ELENA.
The next afternoon, I pulled up to the Lockwood house. The big stone building looks old and cold. The house had always felt like a prison to me, and it has never once felt like home. I sighed, adjusted my jacket, and headed inside.
They must all have been expecting me because the Lockwoods were all in the living room, sitting down, with rigid looks on their faces. I shook my head at how serious they looked. Eliana was the only one who had a fake smile on her face.
At least she was smiling.
They didn't say hello, and I returned the favor; I could feel their hatred in the air. In our world, wolves can smell emotions, and right now, the room smelled like vinegar and old anger. And vinegar represented bitterness in the werewolf community.
I didn't care; I wasn't here to be loved. I
