The Mafia Don and his runaway.

Con was still laughing as Gio downed his third shot of tequila. Being interrupted before he could fully claim his mate had called forth all the fury of hell as the Alpha wolf barrelled out of his apartment, running straight into his best friend. No other wolf would have been able to calm him down, but years of dealing with Gio's legendary temper had prepared Con well. It didn't take much to guess the cause for the boss's foul temper either. So, after a few wrecked pylons and some walls that would need further reinforcement, the two found themselves at the bar. Con was nursing a suspected broken rib, but he'd have to see the medic later; right now, he couldn't risk letting Gio out of his sight.

"...Fuck! Why would she just up and leave like that?"

Con almost swallowed his tongue in his effort not to answer that with a smart retort, knowing he would probably be signing his death warrant in doing so. But his features shook with suppressed mirth as Gio eyed him warily, pou

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