20. Bianca #3
Rebecca bolts for the hallway.
I catch her before she makes it three steps, grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm behind her back until it strains. She shrieks as I zip-tie her hands together, the plastic cutting deep into her skin when she struggles.
“Anyone else want to run?” I ask, slamming Rebecca back onto the couch with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs.
Katie and Liz shake their heads frantically.
“Smart choice.”
The next few minutes blur together in efficient motion. Zip ties around wrists, all three of them secured on their precious white leather. When Katie opens her mouth to scream, I slap a piece of duct tape across her lips hard enough to split her lower lip underneath.
“You’ll get your turn to talk,” I tell her. “When I’m ready to hear it.”
I pull out my phone and hit record, angling it to capture all three faces clearly.
“State your names for the camera.”
“This is insane,” Rebecca spits. “You can’t just?—”
“Rebecca Wells,” I say for her. “VP at Barrett Pharmaceuticals… my guess is you’re fucking Alexander Barrett.
I can’t imagine how else you got the job.
You were never very bright.” Her eyes widen, confirming my suspicions.
“Liz Martinez, professional girlfriend to various executives who are also in relationships. And Katie Preston, social media influencer with two million followers who have no idea the person they’re following is a rapey piece of shit. ”
“Bianca, please,” Liz whispers. “You don’t understand?—”
“I understand perfectly.” I move closer, holding the phone steady. “I understand that you three participated in abusing four men who couldn’t refuse... I understand that you knew they were being forced to comply.”
Katie makes muffled sounds behind the tape. Tears stream down her face, ruining her perfect makeup.
“Let’s start with you, Rebecca.” I lock eyes with her. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.” I lean closer. “Whitney. Weller, Freddie, Owen, and Tristan... Start talking.”
Her face goes pale. “I don’t know what you think happened, but?—”
I slap her hard across the face, leaving a bright red mark.
“Liz?” I turn to the brunette. “Want to try being smarter than your friend here? I’m close to taking fingers first, asking questions later.”
Liz’s breathing comes fast and shallow. “Look, if Whitney said something happened, she was lying. We never?—”
“Whitney didn’t tell me shit.” The word cuts through her excuse. “So… you never took advantage of four men who didn’t want your filthy fucking cunts anywhere near them while Whitney watched and filmed?”
“It wasn’t like that!” Katie blurts out, the tape having slipped. “They’re alphas! Of course, they wanted it!”
The words ignite something primal inside me. I rip the tape fully from her mouth, taking skin with it.
“What did you just say?” My voice drops to a deadly whisper.
“They... they never refused!” Katie stammers, blood beading on her torn lip. “They participated! How were we supposed to know they didn’t want?—”
I punch her right in her ginormous tit, and she screams in pain. The sound is satisfying.
“They can’t refuse, you dumb bitch!” I explode, the rage I’ve been containing erupting like a volcano. “And I know you know that, so quit lying or I will cut out your tongue.”
All three women stare at me, wide-eyed and trembling.
“Whitney said it was fine,” Rebecca manages.
I cut her zip tie with one swift motion. She rubs her wrists, staring at me in confusion.
“Stand up,” I order.
I drop into a fighting stance, weight balanced on the balls of my feet, hands raised. My body shifts into the position I’ve perfected over years of training at the refuge.
Rebecca scrambles to her feet, backing toward the wall. “I’m not going to fight you, Bianca. This is insane?—”
“I’m giving you an opportunity to fight back,” I say coldly before I grab her by the throat and slam her against the wall hard enough to crack the drywall. “It’s more than you gave them.”
“They never said no!” she gasps, clawing at my hand. “We didn’t know?—”
I drive my knee into her stomach with enough force to lift her off the ground. She doubles over, retching, and I bring my elbow down between her shoulder blades. The impact sends her face-first into the marble floor. Blood sprays across the white stone, a red constellation against stark white.
“Get up,” I say calmly.
She crawls toward the wall, leaving a trail of bloody saliva. “Please, I’m sorry?—”
“You’re sorry you’re facing the consequences.” I grab her ankle and drag her back to the center of the room. “Do you know what those men are to me?”
Rebecca spits blood onto the floor. “Whitney said... she said you had some weird obsession...”
The words stop me cold. I crouch down, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at me. “She’s right about that… I am obsessed. They’re mine. And I’m one fucking pissed-off omega.”
“Please… no mo?—”
“Katie,” I call, turning to the blonde. “Your turn.”
I cut her ties, and she immediately tries to run for the door. I catch her halfway there, spinning her around and backhanding her across the face. The impact sends her sprawling across their expensive coffee table, scattering magazines and crushing the flower arrangement underneath her.
She tries to crawl away, sobbing. I grab a handful of her perfectly styled hair and rip it from her scalp, leaving bloody patches behind.
“How many times did you touch them, Katie?” I demand, my voice dangerously low.
“I don’t know!” Katie stammers, eyes wide with panic. “Maybe... ten times? Fifteen? It was just parties, special events!” Her voice rises hysterically. “Whitney arranged everything!”
Blood pours from her nose, where it’s obviously broken. She cradles her arm against her chest, rocking back and forth.
“Liz,” I say, turning to the brunette. “Talk to me.”
She doesn’t even try to run when I cut her zip ties. She just sits there shaking, staring at her two friends on the floor.
“Please,” she whispers. “We’ll do anything you want. We’ll disappear, we’ll never?—”
I drive my fist into her face. The impact sends her backward over the couch, blood arcing through the air like paint flung from a brush.
She lands hard, not moving for several seconds. When she sits up, her nose is flattened across her face, blood streaming down her chin.
I stomp on her hand. The bones crunch under my boot, splinters of white protruding through skin. Her scream echoes off the high ceilings.
With them thoroughly damaged, I make them recount every time they touched them, who they touched, and admit they knew they couldn’t consent.
I check my phone to make sure it recorded all the proof I wanted to collect.
“Now,” I continue, my voice deadly calm, “let me explain how this is going to work. You need to disappear. Pack your things and get out of town.”
“Where are we supposed to go?” Rebecca whimpers. “We need a doctor. Whitney will ask questions if we don’t attend her party this weekend.”
A party? I think fucking not.
“Not my problem. Find an emergency room far away from here and tell them you fell off a fucking cliff for all I care. Tell Whitney you’re taking a vacation. Make sure you stay out of my sight because if I see your disgusting faces again, I can’t promise you’ll leave the reunion breathing.”
“We can’t just leave everything—” Katie tries to protest.
“You can and you will. Because the alternative is that I release these recordings to everyone you know: your families, your employers, every social media platform, every news outlet.” I hold up my phone. “One click, and the world knows what you are.”
“But Whitney will know something’s wrong…” Liz mumbles through her destroyed face.
“Like I said… making it convincing. Because if I see you again…” I move closer, letting them see the promise of death in my eyes. “If you ever go near them again, if Whitney or anyone else ever learns about this visit… I’ll find you, and this will look like a slumber party.”
I gather my supplies, leaving the ruined flower arrangement behind like a calling card. The white roses are soaked in blood now, petals scattered across the marble floor.
“Remember,” I say from the doorway, “nothing will save you if you cross me again. And I’ll be watching. Always.”
I walk out their front door as casually as I walked in, just another delivery person finished with her route. The open house is still bustling, providing perfect cover as I blend with the crowd and make my way back to Mom’s car.
My knuckles are split, and blood stains my black shirt, but it’s dark enough not to show. The recordings will be safely uploaded to multiple cloud accounts, insurance policies against any future problems.
Phase one complete.
A text from the alphas confirming tonight’s plan. Another from Mom asking how my errands went. I pull away from the curb, throwing my phone on the passenger seat.
If only she knew.
By tomorrow, Whitney’s three besties better be gone.
I inhale deeply and feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. Sweet, sweet justice.
The afternoon sun catches the blood under my fingernails as I grip the steering wheel.
The sight of it grounds me.
This is just the beginning.