Page 1 of Savage Surrender

1

BIANCA

Dr. Montgomery didn’t pick me out of a crowd and decide I’d make an interesting experiment. He’s in every cell, every stupid chromosome. If blood gets a vote in who I am, I’m already halfway to becoming him. Maybe more.

My blood feels thick under my skin. Wrong. Like it wants out. I want to claw it free the way I clawed at my neck - open a vein and watch the grass drink everything he gave me.

Part of me votes yes. I let it.

I’m the daughter of a monster.

My gut tells me there’s no maybe about it.

Does my mom know? Has she spent my whole life looking at me and seeing him? Do I have his eyes? Neither of my parents has blue eyes. Winston doesn’t either.

Dad. No. He can’t know. He’s been making the same joke about my appetite since I was four. Every pizza night, every holiday dinner. That’s my girl. He claimed credit for my intelligence the second I learned the alphabet before the other kids - apparently the greatest academic achievement in Quinn family history.

Owen’s rough palm is warm against my cheek. When did he move closer? His dark eyes are fixed on mine.

“Back up.” His breath brushes my face. “What do you mean, he wants you to get pregnant?”

A laugh tears out of me, harsh enough to startle a bird from the tree above us. It bolts into the sky and disappears past the rooftops across the street. Lucky little asshole gets to leave.

“I mean exactly what I said. He wants to turn me into a baby factory for whatever sick purpose he’s come up with. The generous offer: I get pregnant during my next heat, or he hands your fathers access to Whitney’s eggs so they can grow the next generation of heirs.”

I watch their faces. Owen goes still. Freddie looks at the ground. Nobody says what the fuck. Nobody says anything.

“Wait. You already knew?”

“Not about him wanting you pregnant, baby.” Freddie says it carefully. “They threatened to use her eggs at dinner, but we⁠—”

“You knew and didn’t tell me.”

How long were they going to let me sit in that house with Whitney’s ghost while these fucking assholes made plans? Until one of those children existed? Would they have told me then?

Weller touches my arm. “We knew about the threat. We didn’t know whether they had the material or the ability to use it.” He says it like a briefing. I don’t think he hears how flat it lands.

“Were you planning to share any of that with me?”

“We were planning to stop it before we needed to,” Owen says.

I turn on him. “That’s bullshit, Owen, and you know it.”

“It’s not bullshit, Princess.” His jaw locks around Princess. “Look at you. You don’t sleep. You barely laugh. Every new piece of shit they pile on you makes me want to kill someone.”

“So you made another decision for me because I look tired?”

“No.” He steps closer. “We decided it’s not going to fucking happen, so you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it.”

“We’ve done this before. Five years ago, you let me believe everything was fine. Look what happened.”

“You’re right. We fucked up,” Freddie says quietly. “We thought if we handled it before it became real, you wouldn’t have to carry this too.”

“Thanks for caring. I’m a grown woman, Freddie. I decide what I can handle.” I sound steadier than I feel. “Keep coddling me until I don’t know what room I’m walking into? I can’t do that again.”

He frowns, like I’m the one being unreasonable.

Tristan cuts in. “Based on what we found, I think it’s plausible that Whitney isn’t Montgomery’s biological daughter. If that’s true, the eggs won’t give our fathers what they want.”