23. Bianca
BIANCA
I wake up drowning in warmth.
The kind that seeps into your bones and makes you never want to move again. Their scents… rich and complex and utterly masculine… wrap around me like a drug I didn’t know I was addicted to.
Then awareness creeps in slowly, piece by piece.
Owen’s arm is locked around my waist from behind, his chest pressed against my back. His breathing is deep and even. He holds me like I’m treasure, and someone might sneak up in the night and steal me.
Tristan’s wrapped around my front, one hand tangled in my hair, the other splayed across my ribs. His thumb moves in tiny, unconscious circles against my skin.
Freddie’s got my ankle.
Not just resting against it… gripping it. Like a fucking shackle.
They’re smothering me… but I don’t hate it.
I let myself float in this perfect moment. The hotel room is quiet except for their breathing, early morning light filtering through the curtains. My body aches in the most delicious way, reminders of last night painted across my skin in marks and soreness that make me want to purr.
The memory alone wakes a slow throb between my thighs, and I have to resist the urge to wake them up and request more.
This is what I’ve been missing. This feeling of belonging, of being exactly where I’m supposed to be.
When was the last time I felt this safe? This content?
“You’re thinking too loud,” Tristan murmurs against my collarbone, his voice rough with sleep.
“Am not.”
“Are too.” His lips brush my skin as he speaks, sending little sparks through me. “I can practically hear the gears turning.”
Owen shifts behind me, and I feel him smile against my neck. “Could get used to waking up like this.”
“Could you?” I turn slightly to look at him, and the intensity in his dark eyes steals my breath. He looks unguarded in a way that makes my chest tight.
“Every day for the rest of my life.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.
Freddie stirs at the foot of the bed, his hand sliding up from my ankle to my calf in a slow caress. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Morning.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
I could stay here forever.
“We should talk,” I say, because someone has to acknowledge what happened. What it means. What comes next.
“Should we?” Tristan’s mouth finds the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there that makes me shiver. “I was thinking we should stay right here forever.”
“You know we can’t.”
The air shifts with tension.
Weller’s sitting in the chair by the window, fully dressed, but his posture sets off alarm bells in my head. He looks like he’s been up for hours, and his expression is grim.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, the dreamy contentment starting to fade.
“Whitney moved her flight. She will be back tonight instead of tomorrow.”
The words are like ice water, stealing every trace of warmth and happiness.
I sit up, wide awake. “Tonight?”
“Red eye.”
“Fuck,” Owen breathes, his arm tightening around me.
The silence that follows is deafening.
“Do you have to go back?”
“If we’re not there when she gets home...” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just stares at the wall like he wants to punch through it.
Whatever it is, it won’t be good. I can see that in their haunted expressions.
Fuck her.
Fuck this.
“How long do we have?” I say, the sound distant.
“We have to prepare,” Weller straightens his cuffs, avoiding my eyes. “Our first meeting will begin soon.”
“Will I see you before...?”
He hesitates, then meets my eyes.
“We’ll try, Bianca,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “We want to. It depends on how long everything takes today. There are several presentations we’re required to attend.”
I can hear the regret in his voice.
And just like that, the spell is broken. The perfection of waking up surrounded by them this morning dissolves into our harsh reality, leaving me feeling like a fucking fool.
I slip out of bed, peel the shirt off, and grab the dress I wore last night from the dresser, pulling it over my head like I’m on autopilot.
“So this is it,” I say. It’s not a question.
“Just for now.” Freddie tries to sound reassuring, but I don’t buy it. “We need to evaluate the situation first. See what she suspects. Then we’ll have a better idea of what to do.”
I walk out to the main area of the suite. They follow without a word.
“And what? You’ll send me coded messages through a burner phone?” The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. “Send a message by fucking pigeon?”
They exchange glances. Those silent conversations that used to fascinate me when we were younger… now they just piss me off.
“We need to discuss safety protocols.” Owen’s voice is all control. His body? Not helping. Bare chest, boxers, nothing else. I feel my jaw clench.
“Safe from what? Whitney?”
“Not just her, but yes. If she finds any proof about our time together––”
“What? She’ll kill me?” I laugh, humorlessly.
“If she thinks you’re a threat to her control over us...” Freddie’s voice wavers.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I say, my voice confident because I don’t give a fuck about Whitney.
If she wants a confrontation… I’m happy to give her one.
“I’ll stay with my parents, visit Winston…
you know, pretend everything is normal and not like my life is a total fucking nightmare. I’ve gotten really good at that.”
They freeze.
“That might not be enough, little bee,” Tristan says. “We could rent you a place she doesn’t know about.”
I stare at him. “You want me to hide?”
“Just temporarily,” Weller interjects. “Until we can assess the situation.”
“Or you could go back to the woods for a little while,” Freddie suggests.
I level him with a look. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
They all go still.
“We just want you out of harm's way.”
“For how long?”
“Until we can break the bond.”
“And when will that be?”
Silence.
I whirl around to face them. “So… no plan. What’s the endgame here? Because I can’t figure out what you want from me when you’re bonded to another fucking omega who controls you and oh yeah… probably wants to kill me.”
“We’re sorry, Bianca. We don’t want it to be this way,” Freddie says, his desperation evident.
My chest is tight, anger and hurt warring inside me.
“You want me tucked away for safekeeping somewhere while you live your lives with her… while you’re forced to perform for her.
” I grit my teeth. “What am I supposed to be? Your secret side piece that you visit when Whitney lets you off your leash?”
“Don’t.” Owen’s voice is dangerous now. “Don’t fucking say that.”
“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” I can feel tears threatening, but I push them back. “And you can’t protect me. You can’t even protect yourselves.”
No one speaks for what feels like an eternity.
“You’re right,” Weller says, and somehow that hurts more than denial.
And just like that, my anger deflates into something so much worse: soul-crushing sadness.
Owen steps toward me like he means to close the distance. I take a step back, not wanting to be touched right now.
“We’ll figure this out,” he says, as if that changes a damn thing.
“I need to get back to my parents’ house,” I say, not making eye contact with any of them.
“I’ll arrange a car,” Weller says, opening an app on his phone. “Someone we trust.”
I give a slight nod.
“You know… from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve just accepted your fates.”
“What do you suggest that we haven’t tried?” Weller’s voice is deadly quiet.
“We’ve done it all,” Owen snaps.
“The bonds…” Freddie starts.
“Montgomery has said trying to break them will kill us. Some kind of safeguard built into the chemical compounds to enforce compliance,” Tristan offers.
“And you believe that?”
“You don’t know what we’ve been through, Bianca,” he responds. “The things they’ve done to us when we’ve tried to resist… tried to reclaim our freedom. The pain is… there’s a reason we think they might be telling the truth. Do you think we fucking want this?”
An ache forms in my chest.
“I can’t do this again,” I whisper.
“What do you mean?” Freddie asks, his eyes wide.
“This is impossible. All of it.” I move closer to the door, ready to get out of this suffocating room. “The options are… you belong to her or you die? I... I can’t compete with that.”
“You’re not competing,” Owen says, eyes locked on mine. “There’s no fucking competition. You’re ours.”
“That’s the whole point.” I touch the door handle. “I can’t be yours because you can’t choose me.”
The words land hard, wounding them but tearing through me too.
“Text me when you’re home,” I say without turning around. “So I know you made it safely back to your omega.”
The door closes behind me before they can see me completely fall apart.
In the elevator, I press my back against the wall and let the tears come—huge, heaving sobs that shake my entire body.
Because I love them.
And just like before I left, it’s still not enough.
I push through the door to Winston’s room and force a smile onto my face.
Mom and Dad are there, hovering around his bed like anxious birds.
Winston looks better—alert, sitting up, color back in his cheeks.
But his eyes find mine immediately, and I can see him processing every detail of my appearance.
“You look like hell.” His voice is still rough but stronger than yesterday.
“Gee, thanks.” I move to his bedside, keeping my voice light. “You’re one to talk, sleeping beauty.”
Mom laughs, relief evident in every line of her body. “The doctors say he’s making remarkable progress.”
“Of course he is.” I squeeze Winston’s hand.
We make small talk for a while. Mom chitchats with us about random things, Dad grumbles about the hospital coffee, and I stand there nodding and smiling like I’m not slowly dying inside.
“Your mother and I are going to get some real coffee.” Dad pushes back from his chair. “And maybe some decent food. You two want anything?”