Page 146 of Bitter Truths

A laugh escapes me because we all reek of jealousy now. “You make a good point though, Weller. I need to establish a safe word with her.”

Owen hums at the thought of that. I can already see his mind working.

“Whitney is on edge,” Freddie changes the subject. “I hope she doesn’t go after Bianca.”

I close my eyes and replay the scene. Whitney storming through our quarters at three in the morning, blonde hair disheveled, designer clothes wrinkled from travel. But it was her eyes that gave her away. Bloodshot and wired. Like a woman on the edge of losing everything.

Then she got it in her head that we had something to do with Rebecca, Liz, and Katie not answering her the last few days.

Which I guess we did, but not because we touched them ourselves.

The thought fills me with dark satisfaction. Our omega, dismantling her support system. I would still really like to know what she did. No one has heard from any of them.

And my father is pissed.

A bitter laugh escapes me. “The irony is beautiful, really. We went to her parents’ house to question her about Whitney’s friends, and she completely flipped the script. Had us chasing her through the woods like animals in heat instead of getting a single answer.”

“Can’t say I hate her strategy,” Owen says darkly.

For a while, each of us is lost in our own hell, knowing what’s coming.

“Montgomery will be here soon,” Freddie finally breaks the quiet. “Once that happens...”

Once that happens, we’ll be good little puppets again. Responsive to Whitney’s every command. Unable to resist when she orders us to touch her, perform for her twisted entertainment, and whatever the fuck else she comes up with.

The thought of putting my hands on Whitney after touching Bianca makes my throat burn.

Nausea builds. “I can’t touch her again… not after Bianca.”

It’s too repulsive to consider.

“Once the chemicals take over, we won’t have a choice,” Weller states brutally.

He’s right. Most frustrating fucking feeling in the world.

Back to being dead inside. Numb. Depressed every waking moment. After having this taste of what life could be with Bianca, going back feels like dying.

“She’s going to hate us if we fuck Whitney again,” Owen says, his voice hollow. His fist slams into the cage bars with a sickening crack.

We’re all suddenly drowning in that truth.

And that’s exactly how Whitney would try to destroy her for good too. She’d send another fucking video… but make it worse. More degrading. More soul-destroying.

I’d rather die than let her experience that.

Whitney had mentioned last night how she’d tried to come back early, but her father wouldn’t let her due to business obligations. How paranoid she was that something had happened while she was gone.

We’d told her she was being ridiculous. That we’d been in business meetings ourselves, that nothing had changed.

All lies, of course.

We were really fucking lucky to get the time we did with Bianca.

Suddenly, there are footsteps echoing in the house above us. Purposeful. Deliberate. Heading our way.

Dr. Montgomery?

Whitney?