“We’ve also heard you’re stealing territory,” Alejandro said before taking a sip of his beer.
“It’s not stealing if the packs in question offer it to us and ask for our protection.”
Naomi and Alejandro shared a brief look that Patrick couldn’t read. He felt a little out of his comfort zone, unable to follow cues Jono or Sage would have no problem picking up on.
“Is that how you see it?” Naomi asked.
Patrick shrugged. “Estelle and Youssef are shit at looking out for the people they’re supposed to protect. They’re terrible alphas.”
“And you, a mage who will never carry the werevirus in your veins, think you’re better than them?”
“I know I am, and I believe that of my pack as well.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You want proof they’re good alphas?” Wade asked irritably. “Because I’m living proof if you need it. Patrick and Jono weren’t the ones who sold me to vampires. That was—”
“Wade,” Patrick interrupted calmly. “Be quiet.”
Wade closed his mouth with a snap and glared at the table. Patrick reached over and pulled a packet of Pop-Tarts out of Wade’s jacket pocket, ripped it open, and offered him one. Wade scowled, but couldn’t resist his favorite snack.
“We heard about the change in the Manhattan Night Court,” Alejandro said into the tense silence that followed Wade’s outburst.
“From contacts I assume you still have in the Anahuac Cartel?” Patrick asked. “Would those be the same ones who were summoned to New York last year for a street block party-style coup?”
Alejandro studied him through narrowed eyes. “You said you knew the vampire who’s in charge of that cartel.”
“Something like that. I work for the SOA. Dealing with the preternatural world is a requirement of the job.”
It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the entire truth. With his shields up, Patrick knew no one would be able to tell one way or the other. He wasn’t about to name-drop Lucien though, not with a pack he didn’t know and couldn’t trust.
He caught sight of their waitress coming toward them carrying a couple of plates. He stayed quiet as Wade was served, the teen’s mood lightening instantly once he had food.
“The rest will be out momentarily. Are you sure you’re going to eat all this?” the woman asked in a dubious voice.
Wade had already taken a too-large bite of his hamburger to respond, so he just nodded. She left, and Patrick turned his attention back to the table at large.
“We didn’t mean to break any rules by coming here without giving you a heads-up first. But I’m here for work, we aren’t interested in Chicago, and we’ll reciprocate pass-through rights in New York if any of your people ever come into our territory.”
“There are two god packs who lay claim to that city. What makes you think you can keep your word if the other pack denies us entry?” Naomi asked.
“Because they don’t have the alliances we do, and they won’t be around for long.”
“I’d eat those assholes if you’d let me,” Wade said around a mouthful of fries.
“I don’t need that paperwork in my life.”
“Shame.”
Naomi frowned at Wade, her nose twitching ever so slightly. “What are you?”
Wade burped, then smiled meanly. “Pack.”
“Will you grant us pass-through rights for the duration of my stay in Chicago for the case I’m handling?” Patrick asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Wade’s background.
“Asking after the fact isn’t how it’s done,” Alejandro said.
“I’m still asking.”
He wasn’t going to back down—he couldn’t back down. Walking away would be as bad as showing throat to the enemy. The Chicago god pack wasn’t their enemy though, and could maybe be a possible ally in the future if they played their hand right. Patrick just had to not fuck up any more than he already had.
“If you weren’t a federal agent, I’d drive you to O’Hare myself and watch you get on a plane,” Naomi said after a long moment.
“Does that mean you’ll grant us pass-through rights?”
“I know human laws. I can’t stop you.”
“That’s not a yes.”
Naomi shoved her chair back and stood. “Do your job, Special Agent Patrick Collins. Just make sure none of the packs in this city are caught in the crossfire or we will have words.”
He felt she was asking for a miracle there, but Patrick wasn’t going to tell her that. “I’ll do my best.”
Around them, werecreatures were heading for the door, but Naomi had yet to move. Alejandro downed what was left of his beer before getting to his feet, standing shoulder to shoulder with her in a solidarity no one could miss.
“I met Estelle and Youssef once before when I spoke in front of the United Nations on indigenous rights some years back. They would have never asked permission one way or another if they came to Chicago. You did.” Naomi pursed her lips. “Eventually.”
“We’ll remember that,” Alejandro said.
Patrick didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet rather than dig himself a hole he couldn’t get out of. He watched the Chicago god pack leave the bar and didn’t breathe easy until they were gone.
“That probably could’ve gone better,” Patrick said.
“Yeah,” Wade agreed, then shoved a plate closer to Patrick. “Fried pickle?”
Patrick went for the mozzarella sticks instead.
6
“You should call Patrick.”
Jono decided the better part of valor right then was to pretend Sage wasn’t glaring at him at half past nine on a Wednesday morning. He grimaced as Victoria finished washing out the knife wound on his side with saline and started to apply the poultice. Her thick black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her scrubs that morning had kittens playing with yarn balls on them.
“Stop moving,” Victoria told him, never taking her eyes off his ribs.
She was seated on the coffee table, her potions case open and supplies scattered around her. Victoria worked as an RN at Mount Sinai and had a standing contract with Marek to help heal
