Chapter 23 Bianca #2
“Not anymore it isn’t,” I shoot back, taking another step, getting right up into his personal space. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, but I don’t back down. “He’s a good man in spite of you, and you will not disrespect him in front of me. Weller is my family now.”
“How dare you,” William says, glaring at me like it floors him that I have the audacity to speak to him. He raises his hand to point his finger at me, and my guys all materialize in front of me, a solid barrier. Weller pushes me back gently but firmly.
Alexander shakes his head, a look of profound disappointment on his face. “This is exactly the kind of behavior that is unacceptable. You will fulfill your duties to this family.”
“That is not happening,” Tristan says, his tone icy.
Dr. Montgomery steps forward then, placing a hand lightly on William’s arm—a subtle but unmistakable gesture of de-escalation that seems to piss William off even more.
“Gentlemen, let’s maintain a productive atmosphere.
” He turns to Alexander. “Your concerns are valid. Disruption to your enterprises is a disruption to my research.” He then suggests a compromise.
“You will return to your positions. However, your schedules will need to be coordinated. One of you must remain with Ms. Quinn at all times. No exceptions, except for the dinner tomorrow evening.”
These men clearly want to push back, their displeasure evident, but Montgomery’s tone leaves no room for argument.
There’s a subtle power play happening here, and for the first time, it feels like Montgomery might actually be on our side, if only because it serves his own purposes.
“As for the incident with the Havershams, I’ve managed to broker an agreement.
Not easily, but their families have agreed not to pursue legal action.
Had Ms. Quinn been the one who defended herself, it would’ve been covered by the contract, but since you broke onto private property and attacked them, it has created a complex liability issue. ”
“And the price for your stupidity,” Vincent says, as if bracing himself, “is thirty million from each of our families.” He looks directly at Owen. “Your actions have consequences, son. Say goodbye to your inheritance.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Owen spits, his entire body vibrating with anger. “They hurt—”
“The girl signed a contract,” Alexander interrupts, eyeing Tristan with disdain. “Regardless, the matter has been resolved financially. But the Havershams remain untrustworthy. The money will solve the legal problem, but what they really want is blood.”
“Which is why security remains paramount,” Montgomery says, gesturing with his chin toward one of the hidden cameras in the corner. “The guards and the surveillance are all necessary measures to ensure everyone’s safety.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. It bursts out of me, tinged with hysteria. “Safety? You’re worried about my safety?” I gesture around us with my free hand, the movement jerking Owen’s arm.
Montgomery tilts his head, genuinely curious. “When have I ever put you in danger, Ms. Quinn?”
I stare at him, mystified. Is he serious?
He’s a big part of the reason I abandoned my entire life for five fucking years.
The Havershams hunted me through the woods.
His psycho daughter tried to kill me while I was trapped in his facility.
The list is endless, and yet he stands there, looking at me like I’m the irrational one.
“You’re fucking delusional,” I finally manage.
“Why do you let her speak to you like that, Emmett?” Charles asks, his scowl doing nothing to hide the devil underneath. “She requires a much firmer hand.”
“I assure you, I’m quite sane.” He answers me, not Charles. He ignores Charles completely. “My research requires your continued wellbeing.”
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? I’m not a person to him. I’m data. But on the bright side, he wants me to stay alive. So there’s that.
“I want to see my family.” Let’s see how he handles demands.
“You can see them.” Montgomery shocks me. “I will remind you of the non-disclosure agreement you signed. It would be inadvisable to breach it.” His eyes flick to me, then to the alphas.
I swallow hard. “What exactly am I allowed to tell them?”
“That you reunited with your mates.” Dr. Montgomery waves a hand dismissively. “The public story is that you were in a psychiatric facility recovering from your... episode after returning home. Simple, clean, and close enough to the truth to be believable.”
Close enough to the truth. Wow.
“What about my friends, Ezra and Megan?” I need to know they’re okay. “Are they still being held?”
“They’re being released back to the refuge today,” Dr. Montgomery says. “As long as they stay where they belong and cause no further problems, they’ll remain free.” I will call the emergency line to verify. As soon as I acquire a phone.
“The collars may feel restrictive,” Dr. Montgomery says, surprising me.
“I’m prepared to remove them, provided you adhere to our agreement: weekly check-ins at my office, appropriate public behavior, no attempts to flee or contact unauthorized parties.
The guards will remain, but the collars can go. Consider it a gesture of good faith.”
I blink, caught off guard. Is he serious? Or is this just another manipulation?
Charles clears his throat. “We’d like to have dinner with you boys tomorrow night,” he says. “There are matters to discuss privately, and your mothers would like to see you.”
“And what about Bianca?” Freddie challenges.
“Actually,” Dr. Montgomery interjects, putting a wall between the fathers and our pack, creating a subtle but clear barrier.
“You boys are welcome to have dinner with your families. Ms. Quinn can take the opportunity to visit her own family if she wishes. Mr. Dashwood, you may schedule a driver for her, and one of my guards will follow.” The message is clear.
He’s separating us, but he’s also keeping me away from them, off their turf.
I look from Montgomery to the fathers and get the distinct feeling he doesn’t trust them with me any more than I do.
“You should go,” I say to the alphas, my voice quiet but firm. “Have dinner with your families. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
They all start to protest, but I meet their eyes, one by one.
The fathers begin preparing to leave. They give their sons a list of tasks that need to be handled at the office today. When Owen points to his arm, now in a sling, his father just looks at him blankly. “You’re a resourceful boy, Owen. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
As they file toward the door, Dr. Montgomery pauses, turning back to me. “Oh, and Ms. Quinn? We’ll need to schedule a pregnancy test for our next appointment as a baseline. Your heat was short, but it was productive. It would be unlikely for conception to occur, but there’s always a chance.”
My heart fucking stops. Holy fuck. How have I not thought about this yet?
The room goes silent, but I catch the looks of disgust on the alphas’ fathers’ faces.
Me having their heirs would be their worst nightmare.
I feel the blood drain from my face. And pregnancy?
Under his surveillance? With his cameras and his visits?
It never crossed my mind because he told me I couldn’t have kids.
But he also told me I would never be an omega.
I stand frozen, staring at the closed door.
Their fathers’ disgusted expressions are burned into my mind, but when I force myself to look at my mates, what I see is so much worse.
The air in the room has changed and their anger at their fathers, their concern for me—it’s all been replaced by something else.
Something terrifying. They’re all looking at me like I’m a breeding fantasy of theirs waiting to happen.
They can’t possibly want this. Not here.
Not now. A baby would be another chain, another vulnerability.
It would be insane. But their faces, their scents, the sudden, overwhelming wave of pure, unadulterated desire flooding through the bonds—it all tells a different story. One of instinctual alpha shit.
Looks that say, “I want to put a baby in you.” The thought is so overwhelming it makes me want to run. They must see something on my face because suddenly they snap out of it.
“Bianca?” Freddie catches my hand and brings it to his lips. “Are you okay?”
No. No the fuck I’m not. But instead of saying that, I head to the kitchen and start pulling ingredients out of the cabinet. “Who wants pancakes?” I ask cheerfully. “I’m thinking chocolate chip. Or blueberry. Or both. Fuck it, let’s do both.”
Because if I don’t focus on trying to have a somewhat normal life, if I don’t pretend that the idea of being pregnant in this cage isn’t sucking all the air from my lungs, I will go insane.