Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(6)

I needed Bear. I needed Bear's bite and bond.

Make him bite and bond me. Have him on my team, fighting for me.

I burrowed into the pillows, wrapped the sheet and blanket around me, and fumbled in the air in front of me, pushing the closet door shut to protect my nest. The dark was safe and simple, the only scents mine and Bear's.

Safe. Home. Alpha.





3. CHANCE





I kept to the back of club meetings.

As much as King liked to pretend that designation didn't affect the club, there were still only four of us betas who'd been sworn into the crew, and over a dozen alphas. I understood the precedent at the table, and I didn't need to humiliate myself by having an alpha boot me from his seat by will alone.

King sat at the head of the table, of course. There was an empty seat to his right for our enforcer, Bear, who was running late to church. At King's left, Ghost sank back into his chair, our road captain displaying the easy, confident, borderline lazy facade he liked to show off to the rest of the crew.

Across from King, balancing the table, was the VP Rider. My brother.

Before I'd sworn in to the Dead End Devils, Rider's seat had been where Bear's was now. King said he liked having Rider across from him, making their command over the club complete. But I suspected our prez really preferred keeping his eye on his closest ally and biggest rival. Rider and I were legacy in this club, our dad having been one of the founding members. And while old man Proof may not have ever found himself a seat of honor at the table, he'd had high ambitions for his son.

His alpha son.

So high, he'd got it into Rider's head that he was meant to be prez.

Somehow, both my brother and I ended up with chips on our shoulders.

"You're telling us there was no fucking cargo?" Skid asked, as the door to the room opened and Bear strode in like we weren't supposed to notice that he was a full twenty minutes late.

If Bear had become King's true right-hand, Skid was Rider's. If the skinny, sarcastic alpha was asking a dumb question at our church meeting, it was Rider who'd fed it to him.

"I'm telling you it's not cargo we can make use of," King said, raising his hands and feigning some of that casually calm air Ghost often wore. "There's no profit. No gain. Better rid of it. I promise you that."

Bear's chair screeched against the linoleum flooring, and King flashed him a glare but the bigger man kept his head ducked. I'd seen the damage Bear could do to not just one but a pile of men. If I hadn't, I would've assumed King had given him the position of enforcer just for show. But Bear could back up every inch of his enormous frame with physical power.

"Do we think it was a dummy van? That we lost the real score?" another alpha asked.

King and Rider held eyes across the table. King had filled Rider in on what happened, on what–or rather, who–we'd found.

"Could be," King said.

I watched my older brother's eyes narrow briefly. My position at the back of the room with the other betas gave me an advantage too, even in its veiled insult. Because it wasn't only Rider who'd found a position in this club. Mine just wasn't one I could flaunt. Spies rarely gain glory for their work.

King was a paranoid motherfucker, and my brother was restless. And I knew which of the two I would follow into battle. I'd sworn my vows to King; being under Rider's thumb too was an unfortunate side effect.

Sometimes, blood did run thinner than water. Or cheap beer around these parts.

"Cleanup went smoothly," Rider said, running fingers back through thick sandy brown hair to where it was pulled into a tail at the back of his neck. "And it's not as though the Wasted would be surprised to find us breathing down their throats. Bit of unnecessary effort on our parts at the worst of it."

King dipped his head in acknowledgement. "And it's not as though we're about to stop keeping tabs on them. They're bold enough to run through our territory, we'll catch them again."

"And next time, maybe there'll be profit to it," Ghost chimed in, all sarcasm and cheer. King dutifully rolled his eyes as the rest of the table groaned or laughed or muttered their own frustration under their breath.

Skid glanced to Rider, who shrugged without returning the look. They weren't going to fight King further in the meeting. But Rider knew about the girl—knowledge that would be better used as pot-stirring bullshit in private. Only to the right club members. Not everyone would take issue with King's decision, either on the profit or pleasure side. Rider and Skid had their loud-mouth cronies, but in general, the club was made up of rough but decent men.

But I knew, and King knew, and sure as hell Rider knew, that there were a few of our brothers who wouldn't have minded a free chance at an omega.

I hoped for her sake Bear was late because he'd already gotten her well away from here.

"Girls have got dinner ready for you lot and put the good kegs on ice," King said, offering a dry smile to the stirring conversation. "Enjoy the night, brothers. Church is adjourned."

Chairs cried out their complaints as the alphas hurried out, wrestling at the door to be the first to get to a plate of food or a chilled mug of beer. Or, more likely, one of the club girls. King had called them all in for the night, eager to sate appetites and keep his men too busy and relaxed to ask questions.