Melanie's POV
I froze, my breath hitching in my chest. Even though Trista was still young, I had always respected her privacy; ever since she got her first phone, I had never once succumbed to the urge to snoop.
But seeing that name—Camille—flashing on the screen like a neon sign of my own failure, I felt a sharp, jagged pull at my heart.
My hand moved of its own accord.
I picked up the phone, my fingers trembling.
My inner wolf paced restlessly, a low, pained whine echoing in the back of my mind.
She could sense it too: the scent of an outsider encroaching on our bond.
As I scrolled through the chat, the weight of the betrayal settled in my stomach like lead.
I finally understood why Trista had been so prickly and cold with me all morning.
Every day started with a "good morning"
