Page 6 of Sweet Torment

But… alive.

“I’ve done nothing but ensure your full recovery, Ms. Quinn.” He taps at his tablet again, probably documenting my every blink and breath. “The bonding with Mr. Dashwood created quite a unique physiological response.”

Yeah, I bet it did. Maybe because you suppressed my biology for years. Maybe because you stole my mates and gift-wrapped them for your psychotic daughter. Maybe because the universe has it out for me, and I don’t know why.

I strain against the restraint again, feeling the tender skin of my wrist protest.

“Where are they?” I need to know they’re okay and Whitney hasn’t .

Montgomery’s eyebrow arches slightly, the only break in his professional mask. “By they, do you mean Mr. Dashwood, with whom you’ve formed an unauthorized bond, and the other three who are still bonded to my daughter? If so, they’re all doing as well as could be expected.”

Unauthorized bond. Like I needed a permission slip to take what’s mine. I grind my teeth when I think about Whitney. She must be nuclear-level furious about Weller and her mangled hand. Has she taken it out on them? Has she hurt them worse because of what I did?

“Let them go.” It’s a demand, not a request, despite my position.

“I’m afraid that’s out of my hands for the time being.” He pulls a chair close to my bed from somewhere behind me, sitting down like we’re having a casual chat over coffee. “Their fathers have invested significant resources in the arrangement. Mr. Dashwood’s father is particularly upset about his son’s... bond contamination, as he puts it.”

“Contamination?” A bitter laugh bubbles up from my chest. “Of course you all would consider it a contamination. Because god forbid an actual real, organic bond should fuck up your frankenbond, right?”

I never once considered what Weller’s father might think when I made the desperate decision to attempt to bond him. But since the Montgomery name was apparently such a selling feature—valuable enough for him to allow his own son to suffer and be humiliated for years—it makes perfect sense that he’s upset.

Fuck him.

Fuck all of them.

And that’s fine if they don’t think I’m good enough for their sons. All of their fathers were always going to either hate me or be dead by the time I was through with them anyway.

Montgomery reaches toward my throat, toward Weller’s mark, and I flinch back so violently that the bed frame rattles. “Don’t touch me.” My skin crawls at the thought of his fingers anywhere near the bond mark. “Why am I wearing a collar?”

“It is for your protection,” he says smoothly, withdrawing his hand. “As much as it is for others. You have shown some behaviors that raise concern.”

“Bullshit.” I spit the word at him. “You can’t just keep me here, restrained like this. My family will be looking for me.”

“You’ve woken up three times, Ms. Quinn.” His voice remains infuriatingly calm. “Each time, you’ve become violent and attempted to injure yourself or our staff while we were only trying to help you. These precautions are necessary.”

“Help me? Fuck you.” The words come out as a growl.

Three times. I’ve woken up three times and don’t remember any of it. What else have they done to me that I can’t recall?

He presses something on his tablet. Behind him, a glass door slides open with a soft hiss. A beta nurse enters, moving with the efficiency of someone who’s done this a hundred times. Her brown hair is pulled back in a perfect bun, not a single strand out of place—probably because she knows how to keep herself from being grabbed by people like me. Smart woman. She carries a tray with various medical implements that I can’t quite make out.

“Dr. Montgomery?” she asks, her eyes flicking to mine for just a split second before darting away.

He gestures at my arm. “Please remove the restraint.”

The nurse approaches cautiously, keeping her face angled away from my mouth… another smart move, since biting is absolutely on my list of options. She works quickly, releasing the mechanism. The restraint falls away, and suddenly my arm is free. I flex my hand, wincing as blood rushes back into my tingling fingers, sending pinpricks of sensation up my arm.

Hot rage floods through me. Before I can even process what I’m doing, I lunge toward Montgomery from the bed, my body moving before my brain can fully form a plan. But my body is weak, barely functioning, and before I can reach him, he holds up a small remote, his thumb hovering over a button.

“Would you like a demonstration of how the collar works?”

He doesn’t wait for my response. His thumb presses down, and the world explodes into white-hot agony.

Electricity rips through my body like a thousand needles stabbing simultaneously. My back arches off the bed, every muscle seizing so violently I can’t even scream. The current locks my jaw, my limbs, my lungs. It lasts only seconds but feels like an eternity before it stops.

I collapse back onto the mattress, lungs heaving desperately for air that won’t come fast enough. My heart stutters in my chest like it’s forgotten its rhythm.

“Fucking... asshole,” I manage between gasps, tasting copper where I’ve bitten my tongue.