots in the middle of the desert. But I also didn't want to get hit by a flying piece of Wasted ass in the explosion, so I picked up my heels and ran down the ditch to where it met the road.

Ghost pulled up on his bike, rare tension on his face.

"No sign of Skid," Ghost said as I jumped on behind him, ignoring the indignity of not having my own bike for the moment. "We're heading back to King."

"No, take me to Rider. I wanna know where that fucking asshole slunk off to," I said.

Ghost didn't argue with me, just revved his engine and turned back up the road.

The ground rumbled before we heard the boom, but neither Ghost nor I flinched at the early explosion. The smoke rose at my right, and I understood that the satisfaction in my chest was twisted and dark, but I had no regrets. Faith would be safe.

"I hope the others get down there to clean it up," Ghost shouted over his shoulder.

"Don't think Eve will miss the chance," I answered, leaning with Ghost as we turned a sudden corner and screeched to a stop.

Half the club was gathered there and my brother stood over his bike, ready to ride away. Our work was done. My own bike was there, not far, but I scanned the crowd.

No fucking Skid.

I swung my leg over the back of Ghost's bike as engines started to rev, ignoring my bike as I marched to Rider. The fire was roaring blocks away, a gray plume building in the sky. It would be called in soon.

"We need to go," Rider said to me, frowning.

"Where's Skid?" I barked back.

Rider's scowl dug deeper, but he glanced around him.

"He wasn't waiting for the signal, and he didn't wait for me down the hill," I said.

Rider shook his head. "News to me. Maybe he spooked and ran home. Maybe he's with King and the others."

"He's not, Rider! I fucking checked. Where is your goddamn cronie—" My voice choked off as my heart seized in a sudden flare of terror.

Behind me Ghost yelped. "Chance! Something's fucking—"

"Faith," I gasped, clutching my own chest. It wasn't pain; it was animal terror and jagged confusion.

Rider's eyes widened, looking between Ghost and me, the whole fucking club watching as I had a panic attack blooming from inside of me like an atom bomb.

Faith was terrified. My omega was in trouble.

"We have to go," Ghost roared.

I spun to my own bike, ready to follow, instinct imperative. I had to get back to Faith! The dread worsened, grew into anger, and my phone vibrated in my clenched palm.

"What the fuck is happening," I rasped.

"On our way," Bear snarled over the line. "Don't move. She and Adam are at the club. We have guys there."

But we weren't there, and we were her pack. She needed us, not Grim and Wave and the fucking others.

Except I was frozen, Faith's terror too strong and my own head too jumbled to do anything but process the racing demand of the bond.

"What's happening at the club?" Rider asked.

I shook my head. "Don't know, just…she's frightened."

She was going feral again, and it was getting worse by the second. Ghost growled at my back.

"Chance, I need to go—" Ghost growled.

The Jeep barreled around the corner, followed by the last of the club. Jamie was grim behind the driver's seat, Garrett and Rory braced in the back. And Eve…she was blood-splattered and vivid with anger, a live wire in the passenger seat.

"Sugar, you stay right there," she snapped, glaring at the face of her phone.

Adam's voice was tinny, and I ran forward to the side of the Jeep, searching for a glimpse of Faith in the background.

"I can't. I have the tracker and she doesn't."

"I don't care—"

"But I do!" Adam snapped. He was pale on the bouncing screen, running across the yard. "Grim and I are following her. You follow me. I am not losing her to Omikron again."

"You are such fucking trouble," Eve growled. "Do not get killed!"

"Yes, alpha," Adam said, and I caught a flash of Grim in the camera, the sound of an engine revving.

Omikron had Faith. I looked up, searching blindly around me for a moment, and found King at my side, pale and vibrating with a growl.

On the phone, a voice murmured and Adam glared off-camera before shaking. The view rattled, the garage briefly visible, and then Grim appeared, one side of his face wounded.

"Wave and Mikey are dead. By fucking Skid," Grim said, baring bloodied teeth. "I dealt with him myself. Frost is injured, can't ride, but he's stable. I won't lose your girl, King. Promise."

Skid. Skid. He'd set up the lab to blow—because whatever he wanted now, whatever he was doing, he was clearing the Wasted out of the way too—and then run back to the club.