Page 145 of Bitter Truths

Ugh.

My shoulders burn from sleeping on concrete all night.

We’ve been locked in this basement since Whitney got home, shrieking questions we couldn’t answer honestly without sending her hunting for Bianca.

Dr. Montgomery’s extended business trip with Whitney left us without our regular doses of the drugs that keep us tethered to his psychotic daughter. Thank fuck, because we were able to lie to her more easily than usual.

The pain is not quite as potent.

All I can think about is Bianca.

Fuck, I’m obsessed. Completely, utterly obsessed with everything about her. The way she looked at us in that clearing like we were salvation and damnation wrapped in one. The sounds she made when I was buried inside her—little gasps and moans that are burned into my brain forever. How her body arched beneath mine, perfect and desperate and…

Mine.

The possessiveness that floods through me is so intense it makes my head spin. She belongs to me. To us. Every breath she takes, every heartbeat, every thought in that brilliant, defiant head—it’s all ours.

My cock hardens, pressing against the thin fabric of the sweats I’m wearing. Even after the scalding showers and chemical scrubs to hide our activities, I swear I can still taste her on my tongue. I can still feel the hot, wet heat of her wrapped around me.

The connection to her feels otherworldly. The desire to mark every inch of her skin so thoroughly that no one else would even dare look at her is eating me alive.

“Stop thinking about it,” Owen growls from the cage beside mine. His knuckles are split and bloody from pounding the bars all night. “You’re making this worse.”

But I can’t stop. Every second that passes without her feels like dying.

“Making what worse?”

“The smell.” Freddie shifts in his cage across from us, arms wrapped around his knees. Dark circles ring his eyes, and his hair is a mess. “You reek of want, Tris. It’s making all of us think about it, and Whitney is going to smell it too.”

He’s right. The basement air is thick with alpha arousal.

Owen looks like he hasn’t slept at all. His shirt is torn from clawing at himself, and there are fresh scratches on his arms—a habit he’s picked up over the years to expend his anger.

Even Weller is affected. The small tells that most people would miss are there.

What a picture.

All of us sitting in our tiny prisons, losing our fucking minds.

“Can’t help it. I miss her,” I murmur, pressing my forehead against the cold metal. “I think she was born to drive us insane.”

“We got out of control with her yesterday,” Weller states from the corner cage. Even trapped like an animal, he sits with perfect posture. His eyes flick to Owen, then to me, like he’s calling us out specifically. “We were... excessive. Too intense.”

“What the fuck do you expect?” Owen says incredulously. “We’ve wanted her for fucking ever, and she laid herself out like a feast. Of course, we lost our shit.”

“She liked it.” I lean back with a smirk. “Or did you miss all those sounds she was making?”

Weller’s jaw ticks. “That’s not the point⁠—”

I roll my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of my skull.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Owen cuts in with a bitter laugh. “Didn’t exactly refuse when it was your turn.”

Weller’s composure falters. “That was different.”

“How?” Freddie scoffs. “Because you think you were being gentle? You had no problem knotting her.”

“Lucky bastard,” Owen mutters.