Nathan
I mingled among the crowd of southern socialites and pack leaders, sipping occasionally from my glass of champagne as I made small talk. Dan, of course, was never far; he always seemed to be schmoozing some Alpha or another.
“Alpha Maurice!” Dan exclaimed, stretching his arms out wide as an elderly Alpha with a head of wiry gray hair approached, hobbling on a cane. “When did they bring you back from the grave?”
The elderly Alpha shook his fist at Dan in mock humor, but his eyes were as sharp as knives as they swept over me. This was no doddering old man. In fact, I knew for a fact that he was as sharp as a tack; after all, I knew him well.
This was Alpha Maurice, the Alpha of the southern Twin Moon pack—and one of my cohorts.
Maurice and I had been in contact for
