“Not sure the rats have cleared out.”
“Maybe the gargoyles will have eaten them,” Wade said hopefully.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “No one is eating the press. That goes double for you.”
“I wasn’t offering. I bet they taste as bad as demons do.”
“Just be safe. Goes for all of you.”
Jono nudged Patrick with his elbow. “You too.”
Patrick tapped at his phone to get the time, seeing that Danai would be arriving soon. He was the only one going to the meeting, while Jono and Wade were most likely heading home together. Sage was working remotely upstairs, refusing to leave Marek’s side after the weekend. Not that Patrick blamed her. Their wedding was in a little under two weeks, and they still had so much to finalize on top of the civil war happening within the werecreature community. The gods dropping a vision onto Marek was another stressor they could all do without.
Aside from Marek’s vision and trying to lie low, Patrick had been unable to stop watching the news over the weekend. So he’d seen when the national and international media had descended on Salem, Massachusetts, attempting to get a statement out of everyone on his mother’s side. Eloise Patterson had yet to appear before the cameras, though many Salem Coven members had gotten between the media and his family with a surprising amount of hostility.
Patrick was waiting for the moment his grandmother appeared on camera. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to see when that happened—his family fighting to reach out to him, or casting him aside in the wake of Ethan’s actions.
Wade finished the last sausage on his plate and then eyed Patrick’s remaining food. “You going to finish your omelet?”
Patrick silently slid his plate across the table to Wade, who happily stabbed it with his fork.
“You should’ve eaten more than that,” Jono said.
Patrick shrugged. “Wasn’t really hungry.”
His phone rang before Jono could worry further about his eating habits, Danai’s name appearing on the screen. He swiped to answer it, putting the phone up to his ear.
“I’m two minutes away in a black Escalade,” Danai said.
“You don’t strike me as someone who’d own that kind of car,” Patrick said.
“I have a preference for fast and sleek. I’m using my firm’s car-hire service with a driver this time.”
“I’ll be downstairs. Hopefully you weren’t followed by the press.”
Danai made a noncommittal noise before ending the call. Patrick shoved his phone into his suit pocket and pushed his chair back, getting to his feet. He locked down his shields with a single thought, the weight of them settling into his bones. Jono followed him to the front door, keeping him there with a lingering kiss.
“Be safe. Tap a ley line if you have to,” Jono said when he finally pulled back.
Patrick licked his lips and nodded. “Not sure that’s a good idea if the government might be looking at my soul.”
Jono curled warm fingers around Patrick’s chin, holding him still for another kiss. “Do it anyway.”
“Now you sound like Wade.”
“I heard that,” came Wade’s muffled shout from the dining table.
“Finish my breakfast,” Patrick yelled back. Then Patrick tugged at Jono’s wrist, twisting it to press a kiss against his knuckles. “I’ll come back.”
The worried line Jono’s mouth was pressed into didn’t soften. “I love you.”
Patrick left because he had to, but he carried his pack’s support with him for the fight ahead.
Danai’s vehicle pulled up in front of the building when he made it downstairs, and Patrick didn’t waste any time climbing into the back with her. Her designer tote bag sat between her feet, heavy with a case file, and she held a brief in one hand that she’d apparently been reviewing on the drive over.
“Ready?” Danai asked as her driver stepped on the gas.
“No other choice but to be, right?” Patrick replied.
