Chapter 45. An Isle-Mist Welcome

If Dante Pelosi assumed he could slink away for the umpteenth time, he thought wrong. Clutching Nora's basket of breakfast goods, I high-tailed it out of the door despite Nora's persistent calls.

I actually shifted into my wolf-form; that's how angry I had gotten. I simply couldn't comprehend how he was so willing to leave me in the dark yet again. Slowing down to adjust the food basket in my slightly foaming mouth, I sprinted down the pack lands, passing the vegetable patch and heading for the grotto.

His fresh, woodsy scent begins to infiltrate my nostrils, and I know he is close. Probably two-stepping towards the boundary lines with a smug grin on his face. Sure enough, a leather-clad set of shoulders and a heavy duffel bag appear in my line of vision.

Gotcha.