Page 72 of Bitter Truths

She shouldn’t have needed those skills. Ever. Bianca was ours to protect. Mine. I made a promise to myself that I would always take care of her. Yet now, she’s sitting before us like brutal evidence of how spectacularly we failed.

“When I got the signal...” She pauses, the pain in her eyes obvious. Her fingers still against her leg, frozen mid-tap like even the memory has teeth. “Whitney had been busy.”

Freddie leans forward, the tension bleeding out of him in sharp, visible waves. “What did she say?”

“Text first. All sunshine and emojis.” Her voice softens, too smooth to be anything but a blade. “Said how you helped her through her heat. How you bonded her. How happy she was. Said she hoped I wasn’t too hurt, considering my little crush.”

Her smile is brittle, pressed into the shape of amusement. “Very thoughtful of her to check on my feelings.”

Owen’s whole body vibrates with violence that is ready to blow at any given moment. “I’m going to ki––”

“You want to know the cherry on top?” She cuts him off. Her voice drops, becoming flat, monotone. “Before the graduation party... Montgomery pulled me into his home office to share lab results.”

The sudden shift in topic makes all of us go still.

“He told me I would never awaken.” She says it like she’s reciting a grocery list, emotionless and detached. “That my omega is damaged and failed to develop properly.”

Something dark and primal rises in my chest, a rage so pure it burns.

Her fingers trace invisible patterns on the chair arm, but her face remains impassive. “No scent. No heat. Never. And...” She hesitates, just for a heartbeat. “No children. Ever.”

“That lying fucking bastard,” I spit, the words barely recognizable through the fury coating my tongue.

The anger burns through me. He did something to her. The thought of Montgomery laying his hands on her, altering her body without her knowledge, stealing something so fundamental from her… it makes me want to tear him apart with my bare hands. To make him suffer in ways that would test the limits of human endurance.

But beneath that is a deeper certainty… more primal and absolute. Awakened or not, she is ours. Mine. Nothing Montgomery did could change that truth. Her ability to bear children, to scent-mark, to experience a heat… none of that defines her worth to me. To us.

“He did this to you deliberately,” Weller states, his voice cutting through the room like a shard of ice. “It was all part of the scheme.”

The others look downright murderous.

“He wasn’t just your doctor,” Freddie scowls. “He was manipulating your treatment, keeping you from us.”

I watch her throat work as she swallows, something vulnerable flashing across her face before she can hide it again.

“Even if that’s true...” Her voice wavers. “What if whatever he did is permanent? What if I really can’t awaken? Ever?”

The question hangs in the air, raw and honest, before she shutters her expression once more. She touches her neck gently, and I grimace.

“We’ll make him pay for everything he did to you,” Owen promises, deadly intent in every syllable.

“It’s irrelevant now.”

“Is that what you were going to tell us graduation night?” Weller presses, his gaze never leaving her face.

She goes still as a rock. When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet I have to lean forward to catch the words.

“I was planning to tell you how I felt about all of you.” Her fingers twist together in her lap. “And about what he told me.” She swallows hard. “I was scared you…”

Something in Weller’s expression shifts, breaks open. “It would have changed nothing.” His voice is absolute and utterly honest. “Absolutely fucking nothing, Bianca.”

Her composure shatters completely and her blue eyes shine with unshed tears, lips parting on a silent exhale as the words hit her. I can see it in her face… the devastating realization that everything was ripped away from her for no reason at all.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanishes. She blinks, swallows hard, and schools her features back to neutral. Almost as if she’s refusing to process what Weller’s words truly mean.

“It was just one more thing that made that day...” She pauses, her voice dropping to something hollow. “The opening sequence of my worst nightmare.”

Her eyes drift to the city lights beyond the balcony. I recognize the look as I’ve worn it myself… gone somewhere we can’t follow.