“New York City can’t afford a civil war between god packs.”
“Bit late for that, innit?” Jono straightened up, letting his arms fall to his sides. “As I said, it’s within my right to protect my territory. Are your people interrogating Estelle and Youssef the same way you’re interrogating me?”
“We’re aware of their pack’s actions over the last few months.”
Jono’s lips curled. “But not their actions, specifically, is that it?”
Casale met his gaze with a steady intensity. “The only side I’m on is the city’s. Consider this a friendly warning that the mayor knows what’s been happening and isn’t thrilled. We’ve been told to start cracking down.”
“Are you only warning me?”
“You and Collins.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying.”
Casale shook his head, keeping his voice low. “Don’t play dumb. It’s a crap look on you. We both know his place in your pack. I’ve already warned him people are starting to question his presence with you every time something goes down. Tonight isn’t going to stop people from thinking otherwise.”
“It’s a public bar. Everyone is welcome,” Marek said.
“It’s a bar that caters to the werecreature community.”
“Nothing illegal about that.”
“I’m not saying there is.” Casale took a step back. “My detectives will pull your security feed, and we’ll work on the traffic cameras. We’ll be asking for witness statements of anyone we find on camera. Things will go quicker if you give us names.”
Jono couldn’t warn Casale off without good reason, and he didn’t have one, not with hellfire bombs having been tossed at the bar. It was an opening salvo no one could ignore, even those whose identities as werecreatures were kept a closely guarded secret. But neither could he simply give up the privacy and anonymity so many of the alphas who had been there tonight tried to keep for themselves and their packs.
“We’ll see,” Jono said, unable to offer complete cooperation.
Casale jerked his head at the front of the bar. “The media is camped outside. You may want to get a ride home with someone else.”
It was a subtle, pointed suggestion to not be seen walking away from the mess tonight with Patrick. For all that they were openly together within the werecreature community, their relationship was a secret from everyone else because it had to be. Jono knew that was going to change. When and how badly was anyone’s guess.
“We’re free to go?” Jono asked.
Casale nodded. “For now. We have your statements. We’ll be in touch.”
Casale left to deal with the mess outside. Jono pushed away from the bar and walked over to where Sage and Emma were trying to coax Ronaldo through another shift. He was in wolf form now, panting hard and whining softly in the back of his throat.
“We’re going to take him home with us,” Sage said.
Jono crouched in front of Ronaldo, reaching out to stroke a careful hand over the other man’s still-healing head. “Need you to shift back to human, mate. We’ve some clothes for you to change into, but you can’t walk out of here on four feet. Got too many cameras outside for that.”
Two feet wasn’t much better, but he’d be more maneuverable if he passed out in human form. Ronaldo whined again. Emma looked at Jono, the extra clothes taken from the employees’ room resting over her thighs.
“You’ll have to force the change,” she said, shoulders slumped in defeat.
Jono sighed, not liking to use that power on someone so obviously wounded. God pack alphas were capable of calling packs to them or forcing werecreatures to change from one form to another. The call was rarely used these days, what with everyone having a mobile, but Jono’s pack ties were far more extensive than they had been even six months ago.
Control wasn’t something Jono cared to force onto someone else, but they had very few options here. Ronaldo needed to change forms, not only so he could leave, but so his wounds could continue to heal.
Jono gripped the thick scruff of Ronaldo’s fur with gentle fingers. Ronaldo licked his teeth, staring at Jono without fear in his eyes or in his scent. It was that lack of fear that drove away the guilt Jono felt at imposing his will on someone else.
“Change,” Jono growled.
The command in his voice was one which Ronaldo could not ignore. It wasn’t magic, but something more primal that pulled at the pack bonds tying Jono to the people under his protection. It forced Ronaldo to shift from wolf to human, body writhing as bone broke, skin split, and muscles realigned themselves.
The shift was slower due to exhaustion, but soon Ronaldo was lying on the floor between them, naked and shivering. Large swaths of his skin were pink like a bad sunburn, but nothing like the ugly, painful third-degree burns he’d been sporting until Sage and Emma started cycling him through shifts.
