Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(72)
I wasn't sure what I could find out hours later, but I had a bad feeling about the news. King had a plant named Gizmo, an old drunk MC dropout who lived on the edge of the Wasted territory and was willing to let King pay for his habits in exchange for the supply of information. Generally, Gizmo was an unreliable witness, especially to specific details, but I doubted he was likely to be left confused on something as dramatic as a black ops raid.
Black ops sounded about right for the kind of operation Faith had described Omikron as—highly connected, exceptional resources, military-like efficiency. Except what was Omikron doing raiding the Wasted? Even those fuckers couldn't have been so stupid to have messed with an organization like that.
Unless they’d decided Omikron was to blame for them not receiving Faith.
If that was true, the Wasted might manage to eliminate themselves before they became a bigger problem for King.
The sight of the Wasted's warehouse compound didn't promise such an easy out. I'd found an old abandoned general store with a ladder up to the roof and a clear view, and I crouched at the ledge facing the Wasted, peering through binoculars. The only evidence I found of any kind of raid was a busted window at the front. There'd be no way to tell any real damage unless I got inside or Gizmo sent us pictures, but I wasn't gonna push the old man to take that kind of risk.
Maybe something had happened and Gizmo had exaggerated. Maybe there was a new fucking gang coming our way and they’d decided to tackle the easy pickings of the Wasted first.
A few men rounded the side of the building into my view, and I fought my own grin. Bruised faces and busted lips, one arm in a sling.
I didn't know what exactly had happened to the Wasted last night and what consequences might ripple in our direction, but I knew that it was satisfying to see those little shits beat up.
I watched for a while longer, just enough to see there was a chaotic and panicked energy from the club, before packing away my binoculars and heading back toward the ladder. I had one more errand to run before I headed home, but I was already itching to get my hands on Faith again. The sooner I knew my little Butterfly was safe and surrounded by us—her old men or her pack, whatever the fuck King wanted to pretend we were—the better.
I found Faith and Chance at the laundromat next door to the club, after a bit of frantic searching and a clue from one of the club girls. My heart rate slowed back down as Faith beamed at me, curled up on Chance's lap on the bench, a bunch of food wrappers and to-go cups at their side.
She was a whole new girl. With a haircut? When the hell had that happened? I didn't care; it was just one little difference of the myriad that had come since we'd found her. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin was clear and bright, and fuck me if she wasn't getting sexier every day. Happier. More at ease.
She knocked her head against Chance's as he whispered something in her ear, and her hair slid back over her shoulder, revealing the oval-shaped growing bruise on her throat. I stopped dead in my tracks, nearly dropping the shopping bag in my hand, and a brief, startled growl rose up from my throat.
Faith and Chance both stiffened, their eyes turning back to me as I swallowed the sound and glared at the mark. Chance's arms were wrapped around her, crossed over her stomach. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he glared right back at me, daring me to object. I didn't want to object. I wanted to dive forward and sink my teeth into that bruise. I knew it wasn't a real mating mark, but it had the intention of one and I—I—I fucking wanted it to be mine.
"King see that yet?" I asked.
"No," Chance said, arms tightening around Faith, her hand stroking over his forearms to soothe him. "But…others did, so he'll probably hear about it sooner or later."
My mouth twisted, teeth aching.
Chance's chin lifted. "I'm not apologizing."
"You better fucking not," Faith said.
My smile cracked as Chance nuzzled his cheek against Faith's shoulder. Betas didn't have much scent to mark, but Faith painted her perfume over Chance like she was trying to disguise him as an omega, and they touched enough that I occasionally caught whiffs of him on her. I definitely did today.
"I'm not mad. I'm jealous," I admitted, and it made the simmering possessiveness in me calm a fraction. Faith's gaze slid to mine, and I held it with my own until she nodded slightly.
I hadn't bitten her yet, although there was no longer any doubt in my mind that I would. The trick of it was when. Was I waiting for my sake, or King's? I stroked the bite she'd given me on my hand, searching for that delicate thread between us, finding the echo of understanding from her. We'd talk about it later.
"How was work?" Faith asked.
The laundromat was empty aside from the three of us, and the air conditioner was running high. The space smelled clean and sterile, probably a relief for Faith now that the clubhouse had refilled with alpha pheromones. Every so often, some of the guys would send the girls who hung around the club out with all of our laundry, but otherwise the laundromat tended to be pretty quiet. There weren't enough locals in Dead End aside from the club to fill it up. I wasn't sure if Faith had met any of the girls yet—or how that meeting would go, given her circumstances—but at least this place was private, somewhere for her to retreat to in the meantime.
I groaned, passing the snuggled pair and dropping the shopping bag onto the large counters meant for folding and laundry baskets, before pulling myself up and lying flat on the surface. "Mostly easy. Got some news we need to cover with King in a minute."