Page 151 of Bitter Truths

And that’s what I’m going to do.

My mind flashes to Whitney and me as kids, running wild through these trees, telling ghost stories and building shitty forts that collapsed after one rain. We mapped those tunnels under her house and explored them for hours. Crazy how those stupid childhood games might actually save my alphas now.

The massive oak looms ahead, darker than the night around it. My heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat as I drop to my knees beside it.

"Be here, be here," I mutter, digging through wet leaves and debris.

The key should be here... unless someone removed it.

My fingers hit something solid. Holy shit.

I pull the tarnished key from its hiding place, dirt crumbling all over me. I turn the key in my palm, unable to believe that it's still here after all this time.

Time to move. Every minute I waste, Whitney has them, and after our run-in earlier, I’m worried. I hadn’t meant to escalate things, but I let her crawl under my skin and take up residence… like she’s been doing for over five years now.

Twisted bitch.

My stomach knots with a mix of rage and fear that's becoming way too familiar.

The tunnel entrance is close, hidden behind a wall of overgrown shrubs. I push through leaves, thorny branches scratching my face, until I find it... the rusted metal door set into a hill.

The lock fights me, scraping with rust as I turn the key. For a second, I think it's broken, that I'm fucked before I even start, but then it clicks.

Thank fuck.

Stale air rushes out, carrying the smell of damp concrete and moldy childhood memories. I switch on my phone's flashlight, revealing walls that disappear into darkness.

I never imagined I’d be using these tunnels to infiltrate.

I slip inside, pulling the door shut behind me. The darkness swallows me whole, except for the thin beam of light. Air presses against my skin, heavy and cold, making it hard to breathe. Each footstep echoes despite my attempts to move like a ghost.

Memories hit with every step... Whitney leading the way, blonde hair swinging in a ponytail as we explored. Our laughter bounced off the walls as we claimed this underground kingdom. That time we got lost for hours, both of us too scared to admit we were terrified. The marks we painted after that... crude arrows... so we’d never get lost again.

I reach a fork and freeze. Left or right? Shit. Panic spikes in my chest before my light finds a faded arrow pointing left. Thank God for our paranoid younger selves. I follow the mark, tension easing slightly when the tunnel slopes upward.

After ten minutes of careful navigation, I reach the maintenance door that leads to the basement. I press my ear against the cool metal, listening for any sound from the other side. Nothing. I insert the key with trembling fingers and turn it slowly, wincing at the soft click of the lock disengaging.

This is my last chance to turn back.

I push the door open; there is no other option than to do whatever it takes to save them from her.

The basement hits me with bright, clinical light after the tunnel darkness. But what I see stops me cold.

Cages. Actual fucking cages. Human-sized. Empty now, but the dried bloodstains on the concrete floor tell their own story. My stomach heaves, acid burning up my throat.

The scent hits me next… mine. Their distress lingers here, soaked into the concrete and metal. Fear. Pain. Anger. All of it preserved like some sick museum exhibit.

Tools hang on the wall… things I don’t want to imagine being used on them.

This... this is a fucking nightmare hidden behind expensive furniture and designer curtains. The staircase to the first floor calls to me.

My heart is pounding out of my chest.

I move silently, avoiding the security cameras positioned in the corners.

The main floor is eerily quiet as I slip from shadow to shadow, my knife ready just in case. Every sound makes me freeze, count to three, then move again.

I know the alphas must be here somewhere. Whitney mentioned having some kind of party tonight…