Being a werewolf in the 20th century is like being a pup in a pool of kittens. It’s like fighting for your life in a roomful of people wanting you dead. At least that’s what I feel. Being a werewolf is hard, especially if you’re almost 22 with no one by your side. Most of the werewolves from our pack already met their mates before they turned 18. Celebrating their birthday by getting marked is the traditional way of entering womanhood. I was a lone wolf, I’ve never met anyone who’s made my heart beat loud, usually it beats out of anger and rage, I’m yet to experience the love part. Being the hater I am, I resorted to being a scout. I went hunting a couple of days ago. Even though Dad was against it, he doesn’t have a say in my decision. Mom wasn’t enthusiastic about it either. They are pack alphas. Mom and Dad fight side by side to protect our people from vampires, and rogues. There’s a law between werewolves and vampires created centuries ago by old dudes in capes that seals a deal we’re to bring no harm to one another. Of course that’s after a decade of bloodshed and countless wars, they decided lives they lose are not worth the fight. A truce was created to bring peace to the world.