Chapter 18 Weller
WELLER
She’s so deep in sleep she doesn’t stir when I shift my hips, adjusting the angle while I’m still inside her.
It’s the only way I can get her to rest.
Not that I’m complaining.
Being knotted to her for the first time since we bonded is like finding the rest of my soul.
My knot is long gone, but I’m still hard enough to keep her satisfied and give her what she needs.
Every time I pull out of her slick heat, even an inch, she whimpers.
I can feel her walls clutching onto me, as if her body is refusing to let me go.
I never want to be apart from her again.
The cave is dark except for the dying embers of our fire.
Orange light dances across stone walls that have kept the worst of the storm out.
Outside, rain is still falling, but it’s quieter now.
The violence of it has passed, leaving only this steady sound that I try to match my breathing to.
Anything to find a rhythm while my mind races through every possible way to keep her safe in a world that keeps trying to take her from me.
And now we’ve killed three people in a situation we have no way of controlling. It was probably recorded.
What happens next? For us? For Bianca?
All that mattered was getting to her, and we did. She’s bonded. She’s ours.
But will it be enough?
Dr. Montgomery won’t give her up. I know that. We all know that. Our fathers won’t give up either. This isn’t just about Bianca anymore. This is about power, and we just made a very public, very violent move against their interests.
What does life look like tomorrow? A week from now? A month from now? A year from now?
Will it ever just be the five of us like it was always supposed to be?
I hold her tight, knowing that this is all we have. Right here, right now. This moment that never belonged to us in the first place.
I haven’t slept a single second.
My hand spreads across Bianca’s stomach, holding her back against my chest as if I don’t anchor her to me, she’ll disappear.
Five years of not knowing where she was, if she was safe, if she was alive—it changed something fundamental in me.
Now, every heartbeat of hers that I feel against my arm matters.
Every breath she takes is proof that I haven’t lost her. Yet.
Her other hand stretches out, her fingers laced with Owen’s where he lies beside us. Even unconscious, she reaches for him, for all of us. Her body knows what her waking mind fights. We’re hers as much as she’s ours.
Her skin burns, but it’s not like before.
Not that desperate, clawing need that had her begging and crying, so lost in it she didn’t even sound like herself.
This is quieter. The kind of warmth that makes her soft in my arms instead of fighting everything, including her own body.
I’ve never seen her like this. So unguarded.
It’s everything I imagined our life could’ve been, should’ve been, if I hadn’t been such a fucking coward.
If I’d been strong enough to stand up to my father instead of letting him manipulate me into that room with Whitney.
If I’d been smart enough to see Montgomery’s game before it destroyed everything.
The what-ifs are poison, but I can’t stop them.
They circle and pick at who I used to think I was.
The strong one. The leader. The one who was supposed to protect them all.
What a joke.
I protected none of them.
She makes a small sound, pressing back against me, and my cock throbs in response.
The sensation pulls me from the spiral—the heat of her, the way her inner walls flutter even in sleep, how perfectly she fits against me.
I rock forward just slightly, barely moving, but it’s enough to make her sigh and settle deeper.
It’s been like this for hours. There’s something so calming about having her like this. The need to invade her so deeply that no one can take her from me. Branded inside and out as mine. And ours.
The guilt of all she’s been through when I should’ve been there sits in my chest like shrapnel that I can never remove.
Every mark on her body pushes them deeper.
The collar around her throat. The injuries we all check obsessively.
The wounds she carries inside that go much deeper than the ones on her skin.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Tristan says, cutting through my spiral.
I look over to find him watching us, his eyes tracking every place we’re connected.
The way my hand spreads possessively over her stomach.
How her leg hooks back over mine. Where we’re joined beneath the blanket.
He’s been on watch for the last two hours, a gun on his lap, but his attention keeps returning to her like she’s a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Or memorize. In case we lose her again.
“Can’t turn it off,” I admit.
He nods, understanding in his expression. We’ve all been there since we got her back, our minds racing through possibilities, probabilities, escape routes, and worst-case scenarios.
“Her heat’s all wrong,” he observes, tapping his knee. “The scent is fading.”
It is. She’s fighting it even in sleep. Some part of her still trying to maintain control when her body wants to surrender.
Years of suppressants twisting her hormones.
The forced awakening through our bond adding another layer of complexity.
The trauma of everything that’s happened making her distrust her own needs.
“I think it’s breaking,” I say.
“All the stress,” Freddie murmurs from his spot near the fire. “Her body probably shut it down to protect itself. Survival instinct.”
A blessing, maybe.
“First order of business is getting out of here,” Tristan continues, shifting against the cave wall. “Then Megan can handle the collar. Check for any other surprises Montgomery might have left.”
I nod. Trackers. He’d have backup plans. The man doesn’t leave anything to chance.
“Then we run,” I say.
“She won’t leave Winston. Or her parents.”
“I know.” It’s true. She won’t go willingly. “But we can’t leave her in his crosshairs.”
Owen groans, a low, pained sound that makes Bianca’s fingers tighten around his. She responds to his pain, trying to comfort him. It’s so her that my chest tightens. He’s pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. Too much blood lost. He needs real medical attention.
Freddie appears at Owen’s side immediately, a water bottle in hand. Always caretaking, always watching for what we need before we even know we need it. “Drink.”
Owen grunts but takes it, his movements sluggish. His eyes find Bianca, checking on her even through his own pain. The devotion in that look… we’re all so gone for her.
“She’s okay,” I tell him. “Sleeping.”
Another grunt. That’s all we’ve gotten from him for the last hour.
“He’s not going to just let her go,” Tristan says, and we all know who he means.
“Then we disappear,” I say, the only real solution I can think of. “Take her and run as far as we have to go.”
“She’ll fight us,” Freddie points out, but there’s acceptance in his voice. He knows as well as I do that her fighting us is better than the alternative.
“Let her.” The words come out rough. “Better she’s angry and alive than…” I can’t finish. Can’t even contemplate a world where she’s not breathing, not fighting, not ours.
Owen makes a sound. Agreement, maybe, or pain. Hard to tell. But his hand tightens on hers.
The thing is, I understand why she did it. The contract, the trade, all of it. It’s exactly what she would do, sacrifice herself for others. It’s who she is beneath all the toughness. She loves with everything she has, even when it destroys her.
I press my face to her neck, breathing her in. Bianca shifts against me, and I can tell she’s surfacing from sleep. Through the bond, I feel the shift, the confused contentment of waking somewhere warm and safe. She flutters around me. Testing. There’s a slow clench that makes me bite back a groan.
She rocks back experimentally, humming when she feels how hard I am inside her. “Could get used to this,” she murmurs, and it kills me because she should be used to it.
Pushing back harder, she grinds against me. I rock into her, slow and deep, giving her what she needs. I tease her clit, and she sighs.
“That’s it, my love.” Her body pulls me in like quicksand.
She comes with a soft cry, boneless against me, that sweet doziness returning.
The night outside is beginning to fade, and day will be here soon. As much as I’d love to stay in this little bubble with her, I know we can’t.
I catch Tristan’s eye. “Get ahold of Ezra. Find out when and where they can land.”