“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Jonothon. New York City was never going to be yours, and it won’t be. If you want Patrick back alive, you’ll give up all the territory you stole and leave the five boroughs behind.”
Jono barked out a harsh laugh, wishing he had her neck between his hands and not the steering wheel. “How thick do you think I am? You’ve got a demon riding your soul. A Great Marquis of Hell at that. No way is he giving up Patrick in a bargain you’re offering when you lot are making deals with the Dominion Sect. I challenged you to a fight, and we’re going to have it.”
“Is this really how you want to die?”
“You can fight me in the challenge ring, or I’ll bring this war to your doorstep, and you won’t survive that.”
She wasn’t going to survive to see tomorrow, but he doubted she’d believe it.
“You wouldn’t be able to get past the threshold if I ordered it to keep you out.”
“I’m the god pack alpha of New York City. That damned threshold will never keep me out.”
She was quiet for two seconds, the pause negligible in most conversations, but Jono took it as a win. “I’ve held this territory for years, and I won’t let an upstart like you take it from me.”
“Then accept my challenge or forfeit your rank right now.”
“You’ll never see Patrick again if you persist with this.”
“Bollocks. I’ll find him, or he’ll come back to me.”
Whether across the country or through a hell, Jono would go where Patrick was or die trying, and knew his pack would be right beside him.
“I won’t have you set foot inmyterritory,” Estelle hissed.
“Then I’ll meet you in Central Park, in the Great Lawn at sunset, with all the pack alphas present as required by pack law. Consider it a neutral challenge ring, and when I tear out your throat, even Andras won’t be able to save you.”
“Beforesunset. Do you really think I’ll let you lean into your alliance with the Night Courts?”
“After what happened in Brooklyn, do you really think they’re all the help I have to rely on?”
“Then bring your ghosts, and I’ll bring my demons, and I’ll break you like I have countless sinners since I fell,” Andras bit out through Estelle’s voice, giving up the pretense that she was even marginally in control.
Fenrir bit at his mind, but Jono held him back, keeping his voice steady when all he wanted to do was scream at the position they were in. “You couldn’t do it in London. What makes you think you’ll do it here?”
“You haven’t seen the horror I can create, but you will, wolf. You will.”
Andras’ demonic voice abruptly disappeared as the demon ended the call. Jono drew in a deep breath, trying to sort out his racing thoughts, almost too warm from rage.
“Demon of discord,” Sage said after a moment. “We can’t trust what he’ll say the same way we could never trust Estelle.”
“I know,” Jono ground out.
“Can you find Patrick yet?”
Jono shook his head jerkily, the soulbond quiet and leading to nothing beyond his soul. “No.”
“He could be anywhere,” Wade said dully.
Jono wanted to close his eyes, wanted to hit something, but he was driving, and he had his god pack and all the others who were counting on him. “I know.”
One thing at a time.
They finally made it to Ginnungagap, and Jono pulled into the side alley to park, killing the engine. Lucien’s motorcycle was parked by the door, proof he’d come.
“Here,” Wade said, passing him the spell book once they were out of the car.
Jono took it, fingers sliding over the skin-covered binding, hating how it felt and how it smelled. The door to Ginnungagap was unlocked, and Jono opened it, ignoring how what lived in the walls crackled at the edges of his awareness, Fenrir wallowing in it.
