Page 91 of Bitter Truths

The way she says educational makes my skin crawl.

Does she think we’re following orders, avoiding Bianca like good little alphas? Or is this just another trap?

“Hospitals are busy places,” Tristan says.

“Indeed they are. I’ll review hospital footage when I get home just to be sure.” Whitney leans closer to the camera, that mark on her neck dark. “If you do happen to run into little Bianca, do give her my warmest regards. Tell her I’ve been thinking about her. Quite a lot.”

She pauses, examining her manicure with eerie casualness.

“You know, I’ve always believed in protecting what’s mine. And I can be… thorough when it comes to those who don’t respect boundaries.” Her smile never wavers. “I do hope you boys remember who you belong to. It would be such a shame if old... friends… clouded your judgment. I’m quite the problem solver.”

The threat wraps around my throat like a noose. She’s warning us off. Threatening Bianca if we get too close.

But she doesn’t know we already have.

She doesn’t know she’s sleeping just feet away from us.

She doesn’t know the obsession burning within all of us. The urge to grab her and run—and say fuck the trackers, fuck the bond.

Fuck all of it.

“Speaking of protection,” she continues, voice light as air, “Owen, darling, do give my love to your family. Your sister especially. Such a sweet girl. I do hope she continues to enjoy that art school she loves so much. It would be terrible if any... complications arose for her. Or her safety.”

Owen goes still beside me. Every muscle locks into place.

She’s threatening his sister. Again.

“We understand,” Weller says, the words coming out measured.

“I knew you would.” Whitney’s beam could blind the stars. “You’ve always been such quick learners. All of you.”

She lets that sit, the weight of years of conditioning settling around us like chains.

But I’ve smiled my way through worse than this.

Even if it feels like it’s killing me.

“Now then, I really must dash. Daddy has presentations until noon, but I have a spa appointment. Can’t return looking anything less than perfect for our reunion.” She winks, and the gesture feels like a slap. “I’ll call tomorrow at the same time.”

The screen goes black.

Silence crashes over us like a wave.

The threats linger in the air—not just the performance, or Owen’s sister, who has been used as leverage many times in the past, but the absolute certainty that Whitney will come for Bianca the moment she’s back.

“When she reviews the hospital footage, she’ll know,” Owen says, his voice hollow.

“Yes,” Weller confirms. “But we might buy a little time if we play along and don’t give her a reason to look closer.”

“She doesn’t know about the penthouse. That’s obvious.” My hands won’t stop shaking. “Tristan’s security loops are holding.”

“For now,” Tristan replies, already pulling up feeds on his phone.

We’re not just risking ourselves. We’re putting Bianca in danger every minute we spend with her.

“There might be things we should tell Bianca,” I say carefully. “About what happens if we try to break free. If what Dr. Montgomery claimed is accurate.”

Owen’s jaw ticks. “We don’t know if that’s real.”