Page 30 of Bitter Truths

The protein bar she left on my nightstand sits untouched. Just thinking about food makes me nauseous.

Dr. Montgomery’s words circle my brain like vultures. Your omega will never awaken.

I haven’t had the heart to tell my mom the ugly truth.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.

Three days without hearing from them. Three days of silence that gets heavier every hour. The last thing they knew about me was that I fell at the party and got hurt. Nothing about what I needed to tell them. Nothing about us.

What are they doing right now? Are they thinking about me too?

My phone sits dead on the nightstand. There’s no point in checking it—we’re buried so deep in these mountains that civilization might as well be on another planet.

“Bianca.” Mom sits on the edge of my bunk, the mattress dipping. “Talk to me.”

I can’t.

She reaches over, brushing my hair away from my face.

“Whatever it is,” she says quietly, “it’ll be okay.”

I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her so badly it hurts.

She squeezes my shoulder. “Roger mentioned there’s a ridge about three miles from here. Sometimes hikers pick up cell service there.”

My head snaps up. “Seriously?”

“If the weather clears tomorrow, you could hike up there.” Her eyes search my face. “Is that what you need? To make some calls?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do.”

The trail winds upward through a forest still dripping from the storm. Mom packed me trail mix, a protein bar, and water this morning, along with Roger’s hand-drawn map and strict instructions to stay on the marked path. Four hours max, she’d said, blue blazes to the fork, then right to the ridge. I promised to be careful, to pay attention, and to keep my phone off until I reached the overlook to save battery.

But careful is the last thing I feel as mud sucks at my boots with every step. My legs shake. It’s been three days of very little eating or sleeping… anxiety swallowing me whole and holding me captive.

I have to stop twice to catch my breath, leaning against wet tree trunks while my heart pounds so loud, it’s the only thing I can hear.

By the time I see the rocky outcropping ahead, my lungs are on fire.

The ridge opens up before me—a jagged shelf of stone jutting over the valley. Mountains roll into the distance, still shrouded in mist. Under different circumstances, it might be beautiful.

But I didn’t come here for the view.

My hands are practically vibrating with nerves as I pull out my phone and power it on. The screen lights up, searching for a signal.

Nothing.

I move across the rocky ledge, arm stretched high, turning in slow circles. Come on. Please. I need this. I need them.

One bar flickers into existence. Disappears. Comes back.

I freeze, afraid to breathe and lose it. Messages start downloading, the phone buzzing against my palm like a trapped insect.

My eyes scan desperately for their names in the notifications. Group chat. Freddie. Owen. Tristan. Weller. Anyone.

Nothing from them.