Chapter 21 – BELLA
CHAPTER 21
BELLA
I 'm curled up on the couch, trying to lose myself in a book, but the words keep blurring together. My mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Exhilaration from my training sessions with Liam, confusion over my growing feelings for the Vanguard Pack, and guilt every time I think about Braxley.
He's off with Savva right now. I'm tempted to eavesdrop, but I don't give in. It's kind of nice to have some time to myself to just decompress anyway. Time away from Braxley bugging me about needing a trim even though it's only been a week since I saw the stylist.
"You wouldn't go a week without a shower," he'd said. As if a stylist and a shower are remotely comparable.
Guess in his world, they are.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulls me from my book, but when I look up to see Roman, his golden-hazel eyes intense as always, I'm hardly disappointed. The rest of the pack follows behind him. Even Cole is lurking in the shadows at the back.
"Bella," Roman says, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "We need to talk to you. It's important."
Well, that doesn't sound good.
I set my book aside, sitting up straighter. "Of course. What's going on?"
They arrange themselves around me, their sheer presence almost overwhelming. Roman takes a deep breath. "We've uncovered some information about a potential threat. To both you and Braxley."
My heart rate picks up. "What kind of threat?"
Savva steps forward, tablet in hand. "There's a woman named Heather who's been leaving concerning comments on Braxley's social media. We believe she may be involved in the assassination attempt in Spain."
My stomach drops as I take in Roman's words. The reality of our situation comes crashing back, shattering the fragile sense of peace I've been cultivating over the past few days.
"What... what kind of comments?" I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. I clear my throat and try again, stronger this time. "What has she been saying?"
Savva's fingers fly over his tablet, pulling up screenshots. "At first glance, they appear to be standard fan comments. Lots of heart emojis, gushing praise. But there's an underlying current of possessiveness that's concerning."
He turns the tablet so I can see, and I lean in, scanning the comments. My eyes widen as I take in the increasingly aggressive tone.
My soulmate 3
Why are you ignoring me? haha
That omega doesn't deserve you. She'll never love you like I do.
I swallow hard, a chill running down my spine. The last comment hits a little too close to home, though not for the reasons this Heather probably thinks.
"Has she... has she said anything about me specifically?" I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
Troy clears his throat. "There was one comment on a photo of you and Braxley at some charity event. She, uh... she called you a slut. And used a knife emoji."
I flinch at the words, even as a part of me wants to laugh hysterically. If only she knew how far from the truth that was. How I've been doing everything in my power to avoid being intimate with Braxley.
And how successful I've been.
"Bella." Roman's voice is gentle, drawing my attention back to him. "We don't think this woman is working alone. The assassination attempt in Spain was too professional, too well-coordinated. We believe she may be working with others, possibly providing inside information."
"Inside information?" I repeat, my brow furrowing. "But how would she..."
I trail off as Liam pulls up a photo on his phone. "This is her," he says, holding it out to me. "Heather Patton. Does she look familiar?"
I lean in, studying the image. She's pretty in a generic, Instagram-influencer kind of way. Long blonde hair, perfect makeup, dazzling smile. But there's something in her eyes, a hardness that doesn't match the rest of her carefully curated image.
And then it hits me.
"Oh my God," I breathe, my hand flying to my mouth. "I've met her."
The alphas exchange sharp glances. "You're sure?" Roman presses.
I nod, the memory flooding back with sickening clarity. "It was at one of Braxley's product launch parties, maybe two months ago? She was working as a hostess, I think. She spilled a drink on me and was so apologetic, insisted on helping me clean up in the bathroom."
"Did anything seem off about her?" Savva asks, his fingers poised over his tablet, ready to take notes.
I close my eyes, trying to recall every detail of our interaction. "She was... overly friendly, I think. But I don't really remember. Kept asking me questions about Braxley, about our relationship. But..."
"Now it seems like she was fishing for information," Liam finishes grimly.
I nod, feeling sick to my stomach. "Oh God, I'm so stupid."
"Hey, no," Troy says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. He moves to sit next to me on the couch, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. "You had no way of knowing. This isn't your fault."
I want to believe him, but the anxiety—and the guilt—is a lead weight in my stomach. If I had been more careful, more observant...
"Troy's right," Roman says, his tone brooking no argument. "You're not to blame for this. But now that we know you've had direct contact with her, we need to be even more vigilant. Bella, I need you to think carefully. Did she say or do anything else that seemed odd? Anything at all, no matter how small it might seem."
I rack my brain, trying to remember every moment of our interaction. "No, I don't think so. She was just nosy. But everyone is. I didn't think anything of it, so I didn't try to remember the specifics of what she was saying. Especially since she kept apologizing for spilling a drink on me."
"That's a classic surveillance technique," Savva says, glancing up from his tablet. His eyes are narrowed. "Get close to the target, create a reason for isolated contact."
"What do you mean?" I ask, my stomach dropping.
"The bathroom," Roman explains, his voice tight. "She engineered a private moment to question you without witnesses. To gather intelligence."
"And feeding that information to whoever planned the hit," Troy adds grimly.
I feel the blood drain from my face as the implications sink in. All this time, I thought that encounter was just an awkward moment at a party.
But it was calculated.
Deliberate.
I'd been profiled without even knowing it.
"Bella." Liam's voice is gentle, drawing my attention to him. "I know this is a lot to take in. But I want you to remember something. You're stronger than you think. Those self-defense lessons? They're not just for show. You're learning real skills that could save your life."
I offer him a weak smile despite my nervous laugh. "Thanks, Liam. Guess I just never thought I'd need to use them, you know?"
"No one ever does," Cole says quietly. "But when the moment comes, you'll be ready."
His words settle over me, chasing away some of the chill that's taken root in my bones. I nod, straightening my spine. "Okay. What do you need me to do?"
Roman's lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile. "That's the spirit. For now, I need you to go about your daily routine as normally as possible. But I want you to be hyper-aware of your surroundings. If anything seems off, no matter how small, you tell one of us immediately. Understood?"
"Understood," I echo, my voice stronger than I feel.
"And Bella?" Troy adds, his blue eyes serious for once. "Screw being nice. I know it's what's expected of you, but it doesn't matter. If someone makes you uncomfortable, even if you can't put your finger on why, tell them to go fuck themselves."
A surprised laugh bubbles up in my throat. "Screw being nice," I repeat. "I think I can manage that."
The alphas exchange approving glances, and I feel a warmth bloom in my chest. They believe in me. They think I'm capable of protecting myself.
When was the last time anyone believed in me?
As the meeting breaks up, the alphas moving off to implement whatever new security measures they've cooked up, I find myself lingering. There's still one question burning in the back of my mind, one I'm almost afraid to ask.
"Roman?" I call out softly. He turns back to me, one eyebrow raised in question. "Do you think she's going to try again? To hurt us?"
He's quiet for a long moment, and I can see him weighing his words carefully. Finally, he says, "I think we have to operate under the assumption that she will. But Bella, I need you to understand something. We won't let anything happen to you. Any of us would die before we let her hurt you."
It takes me a moment to process what he just said.
"Why?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "Why do you care so much? I'm just a client. Just some omega you barely know."
Roman hesitates. For a moment, I think he might say more, might finally give voice to the strange energy that's been building between us—between all of us—since they arrived.
But then his professional mask slips back into place. "Because it's our job," he says simply, though his voice is hoarse for some reason. "And because you deserve to be safe. To be happy."
I nod, not quite believing him but not having the energy to argue. As he turns to go, I call out one last time. "Roman?"
He pauses, looking back at me over his shoulder.
"Thank you," I say softly. "All of you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You'd figure it out," he says. "You're stronger than you know, Bella. Never forget that."
As he walks away, I sink back onto the couch, my mind reeling. So much has changed in such a short time. So much has gotten… weird. This whole thing with the Vanguard Pack has me second guessing everything.
But I have much bigger things to worry about now.
Like staying alive.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. One thing at a time, I tell myself. First, I need to stay safe.
Everything else...
Well, I'll figure that out as I go.
But deep down, I know things will never be the same. The careful facade I've built around myself is crumbling, revealing the uncertain omega underneath. The omega who wants more than the life that's been mapped out for her.
The omega who, despite everything, is starting to hope for something better.
As I sit there, lost in thought, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching. I look up to see Cole hovering awkwardly at the edge of the room, his scarred face half-hidden in shadow.
"You okay?" he asks gruffly, not quite meeting my eyes.
I consider lying, pasting on the fake smile I've perfected over months of playing the perfect omega fiancée. But something about Cole's presence, about the genuine concern I can see peeking through his gruff exterior, makes me want to be honest.
"No," I admit softly. "I'm not okay. I'm scared and confused and... and I don't know what to do."
He's quiet for a long moment, and I start to wonder if I've said too much. If I've made him uncomfortable with my honesty. But then he moves closer, lowering himself onto the couch next to me. He leaves a careful distance between us, but I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
"Being scared is normal," he says, his voice low and gravelly. "Anyone who says they're not scared in a situation like this is either lying or stupid."
A surprised laugh escapes me. "Are you calling Roman stupid?"
The corner of Cole's mouth twitches in what might be the ghost of a smile. "Roman's a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. He's scared too. He just hides it better."
I turn to look at him fully, struck by the raw honesty in his voice. He glances away, down at his hands, as if his knuckles are suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. "How do you do it?" I ask. "How do you keep going when you're terrified?"
He's quiet for a long moment, and I start to think he's not going to answer. But then he says, "You acknowledge the fear. You let yourself feel it. And then you use it."
"Use it?" I echo, not quite understanding.
He nods. "Fear can paralyze you if you let it. Or it can sharpen your senses, make you more aware. More alive." His eyes meet mine, intense and unblinking. "Fear means you have something to lose. Something worth fighting for."
His words resonate deep in my chest. I think about my family, about the life I thought I wanted. And then I think about the Vanguard Pack. About the way they make me feel seen and valued in a way I never have before.
"I don't want to lose this," I whisper, not even sure what 'this' is exactly. This newfound strength? This sense of possibility? This connection I feel with five alphas I barely know?
And yet I feel like I've known them my entire life.
Cole's hand twitches, like he wants to reach out and touch me. But he holds himself back, his jaw clenching. "Then don't," he says simply. "Fight for it."
I nod, feeling something settle in my chest. A resolve I didn't know I possessed. "I will," I promise, as much to myself as to him.
We sit there in companionable silence for a while and I find myself studying his profile, tracing the lines of scar tissue I can see from this angle. I want to ask him about them, about the story behind his white hair and haunted eyes. But I know he's not ready to share that yet.
Maybe someday.
"I should go," Cole says abruptly, pushing himself to his feet. "Patrol to run."
I nod, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment I feel at his departure. "Of course. Thank you, Cole. For everything."
He pauses, looking back at me. His harsh features soften. "You're going to be okay, Bella," he says softly. "I promise."
And then he's gone, melting back into the shadows like he was never there. But the warmth of his presence lingers, chasing away some of the fear that's been gnawing at my insides.
The rest is going to be up to me, though.
I'm tired of being a pawn in someone else's game. Tired of letting fear and obligation dictate my choices.
It's time to start fighting for what I want.
Even if I'm not entirely sure what that is yet.