Page 133 of Bitter Truths

Something that makes butterflies explode in between my legs.

Their combined anxiety makes my nostrils flare.

I’ve put them in a frenzy.

This is what I wanted without realizing it: to make them fight for what they want. The desire to give them what they want only if they’re willing to do whatever it takes.

“Bianca!” Owen roars, closer now and obviously losing it. “This isn’t a fucking game!”

But I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Because stopping means facing what comes next, and I’m not ready.

Not when they still see me as something fragile to shelter instead of something wild to tame.

If they want me docile, they can fuck the defiance out of me.

But that’s the only concession I’m giving.

I climb up a rocky outcropping, using handholds I remember from childhood adventures. My breath comes in chopped rhythm, muscles burning with exertion.

From up here, I can see them through the trees. Four dark shapes moving with increasing urgency, calling my name like a prayer and a curse.

Owen snarls from below. “Fuck. Where the hell did she go?”

“She knows how to hide,” Tristan’s voice sharpens with frustration. “She could be anywhere.”

Freddie sounds breathless. “She’s fast. How is she so fucking fast?”

Because I learned to run from things that wanted to hurt me. Because I learned to survive in places that would break softer people.

Because I became someone who doesn’t need saving.

But as I crouch on the rocks, watching them search with growing urgency, realization crystallizes in my mind.

I don’t want to keep running.

Not from them. Not anymore.

Winston’s words echo in my head—about being pre-bonded, about these alphas belonging to me as much as I belong to them, about taking what’s mine instead of waiting for permission.

“Bianca, please.” Freddie’s voice cracks through the trees, and the raw desperation in it is sweet. “Come back. We can figure this out.”

No, we can’t. Not while they’re still thinking we have no other options but to hide what we are out of fear.

Maybe it’s time to remind them that predator and prey can switch roles in a heartbeat.

Whitney will be back tonight.

In hours… everything changes.

I’ll lose access to them for an unknown amount of time, and the window to claim what’s mine is closing fast.

They’re going to need the fuel for what comes next, so I’m going to let them get their fill.

If I give them what they so desperately need… they’ll be willing to die to get back to me.

Instincts over fear.

That’s the kind of energy we need.