Sage reached out and touched Marek’s shoulder. “Let’s go. You need to relax for the rest of the weekend.”
“Aw, no. We’ll call Victoria. She’s gotta heal this. Your birthday party is tomorrow.”
“We can have it another weekend.”
Emma relinquished her spot beside Marek to Sage. Leon and Sage walked Marek a few cars down to his Maserati. Emma stayed put, a tiny, practically impenetrable wall between Patrick and her pack.
“What do you want?” Patrick asked tiredly.
Emma pursed her lips. “What’s really going on? And don’t give me some bullshit classified answer, Patrick. This isn’t the military. This is New York City. It’s ourhome. So tell me the truth.”
Emma was a force to be reckoned with. All stubborn fierceness, ready to attack any threat aimed at those she claimed as hers. Emmacared. In Patrick’s experience, that was always dangerous.
Patrick grimaced. “The truth is I can’t tell you. I can’t, Emma. But I need you to know I’m doing everything I can to make sure what I think is going to happen won’t.”
“By partnering with Lucien?”
“By using whatever methods I have to, no matter how illegal they are, to make sure this city is still standing at the end. I promised Casale that. I’ll promise you the same thing.”
“And if you break that promise?”
“Then it won’t matter, because we’ll all be dead.”
Emma stared at him for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. She ran a hand through her thick black hair, messing up some of the loose curls she had it styled in. “Youssef and Estelle don’t want us to have any contact with you.”
“Okay? And?”
“You kept Marek safe,” she said quietly. “He’s mine and Leon’s best friend, the only family we have left after we got bitten. You didn’t think twice about throwing yourself between him and that demon the other night. You didn’t hesitate. I know a lot of people who would have.”
“Youssef and Estelle, to name a few,” Jono said, sounding irritated.
Emma didn’t protest that accusation. Patrick wondered just how many cracks existed in the werecreature community here that Jono could say that and Emma wouldn’t come to the god pack’s defense in the face of a rival god pack alpha.
“You don’t owe me this, Emma,” Patrick told her.
“This isn’t a debt,” she said. “This isn’t anything like whatever those immortals are holding over your head to get you to do their bidding. I’m offering because it’s the right thing to do. Because Marek is in deep already, and I’m not letting both of you drown in the problems that keep coming our way, no matter what Youssef and Estelle say. That’s what pack does, Patrick. That’s what packis.”
The fierceness in her words had Patrick wishing he could believe what she offered came with no strings attached. But he knew nothing in life was free.
“I’m not pack,” he reminded her.
Emma glanced over at Jono. “I have a feeling that might be changing. Give me your phone number.”
Out of everything she could have asked for, it was the easiest thing to give up. They swapped phone numbers, and then Emma gave him an apologetic look. “I’d offer you a ride, but we’re out of seats.”
“I’ll call an Uber. Don’t worry about us. Just get Marek home behind that barrier ward.”
“Emma always worries. Right mother hen, is this one,” Jono said. His words came out fond though, and Emma beamed at him.
Jono wrapped Emma up in a strong hug. She snaked her hand over his neck, discreetly scent-marking him when they parted ways. The pack scent would fade within hours, and no one would know she’d done it, because Jono wasn’t going to be around other werecreatures for the rest of the night.
He gave Emma a crooked smile, and Patrick thought about what Jono had said in the café the other morning. How he’d left London without ever having a pack and been denied a chance at one here in New York City. How it looked as if Emma was more than willing to follow his orders instead of submitting to a god pack she didn’t trust.
Patrick wondered how many other packs in the five boroughs were in her same predicament.
Emma waved goodbye and hurried down the pavement for Marek’s car. He and Jono watched her get in and waited until they’d driven off before Patrick unlocked his phone to call an Uber.
The sooner he got to the apartment, the less he’d feel as if he had a target on his back in the shape of Lucien’s fangs.
