Chapter 17

• As the second wolf flew free, the first launched itself at Dante's face. Ducking his head, he caught it in the throat, but Dante's teeth clamped down on fur instead of flesh, and it squirmed away. It tried to back off for a second lunge, but Dante, out of aggression, leaped at it, backing it into a tree. It reared up, trying to get out of his way. He slashed for its throat. This time he got his grip. Blood spurted in his mouth, salty and thick. The first wolf landed on Dante's back. His legs buckled. Teeth sunk into the loose skin beneath his skull. Fresh pain arced through him.
• Concentrating hard, he kept his grip on the first wolf's throat. He steadied himself, then released it for a split second, just long enough to make the fatal slash and tear. As he pulled back, blood sprayed into his eyes, blinding him. He swung his head hard, ripping out the coyote's throat. Once he felt it go limp, he tossed it aside, then threw himself on the ground and rolled over. The wolf on Dante's back rose his head in surprise and released its hold. Dante jumped up and turned in the same motion, ready to devour both wolves, but they scrambled up and hopped into the brush. With a flash of nervousness which they got from the attack, they disappeared
• Moreover, he looked at the dead coyote. Guilt and anger blazed through him. Dante has never been one to condone violence because when triggered, he loses his stability. Most times, he excessively reflects on his privilege but not to the point of causing another person's death. Ever since the incident with Freya that faithful night, he gave up on hurting the weak unless when attacked by one.