Chapter 15 – BELLA
CHAPTER 15
BELLA
T he walk back to the penthouse feels like it's taking forever. Cole stalks ahead of us, his shoulders hunched, radiating chaotic energy with every step. Savva and Troy flank him like wary sheepdogs, ready to intervene if he decides to bolt again.
I just trail behind, feeling utterly useless and increasingly worried.
What happened to Cole? What could have possibly broken him so thoroughly that he'd rather punch walls and his own packmate than face... what?
Us?
Me?
The thought sends a pang through my chest. I barely know this man, this alpha. But seeing him in pain affects me more than I care to admit. Maybe it's because I recognize something in him. A kindred spirit, someone else who feels trapped and out of place in this glittering, superficial world.
As we near the penthouse, a sudden urge grips me. I can't let this end here. Can't let Cole retreat back into himself without at least trying to help. Before I can second-guess myself, I speak up.
"Wait," I say, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. The alphas turn to look at me, surprise clear on their faces. I swallow hard and continue, speaking up. "Maybe... maybe we don't have to go back just yet?"
Cole's one visible eye narrows, suspicion replacing the blank mask he's been wearing. "What do you mean?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I know a place. A park, not far from here. It's beautiful, and usually pretty empty this time of day. There's a lake with ducks and..." I trail off, suddenly feeling stupid.
What am I thinking?
These are trained soldiers.
Not a group of friends out for a picnic.
But to my surprise, Savva and Troy exchange a look that seems hopeful.
"That sounds nice, doesn't it, Cole?" Troy says, his tone carefully light. "A bit of fresh air might do us all some good."
Cole's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he's going to refuse. But then he gives a stiff nod and mutters to me, almost under his breath, "If it'll make you happy." Then he glances at Troy and Savva and adds, "And if it'll make you two assholes leave me the fuck alone for once."
The relief that washes over me is so intense it's almost dizzying. I offer Cole a small smile, which he doesn't return, but he doesn't scowl either.
I'll take it as a win.
We change direction, heading towards the park. As we walk, I can't help but notice how the alphas position themselves around me. Troy and Savva flank me on either side, while Cole shadows us. It should feel stifling, being surrounded by these massive, dangerous men.
Instead, I feel... safe.
Protected.
It's a novel sensation.
The park, when we reach it, is just as beautiful and deserted as I remembered. The lake stretches out before us, its surface like glass in the late morning sun. A family of ducks paddles by, the yellow ducklings trailing behind their mother in a neat line.
"Aren't they cute?" I ask, trying to get them to talk.
Cole just gives a low grunt in response. But his hard expression softens fractionally as he watches them pass.
"This way," I say softly, leading them to a secluded spot I discovered on one of my many escape attempts from Braxley's suffocating presence. It's a small clearing, partially hidden by a cluster of large rocks. The perfect place to hide from the world for a while.
We settle in, the alphas arranging themselves in what I'm starting to recognize as a protective formation. Cole takes the spot furthest from me, still angling his scarred side away from my line of sight. He presses his back to a large boulder, his eyes flicking over our surroundings. Savva and Troy sit closer to me, forming a loose semicircle. I can feel Troy's warmth a few inches away.
For a long time, nobody speaks. The only sounds are the gentle lapping of the lake and the occasional quack of a duck. It's peaceful. More peaceful than I've felt in... I can't even remember how long.
I sneak a glance at Cole, relieved to see some of the tension has left his shoulders. He's still on high alert, but he no longer looks like he's about to explode at any moment. As I watch, he takes a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly. When he opens them again, some of the wildness has faded from his gaze.
"So," Troy says, breaking the silence. "This is nice. Good call, Bella."
I feel my cheeks warm at the praise. "I'm glad you like it. I come here often. My own personal sanctuary from..." I trail off, not wanting to bring up Braxley and ruin the moment.
Savva picks up on my discomfort and smoothly changes the subject. "It's a beautiful spot. Reminds me of a place I used to visit as a child, back home."
"Where is home for you?" I ask, genuinely curious. I can't place his accent, and there's so much I don't know about these men.
A slight enigmatic smile plays at the corners of Savva's full lips. "That's a complicated question. I've called many places home over the years."
"Ooh, mysterious," Troy teases, nudging Savva with his elbow. "Come on, man. Give us something. At least tell us what continent you're from."
Savva raises an eyebrow. "What continent, Troy? Really?"
As they trade jabs, I find myself relaxing. And while Cole doesn't join in the conversation, but I notice the way his flinty gaze softens slightly as he watches his packmates.
I lean back on my hands, tilting my face up to catch the warmth of the sun. As I do, a breeze carries the alphas' scents to me. It's... odd. I can smell them, sure, but it's muted. Like there's a blanket dampening their natural alpha musk. I breathe deeply, trying to parse out the individual scents. It’s still easier than when we’re surrounded by Braxley’s cornucopia of terrible smells.
Troy smells like summer fireworks and warm sand. Savva's scent is more complex—old books and expensive cologne with an underlying note of something sharp and metallic. Cole's scent has subtle undertones of gunpowder beneath the wild mountain air and stone.
The scents call to something deep inside me, stirring strange feelings I'm not ready to examine too closely. I shake my head, trying to clear it. Braxley’s bullshit aside, I shouldn't be sitting here sniffing other alphas.
But I can't help it. There's something about their scents that calls to me on a primal level in a way I've never experienced before.
An even more dangerous thought occurs to me. Could they be my scent matches? They don’t seem interested enough—obsessed enough—for that to be the case. But then again, I have no experience with alphas like these. Strong, battle-hardened military alphas who are serving as my bodyguards.
And Braxley’s, too.
A flash of movement catches my eye, pulling me from my thoughts. A small group of ducks has waddled up from the lake, eyeing us curiously. They're close enough that I can see the iridescent sheen of their feathers, the way the sunlight plays off the vibrant green of the males' heads.
Troy's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Oh man, look at these little guys!" he exclaims, his voice pitched low as if he's afraid of scaring them off. He shifts forward slowly, extending his hand palm-up toward the nearest duck. "Here, ducky ducky," he coos, wiggling his fingers enticingly.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. The duck, however, seems less than impressed by Troy's charms. It eyes his outstretched hand warily, cocking its head to the side as if considering its options.
"Troy," Savva warns, amusement coloring his tone, "I don't think that's a good?—"
But it's too late. Quick as lightning, the duck darts forward and nips at Troy's fingers. He yelps, yanking his hand back and cradling it to his chest like he's been mortally wounded.
"Son of a—" he cuts himself off, glaring at the offending duck. "I was trying to be nice, you feathered asshole!"
A sound I've never heard before cuts through the air, and it takes me a moment to realize what it is.
Cole is laughing.
Well, not laughing exactly—it's more of a dry snort, barely audible. But when I glance over at him, I swear I see the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Serves you right," Cole mutters, his voice gruff but lacking its usual edge. "You're not supposed to feed wild animals, dumbass."
Troy pouts, still nursing his "wounded" hand. "I wasn't going to feed it! I just wanted to pet it."
"Because that's so much better," Savva chimes in, rolling his eyes. But there's fondness in his voice, a warmth that speaks of years of friendship and shared experiences.
“Don’t you eat ducks?” Troy fires back.
I can't help but giggle, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. When was the last time I laughed like this? Genuinely, without worrying about how it might look on camera or if it would mess up my makeup?
"You okay there, Troy?" I ask, trying to keep a straight face. "Do you need me to kiss it better?"
Troy's eyes widen comically, and for a split second, I worry that I've overstepped. But then a slow grin spreads across his face. "Well, if you're offering..."
I feel my cheeks heat up, but before I can stammer out a response, Savva reaches over and smacks Troy upside the head.
"Behave," he admonishes, but there's no real heat behind it.
"What?" Troy protests, rubbing the back of his head. "She offered!"
I laugh again, shaking my head.
The ducks, apparently deciding we're more trouble than we're worth, waddle back toward the lake. We watch them go in companionable silence, the tension from earlier all but dissipated.
I sneak another glance at Cole. He's still tense, still guarded, but there's something different about him now. The hard edges of his glare have softened slightly, and he's not actively trying to disappear into the shadows anymore.
Progress.
"So, Bella," Troy says, breaking the comfortable silence. "Tell us something about yourself. Something that's not in your official bio or whatever bullshit Braxley's PR team cooked up."
I blink, caught off guard by Troy's request. What can I tell them that won't sound pathetic or boring compared to their lives of danger and excitement? These men have probably seen and done things I can't even imagine. My small-town upbringing and sheltered life seem laughably mundane in comparison.
But as I look at their expectant faces, I realize they're genuinely interested. They want to know me. The real me, not the carefully curated image Braxley's PR team has crafted. It's been so long since anyone cared about who I really am beneath the glossy veneer of "future Mrs. Worthington."
I take a deep breath, wracking my brain for something—anything—that might give them a glimpse of the person I used to be. Before Braxley, before this gilded cage of a life.
"I... used to paint," I say finally, the words feeling strange on my tongue. It's been so long since I've talked about this. "Nothing good, but it was mine."
Troy's eyebrows shoot up. "No shit? That's awesome! You got any pics you can share?"
I feel my cheeks flush. "Oh, God no. I was terrible."
"I'm sure that isn't true," Savva says, his voice gentle. "Do you still paint?"
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Do I still paint? When was the last time I even picked up a pen that wasn't to sign some document Braxley shoved in front of me?
"No," I admit, the word tasting bitter. "I... I don't have time anymore. With all the events and appearances and..."
I trail off, suddenly aware of how pathetic it sounds. I don't have time? What a cop-out. The truth is, I've let that part of myself wither away, buried under the weight of expectations and the constant pressure to be the perfect omega.
"That's a shame," Cole says quietly, surprising me. It's the first time he's voluntarily joined the conversation. "You shouldn't give up something you love."
I look up at him, startled by the intensity in his blue gaze. But whatever was just there is gone in a flash, replaced by his usual guarded expression. Muttering something I don't catch under his breath, he flicks a smooth, flat stone across the water's surface.
"Maybe," I say noncommittally, not ready to confront that particular truth just yet. "What about you guys? Any secret passions?"
Troy grins. "Well, I make a mean chili. And I can juggle. Not at the same time, though. Learned that the hard way."
I'm not sure if he's telling the truth or not, but either way, I laugh. It's strange how quickly these alphas have put me at ease, how natural it feels to sit here in this park with them like we didn't just meet yesterday.
"What about you, Savva?" I ask, turning to the auburn-haired alpha.
Savva's lips quirk up in a small smile. "I dabble in a few things. Languages, mostly. And I have a particular fondness for puzzles."
"Languages?" I lean forward, intrigued. "How many do you speak?"
He shrugs. "Fourteen."
My jaw drops. "How did you learn so many?"
"Duolingo," says Troy.
That earns a snort from Savva. "Yes, Troy. I became fluent in fourteen languages through a mobile app. You've uncovered my secret."
"And you, Cole?" I ask, still laughing a bit as I turn to the white-haired alpha. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"
Cole's eyes flick to me, then away just as quickly.
But he doesn't answer, and I don't push him.
I lean back on my hands, tilting my face up to catch the warm rays of the sun. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair, carrying with it the scent of the alphas. Even muted as it is, their combined scents wrap around me like a warm blanket, soothing something deep inside me that I didn't even realize was frayed.
It feels good to be outside, away from the stifling confines of Braxley's penthouse. Away from his constant need for attention and validation. Here, with these alphas, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in months. Which doesn't really make any sense, but here we are.
When I open my eyes, I catch Cole watching me again. For once, he doesn't immediately look away. His mismatched eyes hold mine for a moment before he turns away, but not before I realize he's fiddling with something in his hand. I try to see what he's doing, but his broad back blocks my view unless I'm willing to risk the tentative truce we have by craning my neck and actively trying to snoop.
"Oh shit," Troy says, slapping at his arm. The sound makes me jump, distracting me. Gotta love my new fear of sudden loud sounds. "I think the mosquitoes have found us."
Savva immediately starts patting himself down, a look of horror on his face. "What? Oh, fuck, no."
The sight of the sophisticated alpha frantically checking himself for bugs draws another laugh from me. It's such a human moment. So at odds with the image of the suave, sophisticated alpha he usually projects. It makes me like him even more. "Not a fan of mosquitoes, Savva?" I ask.
"They are vile, disease-ridden creatures that serve no purpose other than to torment humanity," he growls. "And they always, always seem to find me."
Troy cackles as Savva gets up like he's been set on fire. "You should've seen him when he found a tarantula in his sleeping bag in Brazil," he says to me.
Savva's eyes narrow dangerously. "The tarantula you planted there?"
"I did no such thing," Troy says defensively, checking his pager when it beeps. "Aww, shit. Dad's on our asses."
"Dad?" I echo, surprised. Are they brothers?
Savva sighs. "We're a bit over sixty minutes, aren't we?"
"Sixty-three," Troy replies in a flat tone, rising to his feet and offering me his huge hand.
I take it, letting him help me up.
A flash of movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Cole standing up. My breath catches in my throat when I realize he has a combat knife in his hand. It's a wicked-looking thing, the blade catching the fading sunlight.
I should probably be nervous. After all, I barely know this alpha, and he hasn't exactly been the friendliest. But strangely, I don't feel afraid at all. Maybe it's because I've seen the gentleness in Cole, hidden beneath his gruff exterior. Or maybe it's because some crazy part of me recognizes him as safe.
Whatever the reason, I find myself more curious than anything else. What has he been doing with that knife all this time?
As if in answer to my unspoken question, Cole turns toward me. His expression is unreadable as always, but there's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Like I make him nervous even though I'm just an omega.
For the first time, I notice his eyebrow is bleeding. The scarred one on the side he's kept turned away from me. Is that from his fight with Troy?
"You're bleeding," I say. "Cole?—"
"I'm fine," he says gruffly, thrusting something toward me. "Here."
I blink, surprised, and hold out my hand. Cole drops a small object into my palm, his rough fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment. Even that fleeting touch sends a shiver down my spine.
I look down at what he's given me and gasp softly. It's a duck, carved from wood with exquisite detail. Every feather is perfectly rendered, the curve of its neck so lifelike I half expect it to move.
"Wow," I breathe, running my finger over the smooth surface. "Did you make this? Just now?"
He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "It's nothing. Just something to pass the time."
But it's not nothing. Not to me.
This tiny wooden duck represents more than just a way to kill time. It's a gift, freely given, when I'm so used to everything in my life coming with strings attached.
And it's an answer to the question I thought he left unanswered. He's an artist. That's what he does in his spare time.
Another thing we have in common.
I cradle the duck carefully in my hands. "Thank you," I say, looking up at Cole with a smile I hope conveys even a fraction of what I'm feeling. "It's beautiful. I love it."
Cole just stares at me, and for a moment, I think he might say something else. But then he gives a short nod and turns away, moving to put some distance between us.
I watch him go, the wooden duck warm in my hands. Around me, Troy and Savva are still bickering good-naturedly, the sun is setting in a blaze of orange and pink, and the lake laps gently at the shore.
It's perfect.
As we all start heading back toward the penthouse, I realize with startling clarity that I don't want this moment to end. This moment in this peaceful bubble where I feel more like myself than I have in a long, long time.
I want to stay here forever.