Chapter 13 – BELLA
CHAPTER 13
BELLA
I wake with a start, my heart racing and my skin flushed. The remnants of my dream cling to me like cobwebs, hazy images of the Vanguard Pack's hands all over me fading as consciousness takes hold. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings sending a spike of panic through me.
Then reality comes crashing back.
The penthouse.
Braxley.
The alphas that live here now, too.
I groan, burying my face in my pillow. God, what is wrong with me? I shouldn't be having dreams like that about anyone but my husband-to-be, let alone a group of alphas I just met.
However much he wants to "open the relationship" so he can party without consequences.
But as I lie there, trying to shake off the lingering effects of my subconscious wanderings, a delicious smell wafts through the air. My stomach growls, reminding me that I barely ate anything yesterday. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I sit up, running a hand through my tangled hair.
Tangled is an understatement.
The living room is empty, but I hear movement and low voices coming from the kitchen. I wrap my blanket around my shoulders like a shield and pad quietly across the cold marble floor.
The scene that greets me in the kitchen is so unexpected, so utterly domestic, that for a moment I think I might still be dreaming.
Liam, the tattooed mountain of a man, is standing at the stove, a spatula in one hand and a frying pan in the other. He's wearing a charcoal tank top that shows off his impressive muscled arms, which are covered in intricate designs that stop at his wrists like shirt sleeves. The blackletter script tattoo on the side of his head is more visible now, and I can finally make out the words.
Memento Mori.
Savva is perched on a stool at the kitchen island, his auburn hair loose and flowing down his broad shoulders instead of in its usual ponytail. He's bent over a laptop, long fingers flying across the keyboard. Every now and then, he pauses to jot something down in a notebook beside him.
Roman leans against the counter, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. His golden-hazel eyes are alert, scanning the room in a way that seems almost unconscious. When his gaze lands on me, I feel a jolt of recognition. He offers me a stiff smile before glancing back at Savva's screen like it physically hurts him to tear his eyes away from me.
Why?
I look like a freaking mess.
"Oh man," Troy says, his voice filled with reverence. He's on the other side of the sprawling kitchen at Braxley's ridiculously expensive espresso machine, a look of pure joy on his face as he fiddles with the settings. "This thing is amazing. I think I'm in love."
"Don't let Worthington hear you say that," Liam says dryly, flipping what looks like a pancake. "He might get jealous."
Troy snorts. "Please. That guy's only true love is his own reflection."
Maybe I should defend Braxley, but... well, they're not wrong. Instead, I clear my throat softly, announcing my presence.
All the alphas turn to me, and I resist the urge to shrink back. "Good morning," I say, my voice still rough with sleep. "Um... what's all this?"
"Breakfast," Liam says simply, as if it's the most normal thing in the world for a team of ex-military alphas to be cooking in their client's kitchen.
"I... see that," I say, still feeling a bit off-balance. "But why?"
Roman sets his coffee mug down. "We're early risers. Braxley did some skincare thing and mentioned sleeping in today. But that you'd grab a protein shake if you were hungry." He doesn't bother to hide his annoyance at that. "We figured you could use a proper meal."
"Liam's a good cook, I promise," Troy says, turning toward us with a cup of espresso in his hand. He takes a sip and lets out an obscene moan. "Holy shit, this is better than sex."
I feel my cheeks flush. I'm not sure what to say. It's been so long since anyone's cooked for me. Since anyone's really taken care of me at all. And alphas really don't cook for omegas. Especially not hardened ex-military alphas.
Yet here they are.
"Thanks," I murmur, glancing around the room. "Where's Cole?"
Roman and Savva exchange a look. Troy just shrugs. "He just disappears sometimes. Probably went outside. There's a nice rooftop area, and Cole loves brooding on roofs." He pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Or is it rooves?"
"Roofs," Savva says flatly.
"Are you sure?" Troy asks. "Because I feel like I've heard?—"
"It's roofs, Troy," Roman interrupts, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now, Miss Emerson, would you like some coffee?"
I nod gratefully, accepting the mug he offers me. The warmth seeps into my hands, grounding me. "Thank you," I say softly. "And please, you can just call me Bella."
Roman inclines his head. "Bella, then. Why don't you go get dressed? Breakfast should be ready soon."
I glance down at myself, suddenly acutely aware that I'm still in my fleece pajamas, my hair a wild mess from tossing and turning all night. "Right," I say, feeling my cheeks heat again. "I'll... go do that."
As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of Liam watching me, a strange expression on his face. It's gone before I can decipher it, replaced by his usual stoic yet kind mask.
In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. My hair is a tangled mess, my eyes still heavy with sleep. I look like myself for once, I notice with a dry laugh. Unpolished. Nothing like the carefully curated image Braxley insists on.
I brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair, wincing at the tangles. Opening my suitcase—I still haven't unpacked, can't bring myself to make this move feel permanent—I pull out a soft cream sweater and my favorite pair of well-worn jeans.
The sweater's nothing fancy, just something I picked up at Target last winter, but it's comfortable and warm. The jeans will make Braxley cringe, but they fit perfectly and I refuse to throw them out just because they're not "on brand." No matter what I pick, he'll make me change if we go anywhere today anyway.
I dress quickly, adding a pair of thick wool socks because the marble floors in this place are freezing. I put on some extra makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes and look a little more alive, a bit of lip gloss, and pull my still tousled hair into a messy bun.
As I'm checking my reflection in the mirror to make sure I look halfway presentable, I hear Braxley's voice, high and whiny, complaining about the noise.
"Do you have any idea what time it is? Some of us need our beauty sleep, you know. And what is that awful smell? Are you cooking? In my kitchen?"
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Here we go.
When I emerge from the bedroom, Braxley is in full diva mode, giving Liam a hard time about, well, everything.
"Do you even know how much that pan costs? It's not meant for... whatever that is you're making. And those are my good eggs!"
"You have a shitload of eggs," says Troy.
"Not that kind!" Braxley complains. "And the smell! It's going to take forever to air this place out. I have a very important video to film later, you know."
Liam, to his credit, seems completely unfazed. He just continues cooking, occasionally grunting in acknowledgment of Braxley's tirade.
I catch Roman's eye, and he gives me a slight smirk.
"Good morning, Braxley," I say, trying to diffuse the situation. "The alphas were kind enough to make us breakfast. Isn't that nice?"
Braxley turns to me, his face softening slightly. "Oh, there you are, darling. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me to these... ruffians."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Of course not. I was just getting dressed."
"Hmm," he says, eyeing me critically as he comes up to me to press his lips against my forehead with an overly loud kiss. "Those clothes are so... provincial."
I look down at my simple jeans and sweater. They're comfortable, practical. But in Braxley's world, that's practically a sin.
"Maybe I’ll change later," I say, not wanting to get into an argument. "Why don't you sit down? Breakfast is almost ready."
As if on cue, Liam starts plating up the food. I move to help him, grabbing utensils and napkins.
"Oh no, darling," Braxley says, wrinkling his nose. "I can't possibly eat... whatever that is. Do you know how many carbs are in pancakes? I'll just have my usual green smoothie."
I see Troy and Liam exchange a look, and for a moment, I'm afraid one of them might say something. But they remain silent, continuing to set the table. Although Troy is smirking.
"Savva," Troy calls out. "Food's ready. Time to put away the toys and join the real world."
Savva looks up from his laptop, an eyebrow raised. "Some of us have actual work to do. Unlike you, who seems to think his job consists solely of making bad jokes and flexing in front of mirrors."
"Hey, these biceps don't maintain themselves," Troy says with a grin. "Besides, someone's gotta keep morale up around here."
Braxley perks up. "What is your routine, anyway?" he asks. "I can't help but notice you're in good shape yourself."
Troy gives Braxley's noodle arms a quick once-over. "Cheeseburgers."
Braxley curls his lip in disgust. "Eugh."
As they bicker good-naturedly, I find myself relaxing. But I can't help but feel the absence of the white-haired alpha who kept watch over me all night. "Shouldn't we get Cole?" I ask hesitantly. "It doesn't feel right to start eating without him."
Savva shakes his head, closing his laptop. "I'll go. Cole can be... aloof around people he doesn't know well."
"And people he does know," Troy adds with a smirk.
Savva ignores him, heading for the elevator. He returns a few minutes later, a slight frown on his face. "He wasn't up there."
Troy looks surprised. "Really? Huh. That's weird."
A tendril of worry curls in my stomach. "Is he okay? Should we look for him?"
Roman shakes his head. "Cole can take care of himself. He probably just went for a walk or something." He hesitates before adding, "To be honest, there's no chance of him joining us at the table."
"Why?" I ask.
All I get in response is uncomfortable silence.
Braxley can't read a room, so he chimes in, of course. "Is it because of his mouth?" he asks, gesturing to his own face. "It's pretty screwed up on one side."
Roman grimaces. "… Yes. But don't say that in front of him." His eyes harden. "I fucking mean it, kid. Don't be a dick."
But I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong, and it's not just that. It's pretty clear the others expected him to be on the rooftop. Did I do something to offend him? Is that why he's avoiding us?
The thought bothers me more than it should, considering I don't know any of these alphas, and Cole and I obviously got off on the wrong foot for reasons I still can't figure out.
As we sit down to eat, I can't help but notice the empty chair where Cole should be. Braxley, of course, is too busy complaining about the stink of "plebeian" food and scrolling through his phone to notice.
"Oh my god," he exclaims suddenly. "My engagement announcement post got over a million likes! Can you believe it, baby? We're trending!"
I force a smile, but my heart isn't in it. I'm too preoccupied with thoughts of Cole, wondering where he is and why he left without saying anything. When I realize they're waiting for me to eat, I take a bite even though I'm suddenly not that hungry.
"Delicious," I say sincerely, smiling up at Liam. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," he replies with a bright smile that lights up those gunmetal gray eyes.
The others—except for Braxley, who's now making as much noise as he possibly can as he makes his usual green smoothie—start eating and chatting about security stuff that goes over my head, seemingly unconcerned.
But as I push the food around on my plate, my appetite is vanishing with each passing moment. The pancakes are amazing, and so are the butterfly, perfectly fluffed eggs. Any other day, I'd be devouring them.
Right now, though, all I can think about is Cole.
I catch Savva watching me, his sharp green eyes missing nothing. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question.
I look down at my plate, embarrassed to be so transparent. But when I glance back up, Savva's still watching me. He gives me a small nod and mouths, "He's fine," holding up his phone screen. There's a little blip on the GPS that shows someone moving through LA.
I give him a tight but grateful smile in return.
"So, Bella," Troy says, his mouth full of pancake. "What's your story? How'd you end up with..." He trails off, gesturing vaguely in Braxley's direction.
I freeze, my fork halfway to my mouth. Braxley's head snaps up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demands.
Troy shrugs, the picture of innocence. "Just making conversation, man. Getting to know our clients better. That's part of the job, right?"
Roman shoots Troy a warning look, but I can see the curiosity in his eyes too. They all want to know. And honestly, I'm not sure I have an answer that makes any sense.
"Oh, it's not that interesting," I say, trying to deflect. "We met at a charity gala. Braxley was... charming." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
The truth is, I barely remember that night. It's all a blur of champagne and fake smiles, my parents pushing me toward the "eligible alphas" like I was some prize breeding mare at auction. And after I had my awakening as the only omega in my otherwise solidly beta family, I guess that isn't far from the truth.
Braxley was just the one who stuck.
"Charming, huh?" Liam mutters, low enough that only I can hear. When I look at him, there's a knowing glint in his eye. He sees right through me.
I feel my cheeks heat up again, and I stuff a forkful of perfect pancakes into my mouth to avoid saying anything else.
"It was love at first sight," Braxley chimes in, his voice as syrupy sweet as the pancakes. He reaches across the table to grab my hand, his grip just a little too tight. "Wasn't it, darling?"
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The alphas exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them. They don't believe a word of it.
"That's... nice," Roman says, his tone carefully neutral. "And your family, Bella? They must be thrilled."
My stomach clenches. "Oh yes," I say, the words coming out automatically. "They're very happy for us."
Another lie. They're not happy for us. They're happy for themselves. For the debts that will be paid off, for the doors that will open. For the bragging rights of having an omega daughter married into one of the wealthiest families in the country.
I feel Savva's eyes on me again, seeing too much. I avoid his gaze, focusing instead on my plate.
"Well, if the interrogation is over," Braxley says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm afraid I have to cut this little... whatever this is... short. I have a very important live stream in an hour, and I need to prepare."
He stands, not bothering to push in his chair. "Bella, darling, why don't you come help me choose an outfit?"
It's not a request. Why does he even want my input when he thinks everything I wear is tacky or outdated?
I start to stand, but Savva's voice stops me short.
"Actually, Mr. Worthington, we need to go over some security protocols with Bella. It shouldn't take long."
Braxley's eyes narrow. "Can't it wait?"
"I'm afraid not," Roman says, backing up his packmate. "It's crucial that both of you are fully briefed on the new measures we're implementing."
For a moment, I think Braxley's going to argue. But then he just shrugs, already losing interest. "Fine, whatever. Just make it quick. And try not to stink up my kitchen again."
He saunters off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake. I sink back into my chair, relief and anxiety warring in my chest.
"You okay there, lass?" Liam asks softly.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The concern in their eyes is almost too much to bear. I'm not used to people actually caring how I feel.
Especially not alphas.
"You don't have to lie to us, you know," Troy says, his usual joking tone replaced by something more serious. "We're here to protect you. All of you. And not just your physical safety."
I swallow hard, fighting back the lump in my throat. "I... I don't know what you mean."
"Bella," Savva says gently. "We've been trained to read people. To see the things they try to hide. And right now, you're practically screaming."
I look up at him, startled by his directness. There's no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet understanding that breaks something loose inside me.
"I'm fine," I insist, but my voice cracks on the words. "Really, I am. It's just... it's been a lot. The move, the assassination attempt, all of this..." I gesture vaguely around the opulent kitchen. "It's just taking some getting used to."
Roman leans forward, his golden-hazel eyes intense. "Bella, we need you to be honest with us. If there's anything going on, anything at all that makes you uncomfortable or unsafe, you need to tell us. We can't protect you if we don't know what we're protecting you from."
The sincerity in his voice is my undoing. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I blink hard, trying to hold them back.
"I'm sorry," I say, mortified. "I don't... I don't know what's wrong. Everything's fine. It's perfect. I have everything I could ever want. I should be happy."
"Should be," Liam echoes softly. "But you're not, are you?"
I shake my head, unable to speak. Troy wordlessly passes me a napkin, and I dab at my eyes, grateful for the moment to compose myself.
"Listen to me," Savva says, his voice low and urgent. Angry, even. Why? "We're not here to judge you or your relationship. But we need to know what we're dealing with. Is Braxley... is he hurting you?"
"No!" I say quickly. Too quickly. "No, he's never laid a hand on me. He's just... he's..."
"A complete and utter wanker?" Liam supplies helpfully.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat, surprising me. "He's not... he's not a bad person. Not really. He's..." I trail off, not sure how to explain.
"Selfish? Narcissistic? Emotionally manipulative?" Troy offers. When I stare at him, he shrugs. "What? I've been paying attention."
I sigh, slumping in my chair. "He's all of those things. But he's also the alpha I'm supposed to marry. The alpha my family is counting on me to marry."
"Supposed to," Roman says quietly. "Not want to."
I look at him, startled by his perception. "I... it's complicated."
"It always is," Savva says with a sad smile. "But Bella, you need to understand something. If this situation is causing you distress..."
"It's not," I insist, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. "I mean, it's not ideal, but... it's fine. I'm fine."
"You keep saying that," Liam observes. "But I don't think you know what 'fine' actually feels like, lass."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Because he's right.
I don't know what 'fine' feels like.
Not anymore.
Maybe I never did.
"I..." I start, then stop, not sure what to say. How do I explain that this is just how things are? That I don't have a choice?
"You always have a choice, Bella," Roman says, as if reading my mind. "Always. Even when it doesn't feel like it."
I shake my head, feeling the walls closing in. "My family... they need this. They're counting on me. I can't just..."
"Can't just what?" Troy asks gently. "Be happy? Live your own life?"
"It's not that simple," I whisper.
"No, it's not," Savva agrees. "But it's not as impossible as you think, either."
I look at them, these four alphas who've known me for less than a day, who've seen through every lie and facade I've carefully constructed. And for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to be free. To make my own choices, to live for myself instead of everyone else.
It's terrifying.
"Now," Savva says, his tone lighter. "About Cole..."
I look up, suddenly remembering my earlier worry. "Is he okay? Did I do something wrong?"
Savva shakes his head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. Cole is... he's been through a lot. More than any of us, in some ways. He struggles with new people, new situations."
I want to ask what happened, what could have possibly broken someone so thoroughly, but I bite my tongue. It's not my place to pry.
Are his scars why he's so withdrawn? So reluctant to be around people? I've never met an alpha like him before. Most alphas I know are all swagger and bravado, always trying to be the center of attention. But Cole... he's like a shadow, always on the edges, never quite part of things. Shy, even.
I didn't know alphas could be shy.
I open my mouth, then close it again. I want to say something, to express more of my concern, but I'm not sure how. These alphas have already seen too much of me, peeled back layers I didn't even know I had. I'm not used to being so... exposed.
Troy breaks the silence, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "I'll go talk to him. See if I can get him to come back."
A slight frown creases Savva's brow. "No, I'll go. If anyone's going to find him, it'll be me."
Troy scoffs, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. "Come on, I'm great at finding shit. Remember that time in Dubai when?—"
"You couldn't find your own ass if it wasn't attached to your legs," Savva interrupts, his tone dry but fond.
I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. There's an easy camaraderie between them, a bond forged in experiences I can't even begin to imagine. It makes me ache for something I've never had.
Troy's eyebrows shoot up, a grin spreading across his face. "Is that a saying from Lithuania? Because that's a good one."
Savva blinks, looking genuinely confused for the first time since I've met him. "I'm... not from Lithuania."
"Oh." Troy's face falls for a moment before brightening again. "Sweden?"
Savva grimaces. "No, Troy. Not Sweden either."
"Hotter or colder?" Troy presses.
Savva stares at him. "I'm sorry, what?"
Troy groans dramatically. "I mean am I closer or further?"
"Oh. Further. Lithuania was closer."
As they banter back and forth on Savva's way to the elevator, the worry keeps gnawing at me, surprising in its intensity. I barely know him. But there's something about him that calls to me, that makes me want to... what?
Comfort him?
Protect him?
The very idea is absurd. He's an alpha, a trained soldier. He doesn't need my protection or comfort.
And yet...
"Wait," I say, standing up.
Savva turns to stare at me in surprise. "Yes?"
"I want to come with you."
Savva's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, I think he's going to refuse. But then his expression softens, just a fraction. "Bella, I appreciate your concern, but?—"
"Please," I interrupt, surprising myself with the intensity in my voice. "I... I need to know he's okay."
The alphas exchange a look, one of those silent conversations that I'm quickly becoming familiar with. I hold my breath, waiting for their verdict. Part of me can't believe I'm being so insistent.
Since when do I push back against anything?
But there's something about this strange pack of alphas that makes me want to be more than the quiet, agreeable omega I've trained myself to be.
"It isn't safe," Savva says with clear reluctance.
But then Troy grins, mischief sparking in his eyes. "It is if I come along. I'll protect you guys."
Savva's eyes narrow. " You will protect me ?"
Roman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he says, sounding for all the world like a long-suffering parent. "But be back in an hour. Sixty minutes, not sixty-one. And keep me updated."
"Kinky," Troy teases, waggling his eyebrows.
"Shut the fuck up," Roman growls.
I feel a smile tugging at my lips, a feeling in my chest that I haven't felt in... I can't even remember how long. Is this what it's like to be around people who actually care? Who joke and tease and look out for each other?
As I head for the elevator with Savva and Troy, I hesitate for a moment. Should I tell Braxley where I'm going? It's what a good fiancée would do, right?
It's definitely what a good omega would do.
But then I think about the way he dismissed me earlier. The way he treats me like an accessory, a prop in his carefully curated life.
And I step into the elevator.