Page 148 of Bitter Truths

Security footage. The spa’s lounge, where Whitney is approaching a figure in a plush robe.

Bianca.

My girl, looking like she’s asleep while Whitney stands over her. I watch her posture change, shoulders squaring, chin lifting. Even in the grainy footage, the defiance blazing in her eyes is obvious.

My chest swells with pride. Mine.

“Watch this part,” Whitney breathes, her voice thick with excitement. “This is where your little pet shows her true colors.”

On screen, Whitney slides into the chair beside Bianca without invitation. They exchange words, and I can tell Bianca is trying to remain calm, trying to de-escalate. She shifts slightly, angling toward the exit.

Whitney’s hand shoots out, grabbing Bianca’s wrist, which she surprisingly doesn’t react to.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Whitney’s voice carries through the phone’s speaker. “It’s been what... five years? I’d love to catch up with my oldest friend.”

Bianca tries to pull away, but Whitney’s nails dig deeper.

Then Whitney does something that makes my blood boil. She inhales, deep and deliberate, right in Bianca’s space.

“You smell like...” Whitney murmurs on the video, eyes narrowing as she studies Bianca’s face. Then she leans in again, breathing deeper.

Her face transforms as recognition hits.

“You fucking smell like them,” Whitney snarls. “I can smell all four of them on you. Did you fuck them?”

My blood turns molten. Even through a phone speaker, hearing Whitney talk about our scent on Bianca makes something primitive roar to life in my chest.

The confirmation that others can smell us on her… is just too fucking good.

Aside from the terrible circumstances.

Bianca keeps her expression blank. Bored, even. “That’s quite an imagination you have there.”

Whitney’s grip tightens. “You’re desperate enough to let bonded alphas fuck you?”

“Desperate? Which one of us had to drug alphas to make them want her, Whitney?”

Fuck. Yes. My savage, brilliant omega going straight for the throat.

Whitney explodes. “You’re fucking dead. They’re mine. They’ve always been mine.”

“Are they?” Bianca tilts her head with deadly calm. “Funny, I heard you don’t mind lending them out.”

That’s when Whitney’s composure completely shatters. Something clicks behind her eyes. “How do you—” She cuts herself off, studying Bianca with dawning realization.

Bianca gives her the most devastating smile I’ve ever seen.

“You’re delusional if you think this means anything,” Whitney snarls. “You’re a broken toy, Bianca. An omega who’ll never be whole. They might fuck you out of pity, but they’ll never want someone as damaged as you.”

Rage floods through me, so hot and fast I see red. How dare she call the woman who is our everything damaged.

But Bianca... Christ, Bianca just rises calmly and lets her robe drop to the floor.

She’s completely naked, with perfect curves and soft skin marked by evidence of our claiming. Bruises on her hips where we gripped her and marks scattered across her throat, breasts, and body like a map of our madness.

My cock goes painfully hard at the sight. Beside me, Owen makes a sound that’s half growl, half moan. The scent of alpha arousal floods the basement.

On screen, Bianca spins slowly, displaying every mark we left on her body—evidence of our desperate need.