#Chapter 543: Fashionably Late

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?”