14. Bianca #2
“What?” The word struggles past the tightness in my throat. “You’re lying.”
“We were drugged,” Owen grinds out. “At the graduation party. Same as you.”
The knife wavers in my grip, suddenly heavy. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” Tristan says, all mockery has vanished from his face. “Every word is true. We were pawns in a game we didn’t know we were playing.”
Freddie continues. “After drugging us, they injected us with rut inducers...”
“Rut inducers? Why?” My brain struggles to process what they’re saying, trying to fit these new pieces into a puzzle that looks nothing like what I thought.
Owen’s face darkens. “Whitney was in heat when she arrived at the pool house... artificially triggered with drugs her father created.”
Forced proximity. Induced rut. Omega in heat.
She stole them from me.
Not with her looks, not with her fortune, not with her scent.
She stole them with her daddy’s help.
And I let her get away with it.
Rage burns through me, and murder flashes in my mind like a neon sign.
“At the beginning, I was still lucid enough to try and get out,” Weller continues. “I got to the door, but someone forced me back inside and locked us in from the outside.”
They were trapped. Physically trapped with her while drugged out of their minds.
“We were out of it for like two weeks,” Tristan mutters.
Two weeks. While I was in the hospital believing they’d chosen her, they were...
Oh god.
I go weak all over, and my legs wobble.
“While we were drugged,” Freddie says quietly. “They sent announcements, made plans. Destroyed our lives. Made it look normal.”
Everything that tried to kill me was a lie. Every sleepless night. Every tear. Every time I clawed at my own skin until I bled. Every day I spent hating myself for not being enough. All built on a foundation of bullshit and manipulation.
“Your fathers know?”
Owen growls. “They helped.”
Horror crawls up my spine like ice. “Can’t you break it?”
“We’ve tried everything...” Freddie says miserably.
“Why did the bond even take hold if you didn’t want it?” I ask.
They shift uncomfortably.
“The rut inducers intensified the drive to bond. The drugs killed all conscious awareness. The biological imperative to bite, to bond could not be overridden in that state. We did not have control, I promise you that. No part of us has ever wanted Whitney. Not a little, not at all. While we were out of it for those first few weeks, Whitney was... reaffirming the bond with her own methods. To strengthen the connection,” Weller says. “She admitted to it after the fact.”
I gasp when I connect the dots. My alphas were drugged while she… while she touched them. While she used them. While she kept them from me.
They were mine , and she violated them while I ran away.
I bolt for the bathroom. Bile burns my throat as I heave, knuckles white against the porcelain. When there’s nothing left, I stay there for a moment, breathing hard, trying to pull myself together.
I drag myself up, legs shaking, and wash my face. I rinse my mouth, trying to wash away the acid taste.
When I step back into the living room, they’re all where I left them, tension radiating from their bodies.
“I still don’t understand why they would go to these extremes...”
“Montgomery and our fathers wanted a business merger, and this was the most effective way to do it,” Tristan explains.
“My family owns Barrett Pharmaceuticals, Freddie’s family works in transport, Weller’s family has ungodly amounts of money for investments, and Owen’s family owns most of Westmont. ”
“The day at the waterhole when you overheard us talking,” Owen adds, taking a careful step toward me, “we were discussing how our fathers had been hassling us for months about an arranged bond with Whitney. We said no. But we see how that turned out...”
My legs give out beneath me, and I sink to the floor, surrounded by pieces of expensive things that suddenly don’t matter at all. I hug my knees to my chest.
The truth is too much to process.
So much time spent hating them. Hating myself for being inadequate. Five years in the mountains while my family went on without me. Birthdays and holidays missed. Winston’s graduation. His bond celebration. All of it—lost forever because of an elaborate setup.
My shoulders shake. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, desperate not to fall apart in front of them.
Owen kneels in front of me. “We would never choose anyone over you.”
A fissure in the armor I’ve built around my heart cracks inside me. My throat knots up, and I fight back tears.
“We tried everything to reach you,” Freddie says, sounding sad. “Your parents wouldn’t talk to us. Your brother—“ He breaks off, exchanging glances with Owen.
Owen’s hand rises to his face, fingers tracing what I now realize is an old break in his nose. “Your brother wanted to murder us for a long time.”
“He broke Owen’s nose and two ribs when we tried to approach him at the hospital,” Tristan adds. “It took three security guards to pull him off.”
“Winnie did that?” Sweet, rational Winston beating one of his best friends bloody is impossible to imagine.
“Can’t say I blame him,” Owen says with a grimace that’s almost a smile. “I would’ve done worse if I’d been in his position.”
Weller joins the conversation, his voice clipped and cold. “By the time Winston started talking to us again, it was clear what might happen to people we cared about if we spoke up. Whitney’s father made sure we understood the consequences.”
“We tried the police,” Freddie runs a hand through his curls, the movement sharp and agitated. “They’ve been paid off. We hired private investigators, but they either vanished or stopped returning our calls.”
Tristan leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers threading together tightly. “Eventually, we started thinking maybe you disappearing into the forest was the safest thing that could’ve happened. Out of her reach. Out of theirs.”
My stomach twists. “My brother told you where I was?”
Weller’s jaw ticks once, then again, as if he’s holding back more than just words. “He wouldn’t tell us much. Only that you were alive. That you were okay.”
Freddie shifts beside him, guilt bleeding through. “We didn’t think it was safe to pursue you, Bianca. Whitney is... unstable. Her father is dangerous. So are ours. Trying to drag you back into the middle of it while everything around us was imploding would’ve been reckless. Irresponsible.”
Tristan exhales sharply and tosses a glare at the floor. “Plus, we have trackers. Implanted. Monitored constantly. If we so much as breathe outside of Westmont or Emerald Hills, someone will show up and drag us back using whatever methods necessary. Ask me how we know.”
Freddie’s voice drops, low and flat now. His usual glow gone, replaced with a hollowed-out sound. “We couldn’t look for you without dragging them right to your door.”
Owen leans forward. “Whitney is a serious danger to you, Bianca. Stay away from her.”
I scoff and roll my eyes without thinking.
Across the room, Weller stiffens. “Don’t.” His warning cuts clean. “Don’t underestimate what she’s capable of.”
“Don’t underestimate me, Weller.” The words come out sharp, heat rising in my chest. “I’m not scared of Whitney. I’d like to wrap my hands around her neck and watch the life drain out of her eyes right this second.”
Tristan perks up like I’ve offered him a gift, his gaze snapping to mine as he leans in, clearly delighted.
Freddie looks uneasy. “You don’t understand.” His voice trembles, a hitch above a whisper. “She’s not the person you grew up with.”
My head shakes slowly, confusion knotting behind my ribs. “I don’t get it. We were drifting apart before I left, sure, but... we were close once. Why did she do this?”
Tristan’s voice comes quiet, but razor-sharp. “Jealousy. Deep. Obsessive. The kind that warps everything.”
I snort, disbelief breaking through. “That’s ridiculous. She has everything. I’ve been living in the woods like a feral cat.”
Weller folds his arms, watching me with that unsettling stillness of his. “The bond rejection was her snapping point. We made it clear there was no future between us. None. She would never be ours regardless of the bond… led to her complete unraveling.”
Owen speaks without looking at me, his voice low and bitter. “Her cruelty runs deep, and rejecting her came with a price we’ve been paying every day since.”
Tristan gives a tight smile, the humor never touching his eyes.
A beat of silence. Then Owen lifts his eyes, his expression dark. “And the fact that you’ve always been ours...” His voice deepens, dropping to a vibration that moves beneath my skin. “Eats her alive.”
My heart stumbles, too hard, too fast. “But I’m not yours.”
They all go still.
Four pairs of eyes find mine. The force of it knocks the breath from my lungs.
Weller steps forward, as if he can’t help it. “Bianca.” My name always sounds different in his mouth. Like it’s sacred. “You’ve been ours since the day we met.”