Chapter 14 – COLE
CHAPTER 14
COLE
T he sun beats down on my scarred skin, a relentless reminder that I can't hide here. Not in this city of perpetual light and shallow beauty. I pull the hood of my jacket lower, trying to shield my face from the curious stares and barely concealed revulsion of passersby.
It's a futile effort.
In Los Angeles, there's nowhere to disappear.
I miss the shadows of abandoned cities, the cover of night ops. At least there, my scars were just another mark of survival. Here, they're an aberration, a blemish on the picture-perfect facade this city tries so desperately to maintain.
A child's cry cuts through the ambient noise of traffic and chatter. "Mommy, a monster!"
I don't need to turn to know what I'll see. The wide-eyed horror, the mother's hushed admonishment, the quickening of steps to put distance between themselves and the beast in their midst.
It's always the same.
My pager buzzes again, an insistent vibration against my hip. I ignore it. I already checked once, and that was enough. It's Savva. Wondering where I am, if I'm okay.
As if I've ever been okay.
I duck into an alley, desperate for a moment's respite from the relentless sun and judging eyes. The shadows here are thin, offering little comfort, but it's better than nothing. I lean against the grimy wall, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, trying to focus, trying to ground myself. Feels like the first damn breath after nearly drowning.
Why did I agree to this fucking job?
I should have stayed in Sicily, consequences be damned. At least there, I knew what to expect. Here, in this city of dreams and nightmares, I'm more exposed than I've ever been.
I close my eyes and clench my jaw, but that only makes the memories more vivid. The explosion. The searing pain. The smell of my own flesh burning.
And then, later, the look in her eyes when she saw what was left of me. The horror, the pity, the barely concealed revulsion.
My mate.
My omega.
The one who was supposed to love me no matter what.
She couldn't even bear to look at me.
The pager buzzes again, dragging me back to the present. With a growl of frustration, I yank it from my belt and glance at the screen.
Yep. Savva.
I shove the device back into my pocket without responding. I don't need their concern. I don't need anything from anyone.
Except maybe a dark hole to crawl into and never come out.
But Los Angeles doesn't seem to have those. Every inch of this godforsaken city is bathed in light, exposed for all to see.
It's fucking suffocating.
I push off from the wall, my restlessness driving me back into the crowded streets. I need to find somewhere high, somewhere I can look down on this city instead of being crushed by it. My eyes scan the skyline, landing on a sleek skyscraper that towers above its neighbors.
Perfect.
I make my way toward the building, shouldering past tourists and locals alike. They part before me like water around a rock, their instincts warning them to stay away from the scarred, dangerous-looking alpha in their midst.
I don't pose a damn threat to them.
Well, maybe a few.
Lots of shitheads here, I'm sure.
The lobby of the skyscraper is all polished marble and gleaming chrome. I stride toward the elevators, my combat boots echoing in the cavernous space. A security guard eyes me warily, but I ignore him.
I've got one goal.
Get to the top and find some peace.
Even if it's just for a few minutes.
But as I reach for the elevator button, a thin, reedy voice stops me.
"Excuse me, sir? Do you have a pass?"
I turn slowly, fixing the source of the voice. The receptionist, a beta male with glasses thicker than his hair, shrinks back in his chair. He's already sweating.
"A pass?" I growl, my voice low and gravelly.
He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Y-yes, sir. This is a private building. You need a pass to access the upper floors."
For a moment, I consider intimidating him into letting me up. It would be easy. One step forward, a flash of teeth, maybe a low growl... he'd probably piss himself and give me whatever I wanted.
But I'm tired.
So fucking tired of being the monster everyone expects me to be.
Instead, I turn on my heel and storm out, my lips pulled back in a snarl of frustration. As the glass doors swing shut behind me, I catch a glimpse of the receptionist's face, pale and shaken.
Just another person I've terrified today.
Another tally in the "Cole is a monster" column.
The pager buzzes again, more insistent this time. I rip it from my belt and hurl it against the nearest wall, watching with grim satisfaction as it shatters into pieces.
Fuck Savva. Fuck Roman.
Fuck this whole goddamn pack and their false concern and their mission and their bullshit and…
Bella.
The thought of her hits me like a punch to the gut.
Her green eyes, wide with surprise when she first saw me. The soft smile she offered in spite of my face, before I ruined it by being... well, me.
She probably thinks I hate her.
It's better that way.
Better she stay far, far away from the broken, scarred mess that I am.
But God, her scent. Even through the artificial stench Worthington pumps through his penthouse, I could smell her.
She smelled like home.
No. I can't think like that.
Can't let myself hope, not again.
Not after...
A group of teenagers rounds the corner, their laughter cutting off abruptly as they catch sight of me. I hear their whispers, see the way they nudge each other and point.
Their laughter follows me as I push past them, my hands clenched into fists, making my palms sting. Especially the scarred one. It's more sensitive than the other. At least the pain helps keep me from putting my fist through someone's face. From making them look like me for a few days.
The pressure builds inside me, a volcano of rage and self-loathing ready to erupt. I need to hit something, to destroy something, to feel something other than this crushing despair.
My eyes land on a narrow alley between two buildings. Without thinking, I duck into it, the shadows swallowing me up. It's not high enough, not dark enough, but it'll have to do.
With a roar of frustration, I slam my fist into the brick wall. Pain explodes across my knuckles, but I welcome it. It's real. It's something I can control.
I hit the wall again. And again. And again.
Blood smears across the bricks, but I don't care. I can't stop. If I stop, I'll have to think, and if I think...
"Hey!"
Troy's voice cuts through the red haze of my rage. I whirl around, chest heaving, to find him standing at the mouth of the alley. His blue eyes are wide with concern, his hands held up in a placating gesture.
Did they fucking track me here?
"What's going on, Cole?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
I bare my teeth at him, a low growl rumbling in my chest. "Go away, Troy."
But he doesn't.
Of course he doesn't.
Troy's never known when to back down.
He takes a step forward, and something in me snaps. Before I can think, I'm lunging at him, my bloodied fist connecting with his jaw.
Troy staggers back, more surprised than hurt. "What the fuck, man?"
But I'm beyond words now. All the rage, all the self-hatred, all the pain I've been carrying... it all comes pouring out in a flood of violence.
I swing at Troy again, but this time he's ready. He blocks my punch and counters with one of his own, catching me in the side of the head, splitting my scarred eyebrow.
We grapple in the narrow alley, trading blows and snarls. Some distant part of me knows this is wrong, that Troy's my packmate, my brother. But I can't stop. I need this. Need to feel something, anything, other than the crushing weight of my own existence.
"Cole! Troy! Fucking stop it!"
Savva's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. I freeze, my fist pulled back for another strike.
And that's when I smell it.
Caramel coffee.
Rich and warm and...
Bella.
I turn slowly, my chest heaving, to find her standing behind Savva. Her green eyes are wide with shock, her hand covering her mouth.
She's seen me.
The real me.
The monster I try so hard to keep caged.
Shame washes over me, dousing the flames of my rage. I stumble back, my back hitting the brick wall.
"I..." My voice is rough, barely recognizable. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."
But what can I say? That I didn't mean to attack my packmate? That I'm not the violent, scarred freak they all see?
It would be a lie.
And I'm so fucking tired of lies.
Bella takes a step forward, her hand reaching out. "Cole, are you okay?"
Her scent washes over me, stronger now. Caramel coffee, yes, but also something else. Something that calls to the deepest, most primal part of me.
Mate.
My scent match.
What I've been desperately trying to ignore.
I press myself against the wall, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. "Stay back," I growl, but it comes out more like a plea.
No. No, no, no.
This can't be happening.
Not again.
Not another fucking omega.
Bella hesitates, hurt flashing in her eyes. "I just want to help."
"I don't need your help," I snarl, even as every cell in my body screams for her touch. "I don't need anyone's help."
Savva steps forward, too, his eyes hard. "Cole, we're going back to the penthouse. Now."
I want to argue, to run, to do anything but go back to that gilded cage with its artificial scents and fake smiles. But I'm outnumbered.
And worse, I'm outmatched.
Because as much as I hate to admit it, Bella's presence is already calming me down. The rage that's been my constant companion is receding, replaced by something I'm not ready to name.
With a defeated growl, I push off from the wall and stalk out of the alley, their eyes boring into my back the whole time. I don't need to look back at them to feel them.
Troy's wary looks.
Savva's calculating stare.
And worst of all, Bella's concerned gaze.
I keep my head down, my scarred side turned away from her. She doesn't need to see more of the monster than she already has.
But her scent… fuck, her scent.
It wraps around me like a goddamn blanket, soothing the jagged edges of my soul. For the first time in years, I feel something other than anger and self-loathing.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
Because shit like that can fuck you over in ways that even fire and shrapnel can't touch.