Page 142 of Bitter Truths

The scent of roses creeps into my dreams, turning them dark, threatening, and ugly. I try to push it away, but it grows stronger, more insistent.

My eyes snap open.

Whitney stands over my chair like she’s been studying me while I slept. She’s in all-white activewear, blonde hair in an effortless bun, looking like she stepped off a fitness shoot while I’m half-dressed and vulnerable.

Fight or flight crashes through my system, but I force myself to stay still.

Breathe. Count. Ground yourself.

The refuge taught me how to survive many things. How to assess threats without showing weakness. How to gather information before making a move.

“Well, look what crawled back from the wilderness.”

Her voice sucks the air from my lungs and wraps invisible fingers around my neck. So many years of nightmares, of seeing her with my alphas, of believing she’d won… that they’d chosen her for being better than me. But I don’t flinch. Don’t give her the satisfaction.

I take a good look at her, searching for weaknesses.

How the hell does she know I was in the woods? Did the alphas tell her? Were they forced to?

The thought makes me ill. How much did they have to confess under her control?

Does she know about…

“Whitney.” I’m proud of how unaffected my voice sounds. “What a surprise.”

She slides into the chair beside me without invitation, settling in like she owns the place.

Not a coincidence. She was looking for me.

How did she find me?

“You look different,” she continues, tilting her head like she’s studying a specimen. “Living like a feral animal hasn’t been kind to you, Bianca.”

I scan the lounge. Mom’s still on her call in the hallway. The other spa guests are absorbed in their own worlds. We’re effectively alone.

Every instinct screams at me to tear her into pieces, but putting them in more danger is the last thing I’d want to do.

“Thanks for the pep talk. I was just heading out.” I shift slightly, angling myself toward the exit while appearing relaxed. Old habits. Always know your escape routes.

“Don’t leave on my account. It’s been what... five years? I’d love to catch up with my oldest friend.” Her hand shoots out to grab my wrist, and the grip feels venomous.

“Not long enough.” I try to pull away, but her nails dig deeper.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I’ve been curious about where you’ve been hiding all these years.” Her eyes glitter with menace.

My expression remains neutral.

“I’m sure you have.” I pick at fuzz on my robe. “Are you stalking me, Whitney?”

“Stalking you? That’s a wild accusation.” But the word comes too quickly. “I just got in last night from Europe. Have to look my best for tonight’s little soirée.”

Bullshit. The mention of a gathering unsettles me. Are they involved?

Then she does something that makes every alarm bell in my head start screaming.

She inhales. Deep and deliberate. Right in my space.

I want to react, but instead, I endure the violation. Showing fear now would be a mistake.