Page 141 of Bitter Truths

The tension in their shoulders eases slightly at this news. No explanations are needed for why I’m covered in… them.

Weller disappears upstairs while Freddie raids the medicine cabinet for water and painkillers.

In the bathroom, Weller has already filled the tub with steaming water and bubbles.

Freddie helps me in, then kneels beside the tub. “Let me,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. His fingers work through my hair, gentle but efficient. No flirting, no teasing. All sweetness.

The others hover.

“I’m staying in here awhile,” I tell them, sinking deeper into the bubbles. “You should go.”

I swallow the bitter words that threaten to climb up my throat. Their misery is written all over their faces. They don’t need my anger making this harder than it already is.

Weller crouches beside the tub. “We’re going to figure this out, Bianca. No matter what, I want you to remember who you belong to.”

“And you remember who you belong to.”

He traces my bottom lip with his thumb.

“We never forgot.”

26

BIANCA

Everything hurts in the most delicious way.

My body aches where their fingers dug into me. My inner thighs throb with sweet soreness from where they spread me wide, took me over and over until I couldn’t think. Even sitting in this plush relaxation chair sends little aftershocks through my core, reminders of how they filled me completely.

Every touch during my massage triggered memories... I had to bite my tongue to keep from making sounds.

“You’re really warm,” the massage therapist had commented, working oil into my shoulders. “Are you coming down with something?”

I’d nearly lost control when she hit the exact spot where Owen left bruises with his teeth. The pressure sends heat flooding between my legs, as I remember. I clenched my thighs together, fighting the arousal that crashed through me.

“Just tired,” I’d managed.

Now I’m in the relaxation lounge, floating between euphoria and despair. One minute I’m reliving how perfect yesterday was. The next I’m remembering they had to leave, had to go back to her.

“You seem off today.” Mom adjusts her fluffy robe, studying me over her cucumber water. “One minute you’re smiling at nothing, the next you look like you’ve lost everything.”

She’s not wrong. The emotional pendulum won’t stop swinging. My pulse keeps jumping when I remember how they touched me.

But they’re gone now. Back to Whitney’s prison while I pretend to be normal.

And I have no fucking clue if they’re okay.

“Today has been so nice,” Mom continues, concern creasing her forehead. “You seemed tense during your massage.”

Because every touch reminded me of them. Because I can still feel their hands on me, and it’s driving me crazy.

“I’m okay, Mom. Just not used to fancy massages anymore after being in the woods for years… lots of kinks to work out.” I pull my robe tighter, trying to hide the evidence scattered across my skin. A constellation of proof that I belong to them.

Mom gets a call from Winston and steps away to take it, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

I sink deeper into the chair, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster. My eyelids grow heavy. The ambient music, the soft lighting, the lingering soreness in my muscles... it all pulls me toward sleep.

I drift off thinking about how Weller’s knot felt inside me...