AZRAEL
I look at him again — at his pathetic face, barely capable of holding it together.
In a swift motion, I have my hands reaching out to the back of his head, and I slam it right into the table between us, shattering through the wood and leaving a head-shaped hole.
He yells in pain, shaking like a leaf in the wind while attempting to break free from me — which he quickly realizes is impossible.
"35 years of being an Alpha, and you're unable to come up with a better excuse for why you have no idea what direction the attack came from, or why you had much fewer casualties than other packs." I repeat again, showing my utter disappointment in him.
I thought wisdom came with age. Or is that something old people tell kids just so they listen to them?
"I have a theory that puts it all together. Would you like to hear it?"
