They wanted him to destroy what was left of his past.
Hera reached for him, and Patrick made himself not flinch away. Strong fingers gripped his chin and forced Patrick to meet her eyes. The power he could see burning inside her nearly blinded him and made his eyes water.
“The Dominion Sect has hidden my husband from me, but I know he is still here, on this island. The murders are bound to Manhattan, and the island sits above the nexus. Ethan can do nothing without the nexus. It must be contained, so find a way to contain it and bring Zeus back to me.”
Her touch burned, and Patrick couldn’t move.
“Please don’t hurt him, lady.”
Jono’s voice dropped between them like a rock, his hand settling on Patrick’s shoulder with a heavy touch that anchored him. Patrick blinked, half-blinded from Hera’s aura, colored spots dancing across his eyes.
Hera’s perfectly manicured fingernails dug into his skin for another second or two before her touch eased off. She didn’t let go, slanting a look up at where Jono now stood beside Patrick’s chair.
“Wolf,” she said warningly. “He does not belong to you.”
“Think my Fates might argue that.”
Patrick’s vision cleared in time for him to see the calculating look that settled in Hera’s eyes. “Ah. You are not of the god pack here.”
“I’m not with any bloody pack.” Jono’s hand tightened on Patrick’s shoulder, offering silent support. “But Patrick is mine and I’m his until this case is finished. That’s what the Fates decreed if you want your husband back. Patrick can’t do what needs to be done if you harm him.”
Hera studied Jono with eyes that had lived through centuries, taking his measure. Patrick wanted to tell Jono toshut up, but Hera still had control of his mouth.
“Patrick hasn’t done what needs to be done for years,” Hera countered.
“He came when you called. That has to count for something, yeah?”
She let him go.
Patrick resisted the urge to rub his jaw because showing any kind of weakness in front of the gods was like giving up secrets one couldn’t afford to lose. He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth and sat up straighter.
Jono never let go of him.
It felt as if it could become a habit, one Patrick wouldn’t mind allowing.
Patrick cleared his throat. “Tell me how they took Zeus?”
“I’ve already discussed everything with the police,” Hera said.
“I’m not the police. So humor me.” Patrick paused before belatedly tacking on a quick “Please.”
He’d read the missing person report back at the PCB, but he wanted to hear it from Hera himself. If she’d held anything back from the police, she might give up the information to him.
Hera leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the knees, the brightness of her aura dimming to something easier on the eyes. “He had a dinner meeting with a new client. He never came home. When I sent some of my followers to the restaurant, they found traces of magic and were told they had no reservation under the client’s name.”
“What name? That wasn’t in the records I went through.”
“Does it matter? The name was falsely given.”
Patrick would have pressed for the name—it was still evidence in a way—but Hera didn’t seem as if she cared to pass it along. She’d made up her mind it was useless, and there was no changing the mind of a goddess, especially not this one.
“You have your orders,” Hera told him, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.
Hermes put down his fork and took a swig of orange juice before getting to his feet. “I’ll walk them out.”
Jono let his hand fall away as Patrick stood up and marched toward the rooftop terrace doors. Hermes overtook them easily, leading the way through the mansion to the ground floor and back outside. Once they crossed the threshold, Patrick took a deep breath, the weight on his chest lifting.
“That went rather well,” Hermes said.
