Rejected, But Trapped By The Alpha King
A white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, revealed the sharp clavicle of his neck, sleeves rolled to expose pale, snow-like skin.
From afar, he exuded an air of noble aloofness, the lit cigarette adding a touch of earthly life to his otherwise painting-like appearance.
Cline, with fingers with distinct knuckles, idly flicked the cigarette's ember.
The flickering fire burned his skin, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain.
Russell's cold voice echoed in his ears.
"Mr. Moriarty, records show Dorothy isn't Miss Hammond. She's been in the UK all along."
"The UK reports suggest Miss Hammond might be her lost sister."
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