Page 57 of Sweet Torment

She comes with a soft cry, boneless against me, that sweet doziness returning.

The night outside is beginning to fade, and day will be here soon. As much as I’d love to stay in this little bubble with her, I know we can’t.

I catch Tristan’s eye. “Get ahold of Ezra. Find out when and where they can land.”

19

BIANCA

Two hours.

The last time we spoke to Ezra, he said he had a pilot lined up—someone willing to risk flying into a corporate-owned preserve with this level of security. He was supposed to call back with a time and location. He never did. The silence from the walkie is its own kind of dread.

So we’ve been walking through these woods for two hours, and every step reminds me exactly how I spent my night. And the worst part? My stupid body actually still wants more. Heat or not.

Morning light bleeds through the trees above us, painting everything in shades of muted gold. I might think it was pretty if I weren’t a madman’s doll stuck here to play his little games.

Right now, all I care about is putting one foot in front of the other without letting them see how much I want to drop to my knees and let them make me forget everything again.

But I can’t.

I’m pretty glad my heat was mostly gone by the time I woke up. Needing to be fucked every two seconds while you’re trying to strategize is a little obnoxious. It leaves me feeling raw, exposed, hyperaware of everything, and bitchy as hell. My neck throbs where three new sets of teeth broke the skin. And between my legs... fuck. Even with multiple rounds of cleanup, I’m a mess, and each step makes me more aware of how empty I feel.

Knots are kinda addictive.

There’s something about sex that just blanks the fuck out of my mind.

Orgasms over anxiety.

My body is a roadmap of their possession, and every minute I can remember plays on a loop I can’t stop.

My omega brain basks in the warm fuzzies. Claimed. Mated. Finally theirs.

My rational brain screams in terror. Trapped. Controlled. Completely fucked.

My heat should last for days, not hours. But then again, when has my body ever done what it’s supposed to? The stress, the violence, the constant threats—of course my body decided to tap out early.

I touch the collar around my throat, fingers tracing the smooth metal as irritation fills me. The collar. The bond marks. The juxtaposition makes me want to laugh. Or scream. Claimed by my alphas, collared by Montgomery. I’m struggling not to suffocate under the weight of it all. Freedom feels like an impossibility.

“You okay?” Freddie asks, his voice low as he falls back to walk beside me. His green eyes track my fingers on the collar.

I snatch my hand away from the collar and mutter something about being leashed in more ways than one. Freddie’s dimple twitches in response, but mercifully he doesn’t push for more. I keep my eyes forward, chin up, and try to pretend I’m not about to spiral out.

The drone that’s been following us makes me want to stab someone. It’s the same drone that’s been tracking us since we were at the cave, its little red eye a constant. I imagine Dr. Montgomery watching me on his little fucking tablet, and I seethe.

I found pants in my supply backpack, thank God. No one’s trying to hike in a t-shirt. I also found a gun when I was digging around. I stuffed it in my pants. I’m pretty sure I can shoot better than they can. They didn’t want to waste any more bullets trying to take it down, but I’ve about had it. I pull it out of my pants with no warning at all, disengage the safety, rack the slide, and shoot the motherfucking thing out of the sky. The drone explodes in a satisfying shower.

“Bianca!” Weller is damn near hysterical.

“Jesus,” Tristan breathes, taking the gun from my hand.

Owen is too miserable to react. “Princess, a little warning next time. You scared the shit out of me.”

Oops. I guess gunshots will probably make him jumpy for a while.

I just shrug, calm settling over me. “It was pissing me off.”

Freddie is staring at me like I have five heads. Yep. That’s who you bonded with.