Page 38 of Bitter Truths

“Have you thought about the group sessions? I think you’d benefit from⁠—“

“No.” The word comes out harder than I meant.

She scribbles in her little notepad.

We spend the next however long doing our usual dance. She asks about sleep… it sucks. Food… I eat when I’m hungry (never). How I’m feeling… like hot garbage. I give her just enough so she doesn’t call my parents.

When the hour’s up, I practically run out of there.

Walking past the community center, I see cars in the parking lot. It’s Thursday. Six o’clock. Group therapy time.

My feet stop without asking my brain first.

Through the windows, I can see people setting up chairs in a circle. Someone’s putting out tissues like they expect everyone to cry.

This is stupid. I don’t want to hear people’s problems. I have enough of my own.

But I’m still standing here.

Fuck it.

Before I can chicken out, I’m pushing through the doors.

The room smells like burnt coffee and sadness. Maybe fifteen people hanging around—mostly women, a couple of guys. All omegas from what I can tell. Everyone looks tired in that bone-deep way.

“First time?” A woman walks up. Gray hair, kind face. “I’m Sarah.”

“Just looking,” I reply awkwardly, fingers curling into my palms.

“Sit anywhere you want. No pressure,” she offers with a reassuring smile.

I grab a chair in the back. Near the door in case I need to bail.

People settle into the circle. Sarah talks about safe spaces and all that bullshit, but I’m not listening.

Then I see him.

This guy sitting across from me looks like that duke from Mom’s stupid TV show. Same dark curls, same jaw. But he’s younger, maybe mid-twenties. And his eyes... promise he’s seen some shit.

What gets me isn’t how he looks, though. It’s how still he is. Like nothing can touch him. Just sitting near him makes me breathe easier, which is weird.

There’s a girl next to him with short red hair. She looks like she might be sick. Pale and thin.

“Would anyone like to share this week?” Sarah asks, her eyes scanning the circle with practiced patience.

A woman starts talking about her alpha beating her. Next, someone shares about her entire pack dying in a car accident.

I’m not sure how group meetings are supposed to help because right now I’m feeling pretty fucking bleak.

Then the calm guy speaks.

“I was on a date with my girlfriend—Lisa. We’d been together since high school.” His voice is steady, like he’s talking about the weather. “Two alphas cornered us in the mall parking lot. They wanted me, but Lisa was screaming, trying to fight them off. So they slit her throat. Right there…”

A few people nod like they’ve heard this before. The girl next to him squeezes his hand.

“Then they took me. Kept me chained in their basement for six months. Used me however they wanted. They told me Lisa died because I fought back. That her blood was on my hands for not submitting quietly.”

Holy shit.