“Patrick.”
He wanted to keep the way Jono said his name—like it was the most sacred sound between them—in his heart forever. He wanted everything they’d ever promised each other since the beginning. But he couldn’t have it, couldn’t keep it, without paying his soul debt first.
“I’ll come back,” Patrick said, hoping it wasn’t a lie, knowing it could be. “Iwill. Find me when I do.”
Jono buried his face against the curve of Patrick’s shoulder where it met his neck, breath hot against his skin. “You bloody fuckingarsehole.”
Patrick bit down hard on his bottom lip, tasting blood, shaking with the sheer physical need to turn around, hold on to Jono, and never let go. But doing that would mean he’d lose everything he’d fought for over the years, everything he’d ever wanted.
Freedom from the gods.
His life back.
Hissoul.
Because Patrick couldn’t live like this—at the mercy of gods—anymore. He only wanted to live for Jono and their pack, in a future not dictated by the Fates.
He wanted tolive, not just survive like the gods were doing in their endless stretch of immortality.
Jono’s lips were warm when they brushed over Patrick’s temple, a featherlight kiss that branded him all the way down to his soul. Then Jono pried his hands off Patrick and stepped back. The coldness that took his place felt like winter, and Patrick shivered from the ache of it.
“Say those words to my face when you come back to me,” Jono said from behind him, voice ragged and breaking, the heartache in it like a wound that would never mend.
Hermes’ mouth ticked up at the corners as he wriggled his fingers. “Ready, Pattycakes?”
Patrick reached for Hermes’ hand, holding on tight to the god, trying to remember how to breathe. He stepped over Hannah’s body, her soul drifting alongside him, and followed after Hermes deep into the veil, Macaria safe in his arms.
He never looked back.
30
Jono stumbledout of the veil into the storm, feeling unmoored in a way he never thought he could. Patrick’s grief was thick in his nose and fading fast, his scent washing away from Jono’s hands by the rain still pouring down.
“Jono!”
Wade’s frantic voice reached him first before the teen careened out of the rapidly fading fog. Jono held out his hands to grab Wade by the shoulders before the teen could crash into him. “Whoa, mate. I’m right here.”
Wade’s gold eyes darted back and forth, searching the space around them. “Where’s Patrick? Patrick!”
Jono tightened his hold on Wade, fingers scraping over red scales pushing up across his shoulders. “He’s gone with Hermes.”
“What do youmeanhe’sgone with Hermes? He’s supposed to stay with us!”
Jono swallowed around the tightness in his throat, trying to focus past the screaming emptiness at the other end of the soulbond. Letting go of Patrick had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he knew why Patrick had asked it of him. Jono would carry whatever Patrick couldn’t if asked, but the soul debt would never be his to pay.
“He’s gone to do his duty, but Pat will come back. He always does.”
Wade stared at Jono with a painful, betrayed look on his face, mouth opening and closing on words he couldn’t say. Jono drew him into a sideways hug, rubbing at his back.
“He’s grounded when he comes home,” Wade finally said in a small voice, face buried against Jono’s shoulder. “I can’t—he’s anidiot. Why couldn’t he wait for us? We’repack.”
“We are, and Pat knows that. But this was something he had to finish on his own.”
Jono hated saying that, but all he could see was how Patrick had refused to turn around and face him in the veil, always willing to tear himself apart to save everyone else. Jono would do anything, give up everything, to follow after Patrick, but Fenrir hadn’t let him. Some things, the god had told him when Jono had let Patrick go, were always meant to be.
This is how it begins, Fenrir reminded him.
Fuck off, Jono snapped back.
