Life had been calmer since he'd convinced that brat to go check out Crimson Dreams. The flower field and all that good stuff. And that woman who'd taken her in, Deuce. His grandmother. It was amusing to him. He didn't tell her he was her grandson, after all she'd been mated to Lucifer. Stupid evil shadow wolf.
He walked the border, wandering it aimlessly. He was trying to be good, trying to be helpful. It really wasn't his fault that the brat sparked his ire so easily every time. That was why he'd led her to crimson dreams, led her away. She was old enough, bright enough. As long as she didn't piss off the wrong canine. Or anything else there.
He paused near the border tree, where he could hear raised voices. His eyebrows arched. The butterflies whispered, telling him to stay back, to avoid it. In the spirit of trying to ignore the butterflies, he went forward. He didn't bother trying to hide his approach, just approached. When he saw who it was, he suddenly realized what a mistake it could possibly be. Not just one, but both of Juliet's parents stood there, talking in worried, anxious, and furious tones about the missing brat.
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