Page 121 of Bitter Truths

“Maybe a day after they return before they realize we’ve been... non-compliant.” I scrub my face with both hands. “Then they’ll probably up the dosages and keep us locked up.”

“We’re so fucked,” Tristan mutters.

“So is she,” Freddie says. “Whitney is going to lose her fucking mind.”

The idea of her touching Bianca…

“What’s the deal with her knuckles?” Tristan asks.

“Maybe she found a gym,” Freddie suggests. “Got hurt sparring…”

“She was dicey about it,” I say. “If it was the gym, wouldn’t she have just said so?”

The girl who used to tell us every detail of her day now guards her thoughts like they’re classified and we’re the enemy. Part of me wants to shake them out of her, pin her down until she confesses every lie, every evasion, every dangerous thing she’s done.

But a bigger part of me is proud as hell.

She learned to survive in a world that tried to break her.

I do need to find out what the little princess has been hiding, though.

The bedroom door opens, and Weller emerges. His hair’s messed up, shirt wrinkled.

“How is she?” Freddie asks immediately.

Weller’s throat works. “She woke up while I was cleaning her. Asked...”

“Asked what?”

“Asked if we’d sleep with her tonight.”

The air leaves my lungs. She wants us close.

The thought of her warm and sleepy between us makes my cock hard again. I want to feel every curve of her body pressed against mine and wake up with her scent on my skin.

“Fuck.” Tristan scrubs his face with both hands. “This is torture.”

Weller nods grimly. “Whitney’s not calling tonight. Told her we have meetings in the morning and need sleep.”

One night. One fucking night without having to pretend we belong to that bitch instead of the woman sleeping in the next room.

“We need to have a discussion with Bianca tomorrow,” Weller stands, heading toward the bedroom. “But tonight, we have this. Let’s go give our omega what she wants.”

Our omega.

One night to memorize the feel of her breathing beside us… getting a glimpse at what it would feel like to belong to her, and only her.

I follow him toward the bedroom, Freddie and Tristan behind me.

She’s curled on her side under the covers, wearing one of our t-shirts. Her long golden hair spills across the pillow, and her face is peaceful.

Mine.

The overwhelming urge to grab her and run crashes over me again. To hell with consequences. To hell with all of it, except her. I want to take her somewhere they’ll never find us.

The words echo as I strip down to boxers and slide into bed beside her. She murmurs sleepily and turns toward my warmth. Every possessive instinct I have roars to life.

She shifts closer, her body seeking mine. I press a soft kiss to her forehead, the gesture so fucking tender it breaks me a little.