Jono managed a weak chuckle, hissing at the way his still-healing skin pulled from the motion. The bullet had been removed from his thigh by an FDNY EMS, but the silver poisoning had been addressed by Victoria’s healing potion. She’d left her nursing shift at the hospital and had come straightaway to Brooklyn to help. She was currently tending to those of Austin’s pack who had survived the fight and had no plans to leave any time soon.
A couple of Austin’s pack members were missing, taken by demons and removed from the fight when the bastards had left their original hosts in the face of the Night Marchers’ approach. Jono vowed to get them back, the same way they’d managed to bring Keira back with the help of the Catholic Church’s exorcism squad.
She was currently resting in Austin’s bed, surrounded by pack members, and Jono knew that was a trauma he’d have to figure out how to help her handle. Just one more failure added to his list as a god pack alpha.
Warm fingers touched his throat before sliding up to brush over his lips. “Hey. None of that now.”
The soulbond hummed between them like tuning forks. Jono didn’t mind Patrick was parsing his emotions through it—he did it enough to the other man through scent reading.
Jono shook his head, the motion dislodging Patrick’s touch. His mouth twisted into a grimace that pressed tight against his teeth. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
“Which part? Estelle not caring about the packs under her protection? Her alliance with hunters? Our packs getting hurt? The entire fucking civil war because she’s power-hungry the same way Ethan is? There was no stopping any of it.” Patrick made a face as he sealed the pressure bandage back over the wound. “Although, if I’d gotten here faster, I could’ve stopped you from issuing a challenge until you were fully healed.”
Jono caught Patrick’s fingers in his own, giving them a squeeze. “You came. That’s all that matters.”
He’d come through the veil, dragged back to New York by Hermes, which Jono didn’t approve of. Gerard had been left behind to tackle the aftermath of the attack at the Library of Congress. One god of war had gone after Patrick, and another had been sent to aid Jono. The irony wasn’t lost on him; there were many sides to every war, after all.
Austin’s flat had become ground zero for communication with the police. The entire street had been cordoned off while CSU gathered evidence from the fight dressed in hazmat suits. Several hunters and rival god pack werecreatures had been arrested while others had been carted off in body bags. Wade had let Nicholas go only after the other man was put into warded handcuffs and been injected with a sedative that would keep him from shifting.
Police had taken everyone’s statements while medical treatment was administered. Some, like Jono, had been shot with silver bullets, and the poisoning was difficult to overcome. Even with Fenrir to steady him, Jono still felt weaker than normal and mildly sick to his stomach. The wounds would close, but they’d leave bruises behind that would take at least a day or more to heal. None of it would fade until the silver was fully flushed from his system.
“When did you tell her the challenge would happen?” Sage asked from where she was carefully sorting through the debris in the living room for anything that could be salvaged.
Jono licked his dry lips. “I didn’t.”
“Don’t go after her today,” Casale warned.
“You don’t get to dictate how and when we fight. We have a right to settle this in the challenge ring.”
“There’s been enough damage to the city this month already. Let me at least plead your case to the mayor so we can get a curfew in place. The less collateral you have to deal with, the better.”
“She sent demons to steal the souls of the people under my protection. I’m not willing to let her think that’s acceptable bywaiting.”
“You’ve waited this long already, what’s twenty-four hours more?”
That stung, mostly because Jono knew Casale had a point. They’d been biding their time for months and months, trying to shore up their weaker position with alliances and convincing other packs to join them. But they’d reached a tipping point that had started in the subway and would end with Estelle out of power.
“He’s right,” Sage said quietly. “Get the mayor on our side for this. We need some good PR.”
“That’s why we hired a PR company,” Wade muttered around the large bite of the microwaveable sandwich he’d heated up in the kitchen. He’d been steadily raiding Austin’s kitchen, and Jono had a feeling he’d owe them several grocery shop runs.
Casale sighed heavily, hands on his hips. “Give me time to get the mayor on your side.”
“You had months, the same way we did. We don’t need you pleading our case to the mayor when we can do it ourselves. Get us a meeting with him today. That’s all you need to do,” Patrick demanded, craning his head around to look at Casale.
Patrick’s anger was bright and bitter on Jono’s tongue. He swallowed against it, never letting go of his hand. “You asked for twenty-four hours, and as a courtesy, we’ll give it to you. But that’s it. This ends tomorrow.”
“Yeah, because if it keeps going to Wednesday and Sage misses her wedding, she’ll kill us,” Wade added.
“Try Monday. Patrick has his final fitting that day,” Sage said, aiming for lightness, but they all knew how she felt about her wedding getting disrupted.
Jono pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way Patrick tried to get him to remain seated on the broken sofa. He winced at the way his muscles pulled in his torso and thigh at the motion. The scrubs the EMS had given him were slightly too small, but he didn’t care that he looked ridiculous. All he cared about was going home with his pack, but they weren’t done here yet.
Casale eyed him with an unreadable look, but the other man smelled like a mix of exasperation and worry, not anger.
“You know Estelle is going to deny she had anything to do with what happened here today. She’ll place all the blame on Nicholas, and he’ll take it because he’s loyal to her. You want peace within the werecreature community here? Then get us a meeting with the mayor,” Jono said in a low voice.
Jono would prefer to drive over to Estelle’s territory right then, knock on her door, and tear out her throat. It didn’t matter he was weaker than he normally was due to silver poisoning. Politics was about trying to placate everyone and pleasing no one in the end.
