Patrick dragged a hand over his face and squared his shoulders, ready to do what needed to be done, as always. “Let’s go find Casale. Maybe Sage should call our crisis PR company.”
“I can think of several statements we can put out,” Sage said, flicking blood off her fingertips.
“I’ll let you handle that,” Jono said as they started to walk toward the direction they’d arrived in at the beginning of the challenge, Ginnungagap fading around them.
Sage took up position on his right, while Wade glued himself to Patrick’s left side. Jono didn’t let go of Patrick as they walked, presenting a united front to the other pack alphas gathered around. Some of those alphas would stay behind to ensure the bodies of their fallen would be treated with respect by first responders.
It wasn’t the most auspicious start to their rule of the werecreature community in New York City, but power like that never transferred easily. Jono knew they’d rule better than Estelle and Youssef ever could though. He’d regret the blood spilled and lives lost, but not what it brought them.
A chance to breathe.
30
GettingJono through security in the SOA field office Monday morning took a little more time than Patrick thought it should. He could feel the stares of everyone passing through the lobby, and even if he couldn’t hear the whispers, Jono could.
Jono was doing a better job at ignoring the attention than Patrick. He’d left his sunglasses in the car, refusing to hide his eyes anymore in public. He’d dressed in a nice button-down and dark jeans. Meanwhile, Patrick’s T-shirt could’ve done with a tumble in the dryer, and the to-go coffee cup in his hand was as much a crutch as his dagger right then.
He had his phone back, delivered by Danai on Sunday morning when they’d been holed up in their flat. She’d retrieved it from Preston with a police escort out of the PCB just in case. US Attorney Mia Santiago was still hospitalized and recovering from an unwilling demonic possession. From what she’d said, everyone in the US Attorney’s Office was undergoing a review of their souls before a cleansing.
Whether or not the government unearthed any other demons or ties to the Dominion Sect, it still cast a bad light on the actions leading up to the decision to charge him. Danai had said that was in their favor, but Patrick was hard-pressed to see the good in that.
He and his pack had spent Sunday in long interviews with the PCB and the SOA, giving testimony for the various cases coming out of the aftermath of the challenge. Every member of Estelle’s god pack who hadn’t died were currently locked up in jail awaiting charges if appropriate. If they managed to get set free, they had Jono and Fenrir’s judgment to look forward to.
Jono and Patrick had taken pains to claim the Hamilton Heights property as their territory because that was what was expected of them. They wanted absolutely nothing to do with the property Estelle and Youssef had called home, even though it was legally theirs.
Sage was working with her firm to get in touch with the attorney who’d been employed by Estelle’s god pack. They needed to work out the legal documents that would ultimately deed a couple of Manhattan blocks to Patrick and Jono. While they didn’t want it, they needed to keep it.
Patrick very much did not want to become a landlord. The property taxes were going to be brutal, not to mention the cleaning and cleansing costs associated with purging those buildings of the embedded scent of terror. He had enough nightmares to deal with at the moment.
But the buildings were theirs, rightfully and legally, as proven by how they’d been able to enter the home unimpeded and grant passage to the police and federal agents looking for evidence. The ancient threshold had recognized them as owners, reacting to their presence. They’d stayed long enough to grant access before getting the fuck out of that toxic place.
The PCB was handling the god pack, while the SOA was handling the mess at the Ritz-Carlton. The penthouse in that hotel was the site of a fertility rite the SOA was still investigating. From what Setsuna had told Patrick, it had been reserved by a member of the Wisteria Coven for a guest of theirs. It seemed that family had never gotten over his inability to return their lost child and had been sucked into an alliance with the Dominion Sect.
“You’re cleared to proceed,” the security guard said, handing Jono a laminated guest pass.
“Cheers,” Jono muttered, clipping it to his shirt.
Patrick led him toward the elevators, and they took one directly to the thirtieth floor where Setsuna awaited their arrival. The weekend had been a shitshow. Patrick had skipped going to a hospital for care because there was nothing they’d be able to do. You couldn’t heal the kind of damage done to his soul with pills or potions. He’d suffered enough wounds in that area over the years to know what worked and what didn’t, and what would never heal.
His VA-assigned therapist had left Patrick a voicemail, saying he was available whenever Patrick was ready to talk. Patrick didn’t know when he’d reach out, but he would.
Someday.
Being surrounded by his pack had helped steady him more than anything else. The difference of now compared to when he was younger and alone was starkly apparent. Wade hadn’t left his side, claiming their guest bedroom with the very clear intention of turning it into a secondary hoarding space if the number of clothes he’d brought over was anything to go by.
Patrick knew Wade felt guilty about not being able to save him, and that was an issue they’d need to address sooner rather than later. It wasn’t Wade’s fault, and never would be, but emotions weren’t rational in the wake of trauma.
Sage was neck-deep in pack politics and wedding planning, but she still saw them every day. Getting the packs situated after the change in power was never-ending work, and he was forever grateful for her presence. As for the wedding, Patrick had his final suit fitting today after the meeting, and there was no way he’d be missing it. How he’d convince Sage to go on her honeymoon after everything that had happened still had him stumped.
“All right?” Jono asked, hand a warm, steady weight against the small of Patrick’s back.
Patrick wasn’t sure what he was projecting at the moment, but he didn’t mind Jono checking in. “As much as I can be when I’m about to get read the riot act by my boss.”
The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. Patrick knew where he needed to go and led Jono to a conference room. A spare office was set aside for visiting high-ranking officials, but Setsuna had chosen to hold the meeting outside it.
She was waiting for them in the conference room, a silence ward already cast against the walls, her rosewood cane with its carved Shinto shrine resting against the wall. She’d taken the seat at the head of the table, a stack of folders resting near her left hand, along with his badge and semiautomatic HK USP 9mm tactical pistol.
Setsuna studied him with dark eyes, her brow slightly furrowed. “You’re not shielded.”
