Patrick Verona Novels & Stories

P.o.V. Narrator Patrick could hardly contain himself as they pulled up to the High Valley pack house. He barely waited for the car to stop before jumping out and heading towards the trunk. He bounced impatiently shooting glares at the warrior who drove them who went to speak with a warrior from High Valley before opening the trunk. When the man finally turned around, he looked surprised to see Patrick waiting there and quickly fumbled in his pocket for the keys to unlock it.

Next thing I know I see the man that I saw at the lake walking by. “Arthur, who is that man that is walking around in your house? What is he doing here?” This time I was the person who got angry real fast. Levi puts his hand on my leg to let me know he will have my back whatever my next move will be. He could see something that the lies really upset me. He knows me to well. “That is Patrick one of the best pack warriors, he just stepped by for pack business. Nothing to worry about Alpha Noah, Alpha Roan has everything is under control for this weekend.”

I wonder if he’s worn it as long as Soren has. “Soren–he told me he works for someone named the Viper.” Patton seems to be having a hard time meeting my eyes. He chews the inside of his cheek, nodding gravely. “Do you work for the Viper, too?” “From time to time.” He briefly looks in my direction but quickly looks away, rising to fetch the bottle of whiskey off the mantle. Instead of coming back to the table, he leans against the dormant fireplace, fiddling with the cork.

Wait, what is this? He arched his brows, "What?" So dayum hot! Sera laughed. "Kira, he's my brother! Patry." They joined the table and Patry sat beside Sera and Jerich. He's now busy with his phone. Who is he chatting with? Girlfriend? Is he taken already?

He did not answer Gerald. Virginia turned his face away from her ex-step-father. She did not want to see him for the rest of her life. She did not want to say anything either before Patrick got his turn. “Hhaa! Haha! Hahahahaa!” Patrick suddenly laughed out loudly. His sanity has fallen to zero. “You are so lucky, Virginia. If only I chose not to sell you, things like this won’t happen…” Patrick slowly walked closer to Gerald but his step was stopped by the executor. He stared at the mafia boss with his desperate expression. “I wish you a happy life with that bitch!”

"You have trespassed into the Valemont soil. You have taken my son. Tell me who ordered it, or I will peel the hide from your bones before the sun rises too high." The man chuckled, the deep phlegmy sound rattling in his broad chest. "Threaten me with your claws, boy. I hunted the abominations of your rejected mate’s bloodline when your father was just claiming his pack. I am Patrick. St. Patrick to those who consider me a savior of this world. Your fangs mean nothing to the man who has spent fifty years destroying the taint of the Nullifiers."

A suit, and expensive glasses he kept adjusting. Her heartbeat stuttered. He pushed off the car and approached her, steps careful, purposeful, very confident. “Ms. Vaughn?” he asked, voice even and smooth as if he were addressing a jury. She didn’t answer. Her fingers tightened around the bag. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Leilani Amara Vaughn?” Silence stretched thin between them. At last, she nodded once. Barely. He exhaled, as though he’d been holding his breath since sunrise. “My name is Lennon Patterson Jr.”

Patrick drank it all in, feeling very humble and ignorant. In La Spezia he had been used to know everyone and he known everywhere, but it was evident that in Rome circles it was different. Tellaro and the Tellaro fortune counted for nothing. He was only an unknown provincial here. Mr Fritzwa produced an enormous turnip watch from his pocket and consulted it. "It's after twelve", he announced. "If the magistrates have got wind of this and mean to stop it, it will be a damn hum!" But just at the moment some cheering, not unmixed with catcalls and a few derisive shouts, was set up, and Steve Angelo, accompanied by his seconds, Faruk Lacesh, the Black, and Sancho Riclux, arbiter of sport, came u

Angelo crossed his arms. “He’s circling.” Sophia felt the room grow slightly colder. “You think it’s him.” Patrick didn’t answer right away. Finally he said quietly: “I know it is.” Earlier That Week Patrick had been checking local traffic cameras in Savannah when he noticed something that made his stomach drop. A face. Just for a second. But it was enough. John. Older. Thinner. But still watching. Still waiting. Patrick closed the laptop slowly and leaned back in his chair. “Son of a bitch.”

Where could he be at the moment? At that moment, Patrick was in Luna's apartment. The result was out, it certified it, and confirmed the bond between them, the relationship they shared: their mother and son. Luna Wesley is Patrick Connor’s mother. As Patrick glared at the result in his hand, he made the decision from that moment to be separated from Adrian and Richard henceforth. They've come a long way, but at this point, they can only relate with each other from a distance. He cannot accept Richard Lester as his father.