Chapter 26
BIANCA
The driver Weller arranged keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror like he’s getting paid extra to make sure I don’t disappear into thin air.
His eyes flick from the road to me, then to the backpack clutched against my chest like it contains state secrets.
Which it kind of does. I catch his gaze for the third time, and he quickly looks away.
Montgomery’s guard follows in a black SUV behind us, close enough that I can see his expressionless face in our side mirrors.
The sensation of being watched from both front and back makes me uncomfortable.
I shift in the leather seat, trying to push away the overwhelming feeling of being smothered to death.
I snuck into Whitney’s office this morning when everyone was busy.
Tristan and Weller were arguing about some dumb shit their fathers want them to figure out with the accounts.
Freddie was cooking breakfast, the scent of bacon and coffee wafting up the stairs, and Owen was in the shower.
I have to take my alone time where I can get it these days.
Turns out... I was right about the book. The moment my fingers touched its worn cover, something electric shot through me. But I haven’t looked inside yet, and it’s fucking killing me.
As we turn onto my parents’ street, my heart pounds like it’s trying to bust out.
And then I see him.
Winston is standing at the end of the driveway, leaning on a walker, looking like he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t need it.
His posture is stiff and proud, but I can see the effort it’s taking him to stay upright.
My big brother. My protector. The one who taught me how to throw a punch when I was seven.
I don’t wait for the car to fully stop before I throw open the door, the seatbelt cutting into my neck as I fumble with the release.
“Winnie!”
I rush to him, throwing my arms around him. Something about seeing him at our parents’ house like this takes me back in time.
“Little sis.” His arms tighten around me, and I pull back to look at his face. He looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. “Clara wanted to come. I thought it might be a lot tonight. But soon, yeah?”
“I’d like that.”
“Are those fucks treating you well, B?” Winston’s eyes catch on a bond mark peeking out of my shirt.
“Winston...” I sigh, nodding. “You know how they are with me. Yes. None of this was their fault.”
It was mine.
Dr. Montgomery’s guard sits in the car behind us, watching. I can feel his eyes boring into my back. Winston stares the guard down over my shoulder, then looks back at me, his jaw tightening.
“Part of my release conditions,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
“Weller didn’t say much, but enough to know I want to strangle that fucker for what he’s done to you. Whitney is all over the news. Have you seen?” My blood turns to ice water. “What?” We turn toward the house and make our way to the door.
“She and her friends went ‘missing’ on a yacht trip.” His voice drops so low I have to lean in. “A yacht belonging to Dr. Montgomery. But no yacht and no bodies have been found.”
So this is how he is covering up my killing spree. I swallow hard.
“I’m glad she’s dead.” He looks at me knowingly, then says, on a much lighter note, “Mom and Dad have been cooking since dawn. Prepare yourself.”
The moment I step through the door, I hear my mom’s voice.
“Bianca?”
She appears in the hallway, dish towel in hand, hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she takes me in.
“My baby,” she whispers, and then she’s rushing toward me, pulling me into an embrace so tight it hurts. “My baby, my baby, my baby. You’re home.”
Dad appears behind her, his tall frame filling the doorway to the kitchen.
He joins the hug, his big arms encircling both of us.
“Bianca, honey, we’ve been so worried about you.
” When we finally pull apart, my mom is quick to examine every visible inch of me.
Her eyes linger in various places like she’s trying to picture all that she’s missed.
Her eyes catch on one of the bond marks.
“You awakened...” she whispers, wonder and concern mingling in her voice.
“Bianca, excuse my language, but what the fuck is going on? Where have you been? I know you wouldn’t go anywhere with your brother in the hospital like that.
I’ve been worried sick.” Her voice rises slightly.
“Did those boys do something to you again? Or is it something else?”
“It’s a long story, Mom.” I conjure up a wobbly smile, knowing it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’m okay now.”
She gives me a look that says we’re definitely not done with this conversation, her eyes narrowing slightly as she presses her lips into a line.
It’s the same expression that used to make me confess to stealing cookies when I was seven and made Winston admit he’d been the one who put a dent in the car when he was sixteen.
Oh, there will one hundred percent be another conversation. The mom look hasn’t lost its power. Being around my family is making me feel like an emotional wreck. My body feels the urge to break down and cry, and that is not a very Bianca thing to do.
“Come, I hope you’re starving.” She tugs me toward the dining room, her hand warm around mine.
The table holds every food I’ve ever loved in my entire life: pizza with extra cheese bubbling on top, a tray of burgers with all the best toppings scattered around, mashed potatoes, spaghetti, a giant bowl of fruit, and beyond that, a separate smaller table filled with desserts of all kinds.
I’m overwhelmed. This feels like way too much.
“You didn’t have to do all this. Wow.” They both disagree, talking over each other about how it was no trouble, how they wanted to make it special.
“Please, sit,” Mom urges, pulling out a chair for me.
I slide into it, setting my backpack carefully on the floor beside me, keeping one foot pressed against it. Winston takes the seat across from me and kicks me under the table just like he used to when we were kids. The familiar gesture nearly undoes me again.
“So,” Mom says as she pours lemonade into a glass for me. Her movements are casual, but her tone is anything but. “Are you going to tell us the truth?”
“Mom—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me.” She sets the pitcher down with more force than necessary.
“You disappeared. You got into that fight with Whitney at the spa... is that what triggered it? And now you show up with a security guard and—” Her voice catches as she gestures at my neck, at the bond marks I can feel burning under her gaze.
“And now Whitney is missing... and you are bonded to whom exactly?”
Yeah. She’s not stupid.
Winston clears his throat loudly. “How about we eat before she starts the Spanish Inquisition and everything gets cold?” His eyes lock with mine, and he makes a face that makes me want to giggle.
Thank you, Winston.
Mom’s mouth opens, then closes. “Fine. But don’t think we’re dropping this, young lady.”
Dad places a hand on her shoulder. “Let her breathe, Kate.”
Winston kicks me under the table again, a silent question in his eyes.
You okay?
I give him the tiniest nod.
“Dr. Montgomery told us you were in a mental health facility,” Mom says, passing me more garlic bread. “That after coming home, you had another... episode.”
That lasted a whole three minutes. So much for a reprieve.
I nod, choosing my words carefully. “Yes.”
“And now you’re awakened and bonded.” Dad’s eyes narrow slightly as he studies my face.
“Yes. It all happened very quickly.” Not a lie.
“Why didn’t you call us?” Mom asks, hurt evident in her voice.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t.” Literally.
Mom reaches for my hand across the table. “And are the alphas…” She stops, staring at me. “Are they the ones you… are they the same ones Whitney’s bonded to? Winston’s friends? Your…” I open my mouth and close it several times like a fish.
“That situation was not… what it seemed, Mom.”
“I just don’t understand. Is Whitney—” Winston stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Dad, can you help me with something in the garage?”
Dad looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns. “Right, yes.” He stands, squeezing my shoulder as he passes. “We’ll be right back, honey.”
When they’re gone, I turn to Mom, the question burning in my throat. I need to know.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you dated Dr. Montgomery?”
She blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What?”
“Emmett Montgomery.” I keep my voice steady despite the churning in my stomach. “Whitney’s father. My doctor. The man who’s been in charge of my healthcare since I was a child. You dated him in college.”
Mom’s face softens as though she’s thinking hard.
“Oh, that. It was so brief, I can barely remember it. We were lab partners, then friends. We dated for maybe a few semesters before I met your father.” She shrugs, the gesture dismissive.
“It was fun while it lasted but was never going to be a forever thing.”
“Did he take the breakup well?”
She frowns, thinking. “Not initially. He was... intense. But he came around eventually. We stayed friendly. He went on to become the top omega specialist in the world, Bianca. When you needed care, of course I thought of him. He’s been my doctor too at times. Why?”
“And you never thought to mention this connection to me? Not once in all these years?” I can’t keep the bite out of my voice.
“Why would I?” Her brow furrows in genuine confusion. “It didn’t seem important. A college relationship that didn’t work out.” She studies my face, concern growing in her eyes. “Why are you asking about this, Bianca? What’s going on?”
“Did Dad know your college boyfriend was my doctor?”