Page 132 of Bitter Truths

“I gave them a little lesson in keeping their hands to themselves,” I say with a devious smile. “They were very receptive students.”

“You could be arrested for this,” Freddie says, panic bleeding into his scent.

“There will be consequences,” Weller’s voice drops low, nostrils flaring slightly.

Red edges my vision.

“You’re lecturing me?” I snap, voice rising. “You came here to scold me about handling what you couldn’t?”

“Bianca—” Freddie begins to protest.

“No.” I hiss, chest tightening. “You don’t get to waltz into my life and start giving me orders.”

“We’re trying to protect you,” Weller insists.

“From what? The consequences of my own choices?” I let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh. “News flash, boys. I’ve been taking care of myself. I don’t need you getting involved in my affairs.”

Owen bristles. “The hell you don’t.”

“You have no rights over me.” Their faces say they find the sentiment adorable, but I keep going. “None of you do. I’m not your omega. I’m not your responsibility. And I’m sure as hell not going to stand here and be scolded like a child.”

I turn and walk back into the house, but I don’t close the door. I’ll let them decide if they want to follow or leave. Heavy footsteps on hardwood tell me they chose to follow.

Freddie calls after me. “Bianca, wait.”

They want to what? Give me a talking to? Tell me I fucked up? That I should be scared of Whitney?

Fuck that.

What I’m not going to entertain is the idea that I did a damn thing wrong.

“Where are you going?” Weller demands to know.

I don’t answer, already moving toward the back door and slipping outside into the yard, heading for the tree line.

“Bianca, stop.” Owen’s voice carries a warning that makes my pulse spike.

I break into a run.

The trail I hit is familiar as breathing. My escape route from childhood. From Winston’s perfection. From the critical voices in my head. It leads toward the waterhole, but I won’t be going that way. Behind me, they crash through the underbrush like a pack of predators. Heavy footsteps pounding dead leaves. Branches snapping under their weight.

The alphas are hunting me through terrain I know like my own heartbeat.

Adrenaline floods my system.

God, I love this.

“Bianca!” Freddie’s voice echoes through the trees, pitched higher with panic.

I veer off the main trail, following another path that winds deeper into the woods. I scan for every root, every rock, every hidden puddle that could trip me up. The refuge taught me how to move through the forest like a ghost.

Their voices grow more distant as I put space between us, but I can still hear them calling my name with increasing urgency. The sound is making me tingle all over.

They are really desperate to find me.

I scramble over a fallen log and duck under low-hanging branches, moving on pure instinct while something primal awakens in my chest.

Not just anger at their audacity anymore.