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Chapter Twelve

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The trees in the small clearing in the forest danced gently to the song of the wind, their hips swaying so rhythmically that Elio couldn't stop but wonder at their beauty and the freezing cold that accompanied their jibe. He tucked his hands into his pockets, adjusted his cardigan and walked on.

With each step he took to his unratified rendezvous, twigs cracked and broke under his legs, intruding the myriad of conflicting thoughts in his mind.

The shadow pack were a small clan in the lost island of the eclipse wolves, the least of them, but notorious for their brute strength and extreme scheming prowess.

They had always wished to be noticed and honored just as the children of the remaining packs were treated. They wanted to be significant and utterly indispensable in the affairs of all the werewolf packs in the land.

And so he did it, he approached Dante with the demeanor of an angel while his heart was full of venomous spite. To the wolves of the shadow pack, deceitf
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