7. Bianca
BIANCA
Wake up.
Pills. Toast I don’t eat. Walk to Dr. Hartwell’s office. Sit. Nod. Walk home. Text Mom.
Sleep. Repeat .
Two weeks of the same shit, and I’m getting good at pretending I’m not a walking corpse.
“How are you feeling today, Bianca?”
Dr. Hartwell sits across from me in her flowery office that smells like a grandma. Her pen’s ready like she’s going to write down something important.
“Fine.”
She does that head tilt thing. “Just fine?”
I shrug. Don’t have anything else to say.
“You seem different today. More...” She searches for a word. “Present.”
Present. Right. Because staring at her ceiling instead of her wall means I’m making progress.
“Have you thought about the group sessions? I think you’d benefit from?—“
“No.” The word comes out harder than I meant.
She scribbles in her little notepad.
We spend the next however long doing our usual dance. She asks about sleep… it sucks. Food… I eat when I’m hungry ( never ). How I’m feeling… like hot garbage. I give her just enough so she doesn’t call my parents.
When the hour’s up, I practically run out of there.
Walking past the community center, I see cars in the parking lot. It’s Thursday. Six o’clock. Group therapy time.
My feet stop without asking my brain first.
Through the windows, I can see people setting up chairs in a circle. Someone’s putting out tissues like they expect everyone to cry.
This is stupid. I don’t want to hear people’s problems. I have enough of my own.
But I’m still standing here.
Fuck it.
Before I can chicken out, I’m pushing through the doors.
The room smells like burnt coffee and sadness. Maybe fifteen people hanging around—mostly women, a couple of guys. All omegas from what I can tell. Everyone looks tired in that bone-deep way.
“First time?” A woman walks up. Gray hair, kind face. “I’m Sarah.”
“Just looking,” I reply awkwardly, fingers curling into my palms.
“Sit anywhere you want. No pressure,” she offers with a reassuring smile.
I grab a chair in the back. Near the door in case I need to bail.
People settle into the circle. Sarah talks about safe spaces and all that bullshit, but I’m not listening.
Then I see him.
This guy sitting across from me looks like that duke from Mom’s stupid TV show. Same dark curls, same jaw. But he’s younger, maybe mid-twenties. And his eyes... promise he’s seen some shit.
What gets me isn’t how he looks, though. It’s how still he is. Like nothing can touch him. Just sitting near him makes me breathe easier, which is weird.
There’s a girl next to him with short red hair. She looks like she might be sick. Pale and thin.
“Would anyone like to share this week?” Sarah asks, her eyes scanning the circle with practiced patience.
A woman starts talking about her alpha beating her. Next, someone shares about her entire pack dying in a car accident.
I’m not sure how group meetings are supposed to help because right now I’m feeling pretty fucking bleak.
Then the calm guy speaks.
“I was on a date with my girlfriend—Lisa. We’d been together since high school.” His voice is steady, like he’s talking about the weather. “Two alphas cornered us in the mall parking lot. They wanted me, but Lisa was screaming, trying to fight them off. So they slit her throat. Right there…”
A few people nod like they’ve heard this before. The girl next to him squeezes his hand.
“Then they took me. Kept me chained in their basement for six months. Used me however they wanted. They told me Lisa died because I fought back. That her blood was on my hands for not submitting quietly.”
Holy shit.
“I spent months thinking they were right. That I killed her by existing. Therapy helped, but what saved me was connecting with others who had experienced similar hardships and understood. Made me feel not so alone.”
The girl beside him talks next. Her voice is soft and sweet.
“My pack bonded with me when I was nineteen. Three alphas I met in high school who said they’d love me forever. Then I found out I have endometriosis. Doctors said I could never have kids.”
Sarah nods encouragingly. This isn’t new information to her.
“My pack decided I was, on second thought, not the love of their life. Found another omega who could give them children. She was pregnant within a year. But I was already bonded, so when they pushed me aside and bonded with her...” Her eyes glitter.
“Bond sickness almost killed me. Two months in the hospital.”
A sharp pang twists inside me.
The meeting goes on, but I can’t focus. These people have been through hell. Real hell. And they’re sitting here, talking about it, helping each other.
They survived.
When it’s over, I sit frozen while people leave. The calm guy walks over with the red-haired girl.
“First time?” he asks, his calm eyes assessing me.
“Last time,” I reply automatically.
“That’s what I said after my first meeting,” he admits, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile.
“What changed your mind?”
“Realizing that surviving alone is harder than surviving with people who get it.” His eyes are steady on mine. “I’m Ezra. This is Megan.”
“Bianca.”
Megan gives me a shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”
There’s something comforting about them. They feel... safe. Calm. Like they’ve been through fire and come out okay.
“We don’t come here regularly,” Ezra says. “We live somewhere else. But we check in sometimes to see if anyone needs help.”
“What kind of help?”
Ezra and Megan look at each other.
“There’s a place,” Megan begins cautiously, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Deep in the forest. A safe place for omegas who need to heal.”
“Like a commune?”
“A refuge,” Ezra says. “No alphas. We grow our own food and live off-grid. It’s peaceful. Protected.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just hard work and healing. Not everyone’s ready for complete isolation.”
“Are you trying to recruit me?”
Megan’s smile is understanding. “We’re giving you information. What you do with it is your choice.”
They don’t push. Don’t try to fix me or give advice. Just stand there, calm and steady.
“I should go,” I say.
“Take care of yourself,” Ezra says.
I make it to the parking lot before I realize I don’t want to go home and sit in that cottage counting hours until I can sleep.
But there’s nowhere else to go. So I start walking.
I’m thinking about what I heard in group when footsteps echo behind me.
By the time I notice, it’s too late.
“Well, well. Look what we have here.”
Three alphas step out from between cars. They smell wrong—sour and aggressive. Nothing like... nothing like the scents I used to know.
Everything in me seizes. I can’t even take a breath.
“Pretty little omega, all alone,” the tall one says. His voice is deceptively casual, but his eyes aren’t. “Saw you leaving that omega meeting. Figured you might need some real alpha attention.”
They’ve been watching me.
“She’s scared,” says another one, stocky with a shaved head. “Look at her shaking. Perfect.”
The third one licks his lips. “Been watching you for days, little omega. Same therapy schedule every week. Predictable.”
“Please don’t.” I try to sound firm but it comes out weak, soft, pitiful.
The tall alpha’s eyebrows go up. “Oh, it talks. Say it again. Beg.”
I drop the stuff I’m carrying. It scatters across the street.
“Please. I just want to go home.”
“Home,” the stocky one laughs. “Maybe we should take you home. Show you a good time.”
The tall alpha’s eyes go dark. “Kneel,” he barks, and the word lands somewhere deep in my brain that makes my body scream to obey.
My knees slam into the pavement. Pain explodes through both legs as I hit glass. I scream.
It hurts. God, it hurts so bad. Blood soaks through my jeans. Glass grinds deeper every time I shake.
“That’s better,” the tall alpha says, reaching for his belt. “Now you’re where you belong.”
A hand clamps over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up. You want everyone to hear?”
The street’s empty. No one’s coming.
This is happening.
The tall alpha steps closer. “You’re gonna be real quiet now. Real good.”
I close my eyes and try to think about anything else.
“Look at me,” he demands. “I want to see?—”
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”
The hand over my mouth jerks away.
Ezra and Megan are running toward us. They have metal pipes. Behind them, more people spread out.
“Back off,” the stocky alpha growls, but he sounds less sure now.
Ezra steps forward with his pipe ready. “You have three seconds to walk away.”
“Fucking omega freaks,” the tall alpha spits, but he’s backing up. “She ain’t worth it.”
They run to their truck and peel out, tires screaming.
I’m still kneeling on the glass, shaking so hard I can’t stop. Everything feels underwater and far away.
Ezra drops down beside me, careful not to touch. “Bianca. Look at me. You’re safe.”
I try to focus on his face, but everything keeps sliding.
“Did they...” Megan starts.
“No,” Ezra says, watching me. “We got here in time.”
They help me stand. My knees are fucked up, blood everywhere, but I’m too numb to care.
“We need to get you home,” Megan says. “Where do you live?”
I tell them through chattering teeth. They walk me there, one on each side.
At the cottage, Megan cleans up my knees while Ezra makes tea. It feels weird, them taking care of me.
“You can’t stay here,” Ezra says while Megan bandages me up. “They know your therapy schedule. They’ll be waiting.”
He’s right. They know where to find me.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Ezra sets down his cup. “The refuge I mentioned. It’s real, Bianca. Safe. We patrol the perimeter constantly and have security set up.”
“How do I know you’re not dangerous too?”
“You don’t,” he says simply. “But you know what just happened. And you know it’ll happen again.”
Megan finishes with my bandages. “We’re heading back tomorrow morning. You could come with us and see what it’s like. No pressure to stay.”
I stare at them. These strangers who showed up when I needed them. They shared their trauma and offered help without wanting anything in return.
“Where would I meet you?”
“Town square. Seven AM. Bring practical clothes, sturdy shoes, and any meds you need. You can bring a phone, but you will only be able to use it when we go into town for supplies. No cell service out there.”
“It’s a four hour hike,” Megan adds. “Hard to reach on purpose. That’s what keeps it safe.”
They leave me their number and tell me to think about it.
That night, I stare at the ceiling. My knees throb. The cottage feels like a trap now.
Those alphas are still out there.
And there’s no way in fuck I want to find myself kneeling for them again.