“Snacks.”
Sage chuckled. “That won’t help us win this war.”
“It’d keep us fed. Aren’t supply lines important in something like this?”
“If it gets to the point of us needing supply lines, we’d be in a shit position. Between our combined alliances, the government, and whatever help the gods give us, we’ll need to be enough,” Jono said.
They had to be, because there was no way Jono was letting Patrick lose this fight.
There was no way Jono was losing the man he loved.
Tiarnán met his gaze and nodded grimly. “If this world falls to hell, we all do.”
It echoed what Ashanti had said when speaking about her children starving if hell were to win. Letting Ethan turn himself into a god of hell would create a new myth none of them would survive.
“Just have your people ready, and we’ll have ours.”
Tiarnán inclined his head. “Wedaoine sídhewill not shirk our duty.”
That was as close to a promise as they would get out of the fae. Deep in his soul, Fenrir seemed satisfied, so Jono would have to be as well.
The meeting didn’t last much longer after the confirmation of support was obtained. That was one more group of fighters they could count on when everything went to shit.
“I’ll walk down with you,” Deirdre said as she stood. “My Starbucks order should be ready.”
Jono didn’t know where the Starbucks was, but he figured it had to be close by, if not in the building somewhere, because venturing out in this weather wasn’t worth it, even for coffee. Patrick would probably say otherwise, but he wasn’t there.
Sage and Deirdre made small talk about things that weren’t related to the alliance as they left the office and waited for a lift. Jono pulled out his mobile, switching it out of silent mode now that the meeting was over. Patrick hadn’t texted him an update, but he had a couple from several pack leaders he’d need to respond to.
The lift arrived, and they took it down to the lobby, picking up a couple of other riders on the way down. Jono ignored the double takes he received, while Wade scowled pointedly at the people who began stinking up the elevator with their fear-tinged anxiousness.
Jono was glad to leave the small space behind in favor of the lobby—right up until he realized who waited for them. The group of men and women in business attire wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if it weren’t for how they smelled bitter and acrid from demons riding their souls.
“Take cover!” Jono snarled, grabbing Wade by the shoulder and shoving him back into a lift, forcing everyone else back as well.
Sage threw herself against a pair of closed lift doors, the gold-and-white marble edges of the lift frame protruding outward to provide mediocre safety from the bullets aimed their way. Jono did the same while Deirdre raised a shield between herself and the Krossed Knights taking aim at them from the lobby. Whatever spells they’d used to get their weapons past the security desk, they’d dropped them now.
The handful of people who were in the lobby screamed and ran for the entrance, including the pair of people manning the security desk. Considering they weren’t armed, Jono didn’t blame them.
“Jono!” Wade shouted as he popped back out of the elevator before the doors could shut and take him to safety.
Deirdre’s shields were a glittering, effervescent pink and slightly opaque. They stopped the bullets well enough but couldn’t hold up against the cross-bolt one of the hunters fired. It ripped through her shield like it was nothing but tissue paper—spelled, Jono guessed—and Deirdre wasn’t quick enough to dodge it completely. It cut across her arm, the wool of her sweater tearing along with her skin. The cry she let out was one of shock more than pain, and her shield cracked like pressure applied to a frozen-over lake.
She staggered, reaching out with one hand to brace herself against a lift door. She’d gone white in the face, holding her wounded arm close to her body, struggling to keep up her shields.
“Deirdre!” Sage cried out.
The fae blinked rapidly. “Iron-tipped.”
Jono swore, knowing how badly iron affected the fae. They couldn’t count on her shield, and when it finally shattered, Jono stood on four legs instead of two, the shift to his wolf form having taken less than a minute with Fenrir’s help.
Wade belched fire at the hunters before they could get off any more bullets, forcing some of them to scatter out of range. Jono used those few seconds to get clear of the lift bank and sink his teeth and claws into the hunters carrying guns. The acrid scent of hell hung heavy in the air, hints of the demons riding their souls. They tasted even worse once Jono bit into them.
Blood filled his mouth as his fangs bit through an arm like it was nothing, the pressure in his jaws tearing through clothes and flesh and bone. He jerked his head, and the hunter’s arm came with him, tearing clean out of its socket. Flesh split, the wet sound buried under the hunter’s scream as Jono spat the limb out, blood pumping from the man’s brachial artery. A dull roar filled his ears as a flash of negative light exploded around the hunter. The demon left its host to die, and Jono moved on to the next target.
Deirdre struggled to get her shields back up, but she was pinned down in front of a lift. The flicker of opaque pink around her body hinted at her troubled state. The magic in the iron was sharp in Jono’s nose, as was the silver he could practically taste in the other half of the hunters’ arsenal.
Aconite made his eyes water, but Jono refused to let it bother him as he took down another hunter, claws tearing open a rib cage with a single swipe. He pivoted, just missing getting a bite out of another hunter, when a vicious roar echoed through the lobby. Sage barreled out of the lift bank and slammed into a hunter taking aim at Jono.
