Sergi isn't the only one dressed up.
Izzie is there and wearing the biggest, pinkest Rapunzel costume you've ever seen, complete with a braid of synthetic yellowy blonde hair taped onto her hair band.
She waves at you, face flushed with excitement. "Hi Gideon Mercer!"
"Hi Izzie."
The Alpha looks around the gathered pack, his dark eyes warm. "Try not to embarrass me too much in there, okay?"
A murmur of laughter.
"No promises, boss."
With a weary sigh, he leads you in a messy procession towards the bouncer.
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The man straightens when he sees you and frowns down at the kids. "They can't come in—"
"We're with the private party," the Alpha says.
The man's brow arches. "The bikers? You don't look like their sort of people."
"No," the Alpha agrees, voice low and dangerous. "We don't. But we are."
Something in the man's face shifts.
"Okay... eh... sorry. You didn't look like what I expected. Um. Just go right on up. Have a good night."
Izzie sticks her tongue out at him.
The Alpha just grunts, leading the pack through the open door, up a flight of stairs, and into a large room with old leather arm chairs, hardwood floors, and half a dozen mounted deer heads. It would be weirdly quaint... if it wasn't also filled to the brim with werewolves.
"Look who's here!"
"Hah! Took 'em long enough."
"Hey, don't be a dick, Pat. You guys want a beer? Or a cider? This place does the best cider."
"Aw! Cubs! Hello!"
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