In Wolfs Clothing

In Seattle, Jonathan didn’t know where he was headed. As a young man, everything around him seemed to change by the second. What he once viewed as a quaint city now felt bigger than New York. But amidst the chaos and sprawl, Jonathan saw opportunity—the chance to meet people from every walk of life. To find his pack.

As a child, his family called him "the wolf"—and no, not the one from Wall Street. It ran deeper than that. Jonathan was always a bit of a loner. But to his mother, it meant more: he was strength, love, compassion—a natural leader. She believed he could be something the world desperately needed. Still, a part of her feared that same heart would lead him to an early death... or worse, to question if life was worth living at all.

It all began to click for Jonathan in college. Despite the coldness of the world, he couldn’t help but love it—and the people in it—even when they didn’t return the favor.

“Hey Raymond, can I ask you something?” Jonathan turned to his classmate during a break.

Raymond, munching on Cheetos Puffs, glanced over. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Do you ever feel like… you’re destined for something? Like everything you do matters somehow, and if you mess it up, it could affect everyone?”

Raymond smirked. “Classic lone wolf talk. Look man, I felt the same way once. But things change. One day, poof! You find your pack. And sometimes its not even the pac you thought you would have. Trust me.”

“Yeah… maybe,” Jonathan muttered, unconvinced.

That lingering doubt haunted him. The fear that he might one day die completely alone. Not like some quirky cat lady. No. Alone in total darkness—on a hospital bed, forgotten, fed food worse than prison chow.

The bell rang. Jonathan slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped into the hallway. A ghost in a crowd. No one noticed. Not even when he smiled—a smile he'd perfected in the mirror a hundred times. It was like he didn’t exist.

At the bus stop, he tried to distract himself with a manga. But a strange smell hit him—ten blocks west. Iron. Blood. He stood up.

“Better to walk than wait on a late bus,” he said to himself.

As he drew closer, the scent grew stronger. He could feel something… a heartbeat? It was faint, but it was there.

His mother had always warned him about Friday night classes near Capitol Hill. “That’s when the freaks come out,” she’d say. But until now, Jonathan had only ever seen drunk partiers acting foolish; boys picking fights with Bouncers and girls so intoxicated, stumbling over curbs on the street.

Then he saw it. Around the alley corner, a streak of blood stretched across the concrete like someone had used a massive paintbrush. It didn’t look real—more like a comic book crime scene.

A scream tore through the air, freezing Jonathan in place.

“Help… Help me…” called a voice.

He pressed his back to the wall.

“Please… I know you’re there.”

Jonathan’s heart raced. “How do they know I’m here?”

“I can smell you,” the voice rasped. “You smell like Old Spice… and fear. Now are you going to stand there all night or help me?”

Jonathan peeked around the corner. A woman slumped against the alley wall, covered in gashes. Blood—black as ink—oozed from her shoulder.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jonathan asked, rushing to help her. “I’ll call 911—”

“No!” she snapped. “Not yet. First, we need to get somewhere safe.”

“What could be safer than an ambulance?”

“No! If they find out what I am—or what you are—there’ll be nowhere safe yo go.”

She leaned on him as they walked deeper into the alley. It seemed to stretch longer than it should’ve, like something from a dream—or a nightmare.

“What did you mean back there? About what we really are?” he asked.

“You’re a pup. That’s obvious,” she chuckled. “I’m surprised any of you survived to adulthood.”

“Pup? I’m not a kid! You barely look older than me.”

“Thanks for the compliment. But I’ve seen more moons than the fiercest grey wolf.”

Suddenly, she shoved aside a metal dumpster—something no human could move alone—and revealed a hidden hatch.

“How… how did you do that?” Jonathan asked, stunned.

“No time. Get in.”

“That pitch-black hole? Seriously?”

“If you do, I’ll tell you a secret about yourself you’ve never even guessed. Hell, I might even give you a Scooby Snack.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes, but something deep in him stirred. Maybe this was the moment—the truth he’d always felt clawing at his insides. He dropped in after her. Darkness swallowed him.

“I can’t see anything.”

“Focus,” she said. “Control your breathing. Sync it with your heartbeat. Then open your eyes.”

He obeyed. When he opened them, he could see everything—without light.

“What… how is this possible?” Jonathan said, now staring at a mirror in the dark where all that would be revealed was his glowing eyes.

“Cutting to the chase,” she said, wincing. “You’re—” She doubled over, coughing blood.

“What am I?”

“No time. Grab that needle and thread. Stitch me up.”

Jonathan hesitated at the sight of the tools—sharper than any kitchenware—but still hd done what the woman asked of him. He’d sewn his own ripped jeans before. So, it couldn’t have been that different, and so he hoped.

He sewed slowly, his hands growing slick with her blood. But something changed. The scent. The hunger.

His skin burned. His heart pounded. His nails had grown. Too long. Too sharp.

“Oh boy,” the woman muttered. “Looks like the pup has come out to play.”

Jonathan stared at his hands. Trembling. Shifting. “What’s happening to me?”

“Here. Drink this.”

She handed him a cup. It smelled vile—like piss in a cup.

“What is this?”

“You don’t want to know. Just trust me.”

Jonathan then drank from the cup, and it burned down his throat like a mixture of lemon and ginger.

Gradually, his breathing slowed. His nails shrank. The fire in his chest faded.

“What’s happening to me?” he asked again.

“You’re a werewolf,” she said. “But not like in the movies. You can shift anytime—day or night. And you know why my friends… Because you are of royal blood..”

“Royalty? I’m nobody... Hell, my father wasn’t shit either.”

The woman laughed. “You mean your father told you nothing?”

No… We, didn’t talk much. You know. He was the strong silent type. Only showed his feelings through lessons, but can’t say they haven’t been my blessings. They’ve kept me out of a lot shit.”

“Sit,” said the woman.

“Why?”

“Just do it. I need to see something.”

The woman examined his face with cold, dry hands, which felt like the skin of a hairless cat.

“What are your parents' names?”

“Sasha and Scott Barclay.”

The woman froze, but breath trembled at the ends of her lips.

“What’s wrong?”Jonathan asked.

“We need to get you out of Seattle. Now.”

“No! Not until you tell me what happened to you.”

“We call him Bram. He wants to wipe out all royal bloodlines. You could say he’s been pissed off for a very long time. You see, Bram is only half of royalty. A bastard some would say. Good thing for the both of us, he can’t change during the day time due to this. ”

“NJesus… I need to warn my parents—”

“It’s too late,” she whispered, darkly. “They’re gone.”

Jonathan fell to his knees. He was alone. No family. No one left. But still he had hope—that opportunity of the city he always felt tickling the hairs of on the back of his neck, whispering to him—keep going.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the woman said softly. “But you’re stronger than you know. And you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

“No. Bram is mine… I’m taking out the big bad wolf myself.”

The woman bursted out into a laughter mixed with a howl.

“Don’t be stupid! Bram will tear you apart. You don’t even know what he looks like. So, how could you ever find him on your own?”

“You said it yourself. All I need to do is focus, right?” Jonathan said with sarcasm.

The woman smiled, eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room like a lioness in the night. Jonathan was a quick learner, and she liked that about him.

“Clever... Well, I guess sense we will be partners in all of this, you should know who I am. The name’s Fiona, princess of the House of Yellowtooth.”

“Its nice to meet—”

Suddenly, the ceiling above would cave in—dust and debris, swallowing Jonathan and Fiona like a tornado.

“What the hell?” Jonathan yelled.

“Don’t move,” Fiona ordered. Her eyes bounced from every corner of the room like a game of pong.

From the shadows, two glowing dark purple eyes emerged, filled with an evil that made everything in life feel still.

“Well, well,” said a groggy voice. “Didn’t think I’d find the princess of the House of Yellowtooth hiding here. And with another I see. Have you moved on already baby…””

Jonathan turned to Fiona.

“You two had a thing?” he asked.

She nodded—but then leapt in front of him, teeth bared like razor blades taped together.

“This won’t go the way you think, Bram,” she growled.

The creature stepped into the light. Bram. A twisted, monstrous figure. Not purebred. Something worse. An abomination—one who’d fed on countless hearts, growing stronger with every kill.

“No… It was you all this time,” Jonathan said. It was his classmate from before, Raymond, but no longer the handsome young man all the girls drooled over in their History class.

Raymond, no, Bram grinned. “What can I say? I’ve got a big appetite. Let's just say the Cheeto puffs were never enough.”

“Why did you do it?” Johnathan growled through clenched teeth.

Bram smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. To him, it was a ridiculous question—naïve, even. What other reason could there be? He was a killer, a monster who reveled in destruction. He killed because he could. Because it felt good. Because it was what made him feel royal.

“Say something, you bastard!” Johnathan shouted.

Fiona watched, struck by the force emanating from Johnathan. Despite Bram’s hulking presence, it was Johnathan who held the stronger aura. Bram noticed too—but he wasn’t one to back down from a fight. He had something to probe and Jonathan didn't. And so, he thought.

“Ha! Adorable,” Bram chuckled. “Still a pup, and yet you bare your fangs like a leader. Do you even have a pack? Oh, wait, yeah, that’s right. You don’t do you?”

Johnathan didn’t respond. His eyes hit the floor, sadness pulling down his hair over his eyes.

“That’s right,” Bram sneered. “I forgot—I slaughtered the only pack you had. Although, I will say that your old man put up quite the fight. Thankfully, though, you full breeds have a weakness.”’

"Johnathan had already guessed it in his mind—silver. It was talked about it in every werewolf movie, but surprisingly this wouldn’t be it.

With a roar, Johnathan launched himself at Bram, hatred blazing in his eyes. The two collided with primal force, like titans locked in battle. But Bram stood firm—unyielding.

And then Jonathan felt himself fill weak at the knees, a draining of power indescribable.

There was something glowing in the pocket of Brams pants. A orange and yellow tone as if he were holding the sun captive.

“That all you got, boy? What’s wrong you feeling a little sick.” Bram mocked. He pulled out the ball of light and Jognathan would instantly lose the strength in his grip. He let go of Bram and gave in to his domination.

“Leave him alone!” Fiona cried, slashing at Bram. But she’d missed entirely, hitting nothing but the wind to almost herself square in the face. Her nails were that long.

In a heartbeat, Bram had them both by the throat. With brutal ease, he slammed them to the ground.

“Mmm… so sweet,” he murmured, tasting the blood from Fiona’s wound. His eyes rolled back in delight, eye lids fluttering like the wings on a butterfly or even a humming bird. “After I’m done killing the boy, I think I’ll make you my bride.”

Fiona spat in Brams face. He didn’t flinch. His calm was more terrifying than rage—a predator savoring his kill, and unwilling to lose sight of it.

“What the hell is that thing?” Jonathan asked.

“Something none of you could ever fathom. Its is the ultimate Royal killer. I call it Cahya. And she will see that all to exist will be yours truly.”

“You’ve gone mad!” Johnathan panicked.

Fiona remained silent through, out the entire conversation, awed by what she was seeing. And then she’d felt the urge to ask.

“How did you get that Bram?” she asked.

Bram smiled, teeth so sharp that it cut into his own lips.

“Well… Lets just say you’re not the only one who has a pack. I mean, mine aren’t quite like us at all, but they are still more resourceful than anything. I give them protection, and they find me the things that I desire.”

“So it’s just that simple huh?” Johnathan rasped. “Why kill your own kind? Why kill your only friend?”

“Own kind? Friend?” Bram scoffed. “How much do you know about the royal bloodline, Jonathan?”

“I know we can transform fully. And I know that you wish you could,” Johnathan said, defiant. “

Bram’s right eye then twitched with darkness. Without warning, he hurled Johnathan across the room. A rusted pipe skewered his side. Agony surged through him like a thousand daggers. Blood filled his mouth. For a moment, he thought Death had come—but it was just Bram. Not the reaper.

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Bram asked.

Johnathan could barely say a word now. His vision was blurred and he was beginning to see that same light we all do when our time comes. But sadly, there was no angel present, just still Bram—the devils hound.

“Smartass,” Bram growled. “Fine. Let’s speak the truth, since your family's already paid in blood.”

“Go to hell…” Johnathan spat.

“Bram, don’t!” Fiona cried.

“Silence, witch! Let me and the pup talk,” Bram snapped.

Fiona shook with fury and fear. Bram was untouchable. There was nothing she could do but watch.

“Your parents were killers. Just like the other royals. They murdered anyone not of royal blood to keep their power. Ruthless. Arrogant. And when the consequences came knocking, they ran, leaving everything—including you.”

“No!” Johnathan cried. “You’re lying!”

“Then why hide it from you?”

“They were protecting me!”

“They were cowards!” Bram said.

Johnathan dangled from the pipe like a tattered flag. His body numb, his heart shattered, blood dripping to the floor becoming a puddle beneath him. And then tears carved down his cheek, making their way down to the darkness of his blood. It become a pinkish red now.

Every wordJonathan tried to say failed. Only blood came from his shivering lips.

“This is it…” he whispered the voice in his head. “This is how it ends…”

“Any last words?” Bram asked, with a grinch like smile.

Suddenly, Johnathan laughed—a wild, broken cackle.

“Johnathan…” Fiona whispered, horrified.

He tore himself off the pipe. The wound sealed within seconds.

“What the—” Bram staggered.

“What’s wrong, old man?” Johnathan asked, his body shifting. “Thought I was just a pup?”

“Old man!? I’ll—”

In a blink, Johnathan was behind Bram, shielding Fiona.

“Incredible…” Bram muttered. “You’ve awakened your full form. Won’t matter. I’ve crushed royals like you before. I still have Cahya! ”

A full wolf stood between them—golden eyes, a lion-like mane, and a form twice as massive as Bram’s. It was as if the Hulk and a werewolf had a baby.

“Come on then!” Bram roared. “Show me what you’ve got!”

They clashed. And for the first time, Bram felt fear shaking within his arms and legs.

Johnathan moved like lightning—precise, relentless.

“He’s too fast…” Bram gasped. “I can’t see him… Little shit!”

“What’s the matter?” Fiona asked. “Wolf got your tongue?”

“Shut up!” Bram snapped. “That’s not even how the saying goes—enough of this!”

He howled—a deep, dreadful sound that echoed across Seattle.

Sirens. Screams. Chaos.

“What did you do?” Johnathan demanded.

“Called some friends. Something you wouldn’t understand—being packless,” Bram sneered.

“Johnathan, finish him! Before—”

Too late. Four colossal wolves appeared, descending like shadows.

“Meet my pack,” Bram grinned. “This is—”

“I don’t care!” Johnathan barked. “I’ve got nothing left to lose. So forgive me if I’m not in the mood for conversation!”

Fiona watched him—no longer a boy, but a warrior with fire in his soul.

“Ooh, I like this one,” said the smallest wolf—a scarred, deadly female.

“No,” Bram interrupted. “Proposition first. Then he’s yours. But now—help your sister.”

“Sister?!” Johnathan blinked.

“Reyna,” Fiona said, her becoming instantly teary.

Fiona and Reyna—same eyes. Same blood.

“I’ve always protected him…” Reyna whispered.

“Why are you with him?” Fiona asked.

“You wouldn’t understand. Just stay quiet before he kills us both,” Reyna replied.

“He’d be doing us a favor,” Fiona muttered.

A Bram turned to Johnathan.

“Join me. Fiona becomes my bride and you’ll become my right hand man. Refuse—and she still becomes my bride.”

Johnathan smiled.

“Oh? That amuses you?”

“No. It’s just that you already know my answer.”

Bram did. But Johnathan’s power was fading. Royal blood couldn’t maintain wolf form forever.

Only Bram’s kind could, which none could ever fathom seeing how he was half human. Without a doubt, the laws of nature were confusing at times.

“Fine. Boys?” Bram said.

“With pleasure,” they replied.

“Wait—he’s mine!” Reyna protested.

“Declined Reyna. For now, I need you beside me,” Bram whispered.

“Anything for you…” Reyna breathed, brokenly.

Fiona lunged—but Reyna struck her down. And Johnathan not long after would be restrained.

“Let’s introduce ourselves,” said one of the wolves. It was as black as coal, eyes emerald with nails too big for its own paws.

“I’m Majora. That’s Link. And that’s Zelda.”

“You’re kidding… Like the video game?” Johnathan asked.

“What video game?” Link blinked.

“No clue,” Zelda shrugged.

“Jesus… No wonder you aren’t royal.” Johnathan muttered.

Majora attacked. Johnathan dodged. Then Zelda. Then Link. Each strike drained him.

“He’s wearing out,” Majora said.

“Time to finish him,” Link said.

“You’re always hungry,” Zelda teased.

“Shut up!” Johnathan shouted. “This ends now!”

In a blur, he zipped through—slitting Majora’s throat.

The others froze. Blood pooled.

They bowed.

TO BE CONTINUED