Page 55 of Bitter Truths

“Good,” I spit. “Maybe if I hurt myself enough, you’ll leave me alone.”

“Fuck, no.” Owen says raggedly. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that.”

The pain that flickers across their faces would be satisfying if I could feel anything other than panic and rage. Freddie looks like he’s about to fall apart.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Owen promises.

“You need to,” my words are quiet. “You need to leave me alone.”

“We did,” Tristan takes a careful step closer. “For five years, Bianca.”

“Because I was hiding in the fucking woods! From you!” I’m hyperventilating now, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. “Because I never wanted to see you again!”

“We need to explain,” Weller insists. “What you think happened⁠—”

“I don’t think anything,” I spit back. “I know what happened.”

They exchange concerned glances.

“Bianca,” Freddie says desperately, “there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” The laugh that escapes me is high. “I saw you. I saw all of you. There’s no misunderstanding when I received a copy of your sex tape for my own personal viewing.”

“Fuck,” Tristan breathes.

Owen looks like someone punched him in the gut. “What sex tape?”

“What did you see?” Weller asks carefully, his voice strained.

“Don’t.” I shake my head violently, fresh tears starting to fall. “Don’t you dare pretend you don’t know. Someone sent it to me. Whitney, I guess. Or maybe one of you wanted to make sure I got the message loud and clear.”

“Jesus Christ,” Freddie swears, and I think he is crying… “Bianca, we never⁠—”

“We didn’t know,” Tristan confirms.

“You’re all liars.” The words come out cold, slicing.

“We need to have this conversation,” Weller says, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “This isn’t optional.”

“No.” I’m backing away again, my whole body screaming at me to run. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want to hear how it ‘just happened’ or how you ‘couldn’t help yourselves.’”

“It’s not an excuse,” Owen says, and he takes a step toward me. “It’s the truth.”

“Stay away from me.” I reach for the shiv in my pocket, muscle memory taking over. “I’m not the same stupid girl who believed your bullshit.”

But Owen doesn’t stop. He keeps walking toward me, slow and deliberate, like he’s stalking prey.

“I mean it, Owen.” The familiar weight of the weapon in my hand grounds me, reminds me who I am now. “Back off.”

He takes another step. Then another.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Princess.”

The nickname makes me snap.

Before I can think, the shiv is out and moving, sliding into his thigh. Not deep enough to hit anything vital, but deep enough to make him remember that I’m not his fucking princess anymore.

Owen hisses through his teeth, looking down at the blood spreading across his jeans. When he looks back up at me, he’s smiling.