Page 96 of Worshiping Faith

Dax

She’s fucking amazing.

Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hesitate. Just moves like she belongs here, like she owns every inch of this ship already.

Faith doesn’t even look at Irish, doesn’t ask why he’s at my side. Just trusts that I’ve got it handled. That’s a dangerous level of faith in a man, but she ain’t wrong.

When it comes to her, I always have it handled.

The corridor tightens as we near our rooms, and I clock two of Irish’s crew at the door before we even get close.

Good.

Irish didn’t ask why Jinx was a priority. Didn’t need to. He sure as shit didn’t ask why Faith was either. That’s a given.

Nothing’s getting in that room. Not with those two parked here and Wilkes inside.

Faith doesn’t even slow as she steps between them, like they’re just part of the furniture. She’s locked in. Focused.

Jinx.

Wilkes is already in the hall, arms crossed, gaze flicking between me and Irish. He stiffens the second we step closer.

Yeah. We’ll need to clear this up.

I only had time to tell Zachs about Irish and Mason before shit started rolling, and I have no doubt when Zachs relayed the need to make space for Mason, he didn’t bother to explain the reasoning.

Asshole.

Doesn’t mean I don’t get it.

Watching any of these bastards move around Faith stings. Watching Zachs’ hands on her waist?

That was a bit much.

Wanted to break every single one of his fingers. And I like the little psycho prick.

Faith disappears into Jinx’s room, Wilkes a step behind her.

I take a second to scan the setup. The room directly across from hers is Mason’s now. A few boxes. Not much. Doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to hoard sentimental shit.

An extra rifle leans against the wall.

Good.

We’ve got her boxed in. Sides, front. Covered.

But Irish?

Different story. Inner circle, but not this layer. Not a chance in hell. This truce holds as long as it has to, but one day, one wrong step, one bad fucking second, one of us is gonna snap.

Not today.

“I’ll be back.” My voice carries just enough for Wilkes and Faith to hear before I turn, Irish matching my stride as we move down the next hall.

I stop.

“This whole hall is yours,” I say, motioning down the stretch of identical doors. “You and your crew. We’re the only ones in this section.”

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