Chapter 11 – LIAM
CHAPTER 11
LIAM
I follow the pack down the hallway to the guest wing, my mind still reeling from what just happened.
The way Bella looked at us, the way she smelled...
Fuck, I've never experienced anything like it.
It's like every cell in my body is screaming at me to go back to her, to wrap her in my arms and never let go.
But I can't.
We can't.
She's our client, for fuck's sake.
And she's engaged to that walking selfie stick.
We file into one of the guest rooms, closing the door behind us. No one seems to know what to say, how to address the elephant in the room.
It's Troy who finally breaks the silence, because of course it is. The lad never could stand an awkward moment.
"So... we're all thinking it, right? That wasn't just me?" He runs a hand through his hair, his usual easy grin nowhere to be seen. "Bella, she's our..."
"Scent match," Roman finishes, his voice low and tight. "Yes. It appears so."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Thank fuck I'm not going mad. The others felt it too.
"But how is that even possible?" Savva asks, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal. "We shouldn't even be able to smell her properly with all that shit Worthington's pumping through the vents."
As if on cue, a particularly strong waft of whatever godawful scent Braxley's chosen washes over us. It's like a mix of strawberry syrup, alcohol, and musky cologne. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
"Shit," Troy mutters, already moving toward the air vent. “I'm closing this fucking thing before my nose rots off from the inside out.”
"You can't just mess with the client's property," Roman warns, but there's no real heat behind it. He looks as nauseated by the smell as the rest of us.
Troy ignores him, fiddling with the vent cover. "Watch me. I'm calling it a security measure. Can't protect anyone if we're too busy gagging on Eau de Douchebag."
Despite the gravity of the situation, I feel a chuckle bubbling up in my chest. Leave it to Troy to find humor in the midst of chaos.
But the levity is short-lived. As Troy finally manages to close the vent, cutting off the worst of the smell, we're left with the reality of our situation.
"What are we going to do?" I ask, voicing the question we're all thinking. "About Bella, I mean."
Roman shakes his head, looking more lost than I've ever seen him. "I don't know. This isn't exactly a scenario covered in our training."
"There’s nothing to be done," Cole says flatly. His mismatched eyes are hard, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "She's our client. She’s engaged. End of story."
“Technically, she didn’t say yes to him yet. And she isn’t marked,” Troy shoots back. “If she's our scent match?—”
“It doesn't matter. You can't give an omega a stable life anyway,” Cole interrupts.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, because part of me knows he's right. Our lives are chaos, danger around every corner. How could we ever offer an omega the kind of stability they deserve? Especially one already used to a pampered, comfortable life.
But then I think about the sadness in her eyes, the way she flinched at Braxley's touch. The thought of leaving her in this gilded cage makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
"What do you mean, we can't?" Troy challenges, rounding on Cole. "You're part of this pack too. Don't think you're getting out of this that easily."
Cole just shrugs, his expression unreadable. "She wouldn't want me. No omega would. So I'm clearly not part of the discussion," he mutters.
"That's bullshit and you know it," Troy argues, taking a step toward Cole. "You don't get to decide what she wants. And you sure as hell don't get to exclude yourself from this pack."
"Enough," Roman interjects, his voice cutting through the argument. "We're not going to solve anything by arguing amongst ourselves. We need to approach this rationally."
"Rationally?" I can't keep the disbelief out of my voice. "Roman, there's nothing rational about this situation. We've just met an omega who's somehow a scent match for all of us. An omega who's engaged to a man who treats her like a bloody accessory. How exactly are we supposed to be rational about that?"
Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, a sure sign he's fighting off a headache. "I know, Liam. Believe me, I know. But we have a job to do. We can't let our... personal feelings interfere with that."
"And what about Bella's feelings?" Savva asks quietly. We all turn to look at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. Savva's usually the calm one, the voice of reason. But now there's a fire in his eyes I've never seen before. "Did you see the way she looked when Braxley touched her? The way she flinched? That's not the reaction of a woman in love."
"It's not our place to interfere in their relationship," Roman says, but I can hear the doubt in his voice.
"Isn't it?" I challenge. "We were hired to protect her. Who's to say that doesn't include protecting her from an unhappy marriage?"
"That's a dangerous line of thinking, Liam," Roman warns. "We can't just... what, steal her away? She's made her choice."
"Has she?" Troy asks. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like she's been backed into a corner.”
I nod in agreement, feeling a surge of pride for Troy. The lad might act the fool sometimes, but he's got a sharp mind and a good heart.
"We might not be able to offer her a normal life," I say slowly, the words forming as I speak them. "But we can offer her a choice. A real one. Not this... this farce of an engagement."
"How?" Roman asks, but I can see the wheels turning in his head. He's not dismissing the idea outright, which is more than I expected.
"We do our job," I say. "We wear scent mask sprays to dilute our scents so she doesn't catch on. We protect her. We keep her safe. And in the process, we show her that there's another life she could have. Maybe not as comfortable as the life she’d have as Braxley’s trophy wife, but maybe she’ll choose our pack anyway."
“That's a fine line to walk,” Savva warns. “If anyone catches on?—”
"We’ll be careful," I insist. "We'll be professional. But we won't stand by and watch her throw her life away for a man who doesn't deserve her."
The room falls silent as we all consider the implications of what I'm suggesting. It's risky, there's no doubt about that.
But she’s our scent match. And she’s worth all the risk in the world.
"I'm in," Troy says finally, breaking the silence. "Whatever it takes. I'm not leaving her here."
"I am, too," Savva agrees, his voice soft but firm. "She deserves to be able to make her own choices."
We turn to Cole. He's still standing in the corner, his scarred face unreadable as he stares out the window. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even nod.
But coming from Cole, silence is practically a declaration of undying loyalty. I'll take it.
Finally, we all look to Roman. The Vanguard Pack leader looks at each of us in turn, his golden-hazel eyes unreadable.
"This goes against everything we've been trained for," he says slowly. "It's unprofessional, it's dangerous, and it could blow up in our faces spectacularly."
I hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"That said," Roman continues, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "I can't say I disagree with the sentiment. We'll proceed with caution. Our primary objective is still Bella's safety. But if, in the course of our duties, we happen to show her that there are other options available to her... well, that's just good security work, isn't it?"
He's right.
We're soldiers, trained to follow orders and complete the mission. But we're also alphas. Alphas who've just met the one person in the world who could change everything.
Hell, she already has.