I took in a rescue dog. One of those pit bull-type living meat-weapons. When he had stopped being cute he was made to live in a closet, because otherwise he would bite people.
When I took the rescue dog to my house he bit my arm and my leg and ripped my pants off me while I was still wearing them. But I didn’t put him in a closet. I got him a muzzle and took him for walks in the forest and gave him lots of opportunities to be a good boy.
He bit me a couple more times over the next six months.
Eventually he learned to let his guard down, and allow himself to be touched and hugged. He was socialized with other dogs, and made friends. Soon there was no more muzzle, then no more leash.
Now he is the happiest wiggly good boy in the world.