“Mortal laws do not apply to me.”
“But they apply to your subordinates,” Sage spoke up. “Of which Tremaine is one of them. And a warrant isn’t granted without proof.”
“Your proof won’t be alive for much longer,” Tremaine promised.
Patrick chose to have faith in Jono because not believing the other man would survive and keep Wade safe wasn’t an option. “You’d be surprised what people do when cornered.”
Tezcatlipoca smiled, the expression inhuman. “I look forward to seeing how you react.”
The immortal raised a hand, and Tremaine obeyed like the well-strung puppet he was. The master vampire turned to one of his subordinates and said, “Bring her.”
Patrick tensed at that order. Beside him, Sage went rigid. Einar cocked his head to the side, listening hard to something Patrick couldn’t hear.
Tezcatlipoca stood, the jaguar pacing beside him as he walked toward where Patrick stood. Every step of his obsidian foot against marble rang sharply in the air. Patrick didn’t hesitate to unsheathe his dagger, heavenly fire crawling over the matte black blade as he held it tightly.
“I heard you were gifted the power of gods. It will not help you tonight,” Tezcatlipoca said.
Patrick raised the dagger between them, the sharp tip pointed at Tezcatlipoca’s heart. “It helps enough.”
“Such misplaced faith you carry.”
Sage drew in a sharp breath, and Patrick knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. Sage, with her enhanced hearing, probably heard every single sound before they got close enough to reach Patrick’s ears. She stood her ground despite the expression on her face that spoke of wanting to take people apart from the skin on down. The bleak, furious look in her eyes caught Tezcatlipoca’s attention.
“Daughter, you do yourself a disservice by aligning yourself with this one,” Tezcatlipoca said.
“You are not of my people,” Sage spat out. “Don’t call medaughter.”
Beneath her snarled words was the distant sound of screaming—thin and thready, full of agonizing pain.
It didn’t sound human.
Sage closed her eyes, swallowing hard. Patrick stepped closer to her, not letting his dagger drop. Screams encroached on the silence as proof of everything Estelle and Youssef had perpetuated against their own people came into the light, dragged between two vampires.
Sage made a wounded noise and covered her mouth with her hand. Patrick forced himself to look—to see what had been done to the captive—because he needed to know how much blood to ask for in return.
The werelion looked like they had been skinned alive, one bite at a time. Most of their fur was gone, with stakes of pure silver coated in aconite pierced through each paw so they couldn’t run. The vampires dropped the werelion on the floor next to Tremaine. The werelion lay there listlessly, swollen tongue lolling out of a mouth full of too many broken teeth. Patrick saw more bone in her tail than muscle. Ribs glistened through pus and blood and rotten flesh with every strained breath the werelion took.
“Do you recognize them?” Patrick asked Sage.
It took Sage a moment to regain her composure, her hands balling into fists before she spoke. “Kennedy.”
Tremaine grabbed one torn ear and lifted Kennedy’s head off the ground. He shook her, hard enough to almost snap her neck, before letting go. The sound her jaw made against the floor made Patrick grind his teeth together.
“Something tells me you’ve missed her.” Tremaine’s smile was nothing but sharp fangs. “You can have her back, but one of you must stay.”
“We didn’t come here to negotiate,” Patrick said.
Tezcatlipoca raised an eyebrow, his tone mocking when he said, “Didn’t you?”
Patrick had little doubt their offer was a load of bullshit. Kennedy was living proof of their crimes, and they wouldn’t let her go without believing they could eliminate the evidence—allthe evidence.
And that was something Patrick could never allow.
He readjusted his grip on the dagger and turned to offer it to Sage. She stared at him, gaze going bleak, somehow knowing exactly what it meant. “No.”
“Yes,” Patrick told her quietly. “I need you to trust me.”
He was used to playing games the gods dictated, but Sage wasn’t. Her weretiger form wouldn’t be enough to keep her safe once she left his side. His dagger might be. At the end of the day, Sage was his responsibility, pack or otherwise.
