The sound of three thousand dollars’ worth of Italian wool tearing apart was entirely eclipsed by the sickening crunch of Michael’s spine elongating.
The penthouse floor dropped another two feet. A violent, shrieking groan of stressed steel echoed through the red-lit room. A single crystal whiskey glass—one of the few Ryan hadn’t broken during his posturing—rolled down the newly formed incline, hitting the far wall and exploding into diamond-like dust.
Michael’s transformation wasn’t majestic. It was a violent, bone-snapping horror show. His jaw unhinged, pushing forward into a massive, dark snout. Black fur ripped through his skin, thick and matted with the blood he had just shed. His bespoke shirt shredded into useless white ribbons, fluttering to the floor like surrender flags. The So
