Page 50 of Worshiping Faith

I can’t leave all those armed cons in the yard unsupervised.

I can’t leave her alone with Jinx if he’s out of his cell.

And she can’t treat him properly if he’s locked up.

Fucking hell.

The block is locked.

Faith locked it behind her after escaping, to keep Jinx safe.

Smart woman.

Bad fucking timing.

I need to be out there before everything goes to shit.

I’ve got to get to Dax, tell him what the hell is going on.

I need to be here in case this gets worse.

So there only needs to be three of me.

No problem.

I lock us in. I can’t stay.

I stop at the guard room and grab cuffs. Not a perfect plan, but none of my plans are.

Quince’s voice slithers out of the darkness. “Traitor,” he sneers as we pass. “Fucking whore finally moved on to guards?”

That son of a bitch is lucky I don’t have half a second to choke him.

Faith doesn’t even flinch. Not even a twitch.

I keep moving.

When we reach Jinx’s cell, I take in the scene. Blanket. Snack wrappers, scattered like they’d been having a fucking picnic.

Not exactly how I’d run an interrogation. Maybe I should grab a quilt and a basket next time.

“Up, Jinx,” I snap.

Faith’s head jerks toward me, her eyes flashing in that way that means trouble. “He is not a prisoner. You mind your tone, Wilkes.”

Jinx flinches at her voice. Quicker than mine.

Damn.

Picnic basket. Got it.

“I can’t stay,” I start, but Faith doesn’t even look my way.

“I don’t need you. Go,” she says, already dismissing me.

Doesn’t even ask me for the key to his cell.

Because she’s already got one, I realize.