Book 3: Revenge

Tristan

A swooshing sound in the air alerts me to the fact that something heavy is flying in my direction, before I even hear Reece’s voice shouting in my head, “Watch out!”

I throw the bag toward a nearby rose bush and crouch down just in time to see a brown wolf tumble in front of me. I jump up, not giving him the time he needs to get up and regain his composure before I go for his neck. My teeth sink through the rough mane and into his jugular like a hot knife through butter; blood drips down the fur on my rostrum.

Looking around, I can hear snarling, the sound of pained howls and flesh tearing as they surround the place that was quiet moments ago.

To my right, Mark jumps and body slams his weight into a wolf making its way to Reece. Just as he does, I spot a black wolf jumping down at him from the roof of the abandoned house. How dare they try my ol’ one-two on us. This maneuver is my invention, and I hold the copyrights to such brillianc