ELLA'S POV
The glass house was empty— not even a single trace of Christopher was in sight. I moved further into the house, allowing my eyes to wander around the place.
Sunken living room, serenaded with beige couches. At the far end of the room, was a Picasso painting hung on the wall. My eyes swept over the walls and landed on a strange picture frame.
I closed the distance and in no time, I was a few feet away from the painting. It was the portrait of a woman, who was in her mid -thirties. She looked like a daisy in a field of wild thorns. Gentle with a fierce undertone attached beneath her core.
There was something about her that pulled me in. Her hair. It was like mine— icy gray with black tips. My wolf was unusually calm seeing a picture of another lady in her mates living room.
