Estelle's POV
I pulled my phone away from my ear.
"f*******:?" I frowned.
Deep in my consciousness, my wolf twitched its ears. A faint, indescribable premonition crept up my spine.
I opened f*******:, and almost instantly my feed was flooded with the same video. Several major accounts with millions of followers had reposted it at the same time, pushing it straight to the top of the homepage.
I clicked on the video and smiled.
Everything that had happened outside the airport yesterday afternoon had been re-edited—or rather, meticulously stitched together. In the footage, Melody looked fragile and pale, her eyes red-rimmed like a startled fawn. As for me, I looked like a she-wolf who had suddenly snapped—cold, dangerous—slapping her across the face without warning.
Quite interesting.
