His phone rang. It was his cousin Michel’s number.
“There’s a body in Lac St. Patrice. The police want us to take a look at it.”
“Wolves?” Charles asked. Chantelle gasped from the other room.
“Yes. Same as before. A young woman.”
“Ostie!” This was bad. The pack’s relationship with local police was strong, but with all the recent wolf attacks, it had become strained. “Do you need me there?”
“Since you’re in town.”
“Right.” He ended the call.
He returned to the living room. Chantelle looked so beautiful lying on the couch. Her black hair framed her sweetheart face so perfectly. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. The police have found a body.”
“A body—where? In Lac St-Patrice?” Chantelle’s face drained of all colour.
“I have to come with you. One of my youth went missing last week and…”
“You’re in no shape to go gallivanting across town.”
She crooked an eyebrow, saying, “Gallivanting?”
“You know what I mean. You’ve been attacked—”
“By wolves. I know. That’s why—”
She hung her head and sniffed.
Dammit, why did she get to him? “You can’t come with me. But I’ll drive back here when I’m done and fill you in.”
“Okay.” If she asked me for anything right now, I would say yes. Her eyes were shining.
Oh boy, he was in trouble, big trouble.
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