Page 23 of Bitter Truths

My confession dies mid-sentence—the moment shattered.

She passes shots to each of us.

I suppress a frustrated groan. “Thanks, but⁠—”

“Come on, don’t be lame,” she insists, pressing the glass into my hand. “We’ll never get to enjoy tonight again.”

“Cheers to us!” She throws hers back, watching expectantly. I look at the guys and shrug, tilting my head back to drink. They do the same.

“Thanks, Whit.”

“Sorry! Carry on.” She backs away with an apologetic gesture. “Find me later!”

The alphas’ attention lingers on her retreating form before returning to me.

“As I was saying... this might sound crazy, but⁠—”

“Bianca Quinn!” A male voice shouts behind me.

I twist to see Jack Chambers, quarterback and certified idiot, stumbling toward me. His eyes are glassy from whatever he’s been drinking.

“Jack,” I acknowledge.

“Whitney told me you were hiding over here. Come dance!” He reaches for my arm, missing by inches.

“I’m good here, thanks.”

He sways, oblivious to the irritation rolling off the alphas. Maybe oblivious to the alphas entirely. He hasn’t acknowledged their presence once... must be pretty drunk to miss the low rumble charging the air.

“One dance... for old time’s sake.”

“There is no old time’s sake,” I remind him. “We’ve had a few classes together…”

“Right, right...” He chuckles, taking another step. “Because your brother and the guard dogs scared everyone off. You’re fucking gorgeous, though, so might as well shoot my shot.”

Owen rises, looming over Jack. “Walk away right fucking now.”

Jack blinks, registering the alphas. “Fuck—shit, sorry, didn’t see you there.” He backs up, stumbling over his own feet. “No harm meant, just⁠—”

His elbow catches my shoulder as he flails for balance. His drink splashes on me, soaking the blue fabric. The momentum knocks me sideways.

Time slows. My heel catches on the pool coping, and I pitch backward.

My cheekbone slams against the stone edge as I fall. Pain shoots through my head. Then cold water swallows me, muffling the world.

I sink for a moment before instinct kicks in. My legs thrash. My head breaks the surface, lungs gasping for air.

Hands reach for me. Strong arms haul me from the water. Owen hovers above me, fury and concern battling on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he roars at Jack, who has backed several paces away.

“It was an accident,” Jack stammers. “She fell⁠—”

“Because you ran into her, asshole.” Owen lunges forward.

Weller moves to block his path. “If you start, you won’t stop. Cool down. We need to take care of Bianca.”

“You’re bleeding.” Freddie wraps a towel around my shoulders, settling next to me. I lean into him.