26. Bianca
BIANCA
Everything hurts in the most delicious way.
My body aches where their fingers dug into me. My inner thighs throb with sweet soreness from where they spread me wide, took me over and over until I couldn’t think. Even sitting in this plush relaxation chair sends little aftershocks through my core, reminders of how they filled me completely.
Every touch during my massage triggered memories... I had to bite my tongue to keep from making sounds.
“You’re really warm,” the massage therapist had commented, working oil into my shoulders. “Are you coming down with something?”
I’d nearly lost control when she hit the exact spot where Owen left bruises with his teeth. The pressure sends heat flooding between my legs, as I remember. I clenched my thighs together, fighting the arousal that crashed through me.
“Just tired,” I’d managed.
Now I’m in the relaxation lounge, floating between euphoria and despair. One minute I’m reliving how perfect yesterday was. The next I’m remembering they had to leave, had to go back to her.
“You seem off today.” Mom adjusts her fluffy robe, studying me over her cucumber water. “One minute you’re smiling at nothing, the next you look like you’ve lost everything.”
She’s not wrong. The emotional pendulum won’t stop swinging. My pulse keeps jumping when I remember how they touched me.
But they’re gone now. Back to Whitney’s prison while I pretend to be normal.
And I have no fucking clue if they’re okay.
“Today has been so nice,” Mom continues, concern creasing her forehead. “You seemed tense during your massage.”
Because every touch reminded me of them. Because I can still feel their hands on me, and it’s driving me crazy.
“I’m okay, Mom. Just not used to fancy massages anymore after being in the woods for years… lots of kinks to work out.” I pull my robe tighter, trying to hide the evidence scattered across my skin. A constellation of proof that I belong to them.
Mom gets a call from Winston and steps away to take it, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
I sink deeper into the chair, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster. My eyelids grow heavy. The ambient music, the soft lighting, the lingering soreness in my muscles... it all pulls me toward sleep.
I drift off thinking about how Weller’s knot felt inside me...
The scent of roses creeps into my dreams, turning them dark, threatening, and ugly. I try to push it away, but it grows stronger, more insistent.
My eyes snap open.
Whitney stands over my chair like she’s been studying me while I slept. She’s in all-white activewear, blonde hair in an effortless bun, looking like she stepped off a fitness shoot while I’m half-dressed and vulnerable.
Fight or flight crashes through my system, but I force myself to stay still.
Breathe. Count. Ground yourself.
The refuge taught me how to survive many things. How to assess threats without showing weakness. How to gather information before making a move.
“Well, look what crawled back from the wilderness.”
Her voice sucks the air from my lungs and wraps invisible fingers around my neck. So many years of nightmares, of seeing her with my alphas, of believing she’d won… that they’d chosen her for being better than me. But I don’t flinch. Don’t give her the satisfaction.
I take a good look at her, searching for weaknesses.
How the hell does she know I was in the woods? Did the alphas tell her? Were they forced to?
The thought makes me ill. How much did they have to confess under her control?
Does she know about…
“Whitney.” I’m proud of how unaffected my voice sounds. “What a surprise.”
She slides into the chair beside me without invitation, settling in like she owns the place.
Not a coincidence. She was looking for me.
How did she find me?
“You look different,” she continues, tilting her head like she’s studying a specimen. “Living like a feral animal hasn’t been kind to you, Bianca.”
I scan the lounge. Mom’s still on her call in the hallway. The other spa guests are absorbed in their own worlds. We’re effectively alone.
Every instinct screams at me to tear her into pieces, but putting them in more danger is the last thing I’d want to do.
“Thanks for the pep talk. I was just heading out.” I shift slightly, angling myself toward the exit while appearing relaxed. Old habits. Always know your escape routes.
“Don’t leave on my account. It’s been what... five years? I’d love to catch up with my oldest friend.” Her hand shoots out to grab my wrist, and the grip feels venomous.
“Not long enough.” I try to pull away, but her nails dig deeper.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’ve been curious about where you’ve been hiding all these years.” Her eyes glitter with menace.
My expression remains neutral.
“I’m sure you have.” I pick at fuzz on my robe. “Are you stalking me, Whitney?”
“Stalking you? That’s a wild accusation.” But the word comes too quickly. “I just got in last night from Europe. Have to look my best for tonight’s little soirée.”
Bullshit. The mention of a gathering unsettles me. Are they involved?
Then she does something that makes every alarm bell in my head start screaming.
She inhales. Deep and deliberate. Right in my space.
I want to react, but instead, I endure the violation. Showing fear now would be a mistake.
“You smell like...” she murmurs, eyes narrowing as she studies my face with growing intensity. Then she leans in again, breathing deeper this time.
The moment her nostrils flare, I know she’s caught it.
Her face transforms... shock giving way to recognition, then exploding into pure, undiluted rage.
“You fucking smell like them.”
My heart stops. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.” Her voice pitches low and nasty, nails digging into my wrist hard enough to draw blood. “I can smell all four of them on you.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “Did you fuck them?”
I keep my expression blank. Bored, even.
“That’s quite an imagination you have there.”
Her grip tightens, cutting off circulation. “You’re desperate enough to let bonded alphas fuck you?”
“Desperate? Which one of us had to drug alphas to make them want her, Whitney?”
“You’re fucking dead. They’re mine. They’ve always been mine.” The fake sweetness vanishes, showing the psycho underneath.
That’s what I was waiting for.
“Are they?” I tilt my head, watching her face. “Funny, I heard you don’t mind lending them out.”
Her expression freezes. Something clicks behind her eyes. “How do you—” She cuts herself off, studying me with dawning realization.
I give her my shittiest smile.
“You’re delusional if you think this means anything.” Her laugh is sharp and cutting. “You’re a broken toy, Bianca. An omega who’ll never be whole. They might fuck you out of pity, but they’ll never want someone as damaged as you.”
It’s a well-placed stab right where I’m most vulnerable, but I rise calmly and let my robe drop to the floor.
I spin slowly, letting her see every mark they made on me. Proof of their hunger for me.
“Does it look like they give a fuck that I’m damaged?”
Her face turns red and contorts with rage. “You fucking?—”
And then her hands are around my neck.
Her nails rake across my face, drawing blood from temple to jaw. But I like the pain... it only fuels me. I grab her wrist and twist until I hear it pop. She screams and crashes into a side table, scattering magazines and knocking over a vase.
I jump on her, undeterred by the fact that I’m entirely naked.
“I’m trying to decide if I want to take your hands for stealing from me.”
She spits blood in my face. “You’re crazy! Get off me!”
I wipe it away calmly, then backhand her across the face hard enough to snap her head to the side. She claws at my arms, leaving bloody tracks. The pain feels distant, unimportant compared to the onslaught of anger burning in my chest.
I wrap my hands around her throat, getting right in her face. “You’ll regret fucking with me, Whitney.”
She is seething and attempting to get words out, but I’m choking her too hard for them to escape.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Whitney.” I lean close, making sure she can hear me clearly. “You’re going to end this sick fucking game and release them.”
“Or what?” The words are slurred, barely recognizable.
“Or I’ll finish what I started today.” A cold smile forms. “And trust me, this was me being gentle.”
Around us, the spa has erupted into chaos. Staff members shouting, guests screaming, someone calling security. I get off her, reaching for my robe.
“I can’t wait to see what happens to you, Bianca.” The words come out icy and mean. She tries to lift her head, a horrible smile trying to form despite everything. “Your happily ever after will be happy for someone, but it won’t be you.”
She pauses, struggling to focus.
“And I’ll be laughing, you feral little cunt.”
Then security arrives, multiple hands grabbing me, pulling me away from her. I don’t resist. I’ve made my point.
Mom returns to find my arms and face scratched. But unlike Whitney, I’m still standing.
“Bianca! What happened?”
“We need to leave.” I look at Whitney being tended to by staff. “Now.”
The drive home passes in tense silence. Mom keeps glancing at the marks on my arms, the blood under my fingernails.
“Honey...” She’s looking at me like she doesn’t know who I am. “What did Whitney say to you?”
“Enough.”
I stare out the window, my mind already working through the implications. Whitney knows we fucked… and now I’ve kicked the hornet’s nest.
She’s going to hurt them.
Fuck.
I let my anger get the best of me.
My mom sighs. “I can’t say she doesn’t deserve it for what she did to you back then…” Her voice carries a mix of worry and reluctant understanding. “But this path you’re on... you scare me sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.” I touch her hand. “I had a nice time with you today. She was doing her best to get under my skin, and it worked.”
The last thing I need is my mom thinking I’ve totally lost it and trying to push me into therapy or something.
This seems to ease her mind somewhat, although she’s quiet the rest of the way home, lost in thought.
I need to check on the alphas. Today.
I need to make sure she’s not hurting them.
At this point, she’ll never let them out of her dungeon again.
A memory surfaces... the tunnels beneath the Montgomery estate. Whitney and I used to sneak through them as kids until her father caught us and went ballistic.
I know every inch of that house. Every hidden passage. Every blind spot.
I’m done being a victim. Done letting them pull the strings while we dance.
They’re going to be furious with me.
Too fucking bad.