In response, Sage unclasped the turquoise pendant necklace she wore on a platinum chain, the fae magic embedded in the artifact a barrier that hid her scent and what she truly was. Her scent hit Jono’s nose in a soothing way, and he ducked his head a little so she could hook the necklace around his own throat.
“You can’t show weakness to them.”
“Thought you didn’t even want me to show them my face at all?”
Sage arched an eyebrow. “I agree we can’t let their actions slide if they truly hired the hunters. I just think you’re rushing in without thinking.”
“So, like Pat.”
“The two of you are the reason I drink some days.”
Jono gingerly sat on the bed while Sage went to grab his boots and a clean pair of socks. Bending over made everything ache in a way he wished would go away.
Sage knelt in front of him and calmly put on his shoes for him, tying the laces so tight he thought she’d break them. When she stood and went to step back, Jono snagged her wrist, pressing his fingers into the pulse point there.
“If I don’t stand my ground and take what’s ours, they’ll keep coming,” Jono said quietly. “We’re either ready to fight now, or we never will be.”
Sage twisted her hand free to grab his wrist, raising his hand to her throat. She tipped her head to the side, giving him full access. Jono pressed his scent into her skin, the feeling of pack washing over them both. The steady beat of her heart was a comforting metronome beneath his fingertips.
“I’ll talk to Tiarnán about putting extra security on your apartment. If you want to make a point, we can rub our alliance with the fae into Estelle and Youssef’s faces.”
Jono cracked a smile. “There’s a thought. Now go to work. I’ll have Emma and Leon with me all day.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I think me showing up without any of the rest of our god pack will prove how little I think of them and care for their bollocks.”
“Call me after you’re done.”
“Of course.”
Sage helped him off the bed. They left the flat, every step down the stairs making the knife wound over his ribs throb a little. Despite the pain, it hurt less than when he’d first been cut, a testament to Victoria’s skill with healing potions.
Marek was already behind the wheel of his Maserati, and Sage headed for her ride. Leon was parked behind them on the street in the Escalade, hazard lights on, with Emma waiting outside to help Jono into the front passenger seat.
“Let’s go,” Jono said once he was buckled up.
The drive to Estelle and Youssef’s territory in the Upper Manhattan neighborhood of Hamilton Heights felt like it took forever, but that was mostly the pain talking. Jono watched the buildings flash by, swallowing against the nausea that came and went.
Leon stuck to the speed limit, slowed for yellow lights rather than run them, and in general, drove like an old person. Jono figured the body in the boot was the reason for Leon’s caution. He couldn’t say it bothered him. Getting pulled over by the police would make the morning even worse, and they wanted to avoid that mess.
“Are we just dumping the crate on their porch?” Emma asked from the back. “What about cameras?”
“I’d wager they don’t want the police digging any deeper than they already are,” Jono said.
He didn’t have much of a plan other than return the body to the people who hired the Krossed Knights. If he was thinking clearer, maybe he wouldn’t have opted to act so rashly, but he was done with Estelle and Youssef in every way.
They didn’t deserve to claim New York City as their territory, and Jono was going to make it clear he wasn’t taking their shit anymore.
Leon parked in front of a brownstone sometime later, the street the god pack lived on quiet despite the weekday morning hour. He put the hazard lights on and stayed where he was behind the wheel. Jono and Emma got out, and he left her to retrieving the crate from the boot. Despite her petite size, Emma carried the crate as if it weighed nothing. She followed Jono to the front door of the rival god pack’s territory.
The brownstones clustered on the block belonged to the god pack of New York City through leases passed down to every alpha, but Jono would never want to live here. He preferred his flat with Patrick, and all the memories they were making in it over the buildings that seemed to have fear embedded in their very foundations. The smell made Jono’s nose twitch, along with the magic Estelle and Youssef had bought to secure their home.
Fenrir stirred deep in his soul, and Jono knew whatever wards their pack had bought, none of it would hold in the face of a god’s anger.
Jono reached the porch, and rather than knock, he kicked open the door. The wound in his side and the poison still in his body made him a little shaky, but Fenrir steadied him. The door broke off its hinges and crashed to the floor. The sound of it landing on the floor seemed to notify everyone left in the home of their arrival.
Jono didn’t wait for anyone to come. He stepped aside just enough for Emma to drop the crate inside, the dish gloves she wore almost too big for her hands. She never lost her grip though, and kicked the crate further into the building. It crashed into someone’s legs as they arrived, but Jono didn’t care about that. All he cared about was the person who appeared in the doorway.
“Hope you haven’t eaten yet because we’ve brought you breakfast,” Jono said to Estelle.
She glared at him, standing behind her home’s threshold and looking one breath away from murder. Her auburn hair was loose around her face, wolf-bright amber eyes snapping with fury. “You’re trespassing.”
“Jamere took offense to the hunters you hired
