No Place for a Packless Wolf
Just as she entered the bulletproof black Maybach, Chloe's shoulders were covered by a dark overcoat belonging to a super giant man whose head was not captured on camera - Alexander Sterling, the King.
Julian's chest felt as if it had been stabbed by hundreds of rusty knives at once. His breathing stopped. The wolf howled in pain as if its skin was being sliced alive from the inside. Blind jealousy, regret, brokenness, disgust, all stirred into a vomit of deadly self-hatred.
"C-Chloe..." muttered Julian, stretching his dirty hand forward, as if he wanted to wipe the woman's face from afar but the screen suddenly turned off.