Page 153 of Bitter Truths

"Kneel and kiss my feet," she orders.

He drops to his knees, bending to press his lips against her expensive heels. As he does, she kicks him sharply in the chin. His head snaps back, but he maintains his position.

"Residential usage," Whitney continues. "Perfect obedience in household staff or... personal companions."

She turns to Tristan. "And now, Subject Two, for our final demonstration. The bond ensures not just obedience, but enthusiasm."

Tristan steps forward.

"You will seduce me," Whitney commands. "Make me believe you want nothing more than to pleasure me. You will use your mouth, and you will be convincing."

The muscles in Tristan's jaw work as he fights the command, but it's useless. His expression transforms, eyes darkening as he approaches Whitney with a level of compliance that's completely at odds with the fury I can see beneath the surface.

"You're beautiful," he says, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Let me show you how much I want you."

He circles her, trailing his fingers across her shoulders. Whitney preens under the attention, turning to the audience with a triumphant smile.

"The authenticity is remarkable," she boasts. "Indistinguishable from genuine desire."

Tristan kneels before her, looking up with manufactured hunger. "Let me taste you."

His hands slide up her legs, pushing her dress higher.

My arrow is loose before I make the conscious decision to shoot. It flies true, a deadly whisper through the air, piercing Whitney's hand as she reaches toward Tristan. The arrow pins her palm to the wooden podium behind her.

Her scream splits the air. Blood blooms around the shaft, spreading across her pristine white dress in a crimson stain.

Gasps erupt from the audience. Whitney's head whips toward the doors where I stand, bow already reloaded.

"The next one goes through your eye," I announce, kicking the doors open fully.

Panic erupts. Investors scramble from their seats, pushing toward exits, shoving each other in their rush to escape.

"Get the fuck out!" I shout at the fleeing crowd. "All of you! Unless you want to be next!"

Whitney's face contorts with rage as she recognizes me. "Guards!"

No one comes. The room empties except for Whitney, the alphas, and me.

"You bitch," Whitney snarls, her bleeding hand still pinned. "You're dead!"

"Let them go," I demand, advancing into the room, my arrow aimed at her heart.

Whitney laughs, high and hysterical. "They're mine! They'll always be mine!"

“Wrong answer.” I begin to ready another arrow.

She jabs at the control panel with her uninjured hand. Alarms blare throughout the mansion.

"Stop her," Whitney commands the alphas. "By any means necessary. Kill her if you have to."

My blood turns to ice as all four alphas turn toward me in unison. Their expressions are tortured, fighting the command, but their bodies move forward.

Weller reaches me first. His hands close around my throat, lifting me off the ground. I drop my bow, clawing at his fingers as my airway closes.

"That's it!" Whitney screeches, blood streaming down her arm from the arrow wound. "Squeeze harder! Make her pay!"

Darkness edges my vision as Weller's grip tightens. His eyes are locked on mine… desperate, fighting, drowning in his own actions.