Chapter 23 – ROMAN
CHAPTER 23
ROMAN
T he urge to roll my eyes is stronger than ever as I lean against the wall of Braxley's "content creation studio," half listening as he prattles on about his latest skincare routine. The camera's red light blinks steadily, recording every inane comment and exaggerated facial expression. It's been two hours of this nonsense, and my patience is wearing dangerously thin.
At least I'm not the only one suffering. Cole looks like he's going to die if this doesn't stop. And soon.
"And now, my loves, we come to the holy grail of any alpha's grooming routine," Braxley coos, holding up a small jar of milky white substance that looks suspiciously like semen. "This miracle cream that's illegal in thirty-two countries will tighten your pores, reduce fine lines, and give you that irresistible glow that'll have omegas falling at your feet."
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to point out that no amount of overpriced goop is going to fix what's wrong with him. But I'm a professional, so I keep my mouth shut and my eyes on the exits. It's my job to keep this insufferable prick alive, not critique his life choices.
No matter how much I might want to.
"It's even helped with my horrible scar," Braxley continues, setting down the jar with exaggerated care. "As you can see, this cream has restored my face to its former glory."
He bats his eyelashes and I swear I physically feel my blood pressure spike. Judging from the way Cole's lip is curled more than usual, he feels the same way.
As Braxley saunters toward the adjoining bathroom, I notice he's left his phone on the makeup table, screen lit up and unlocked.
I normally wouldn't snoop, but something about the way the notifications are pinging rapid-fire makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And it is my job to know what the hell is going on with this guy. Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm moving toward the table, eyes scanning the screen.
What I see makes my blood run cold.
It's a dating app. One I recognize from some of our seedier protection gigs. And there, clear as day, is an active conversation with a woman on an app called AlphaBabes. The latest message pops up as I watch.
["Hey stud, we still on for tonight?"]
Kiss emoji and all.
The roaring in my ears drowns out everything else. All I can see is red. All I can think about is Bella. Sweet, beautiful Bella, who deserves so much better than this cheating piece of shit.
Before I can stop myself, before I can even think about the consequences, I'm moving. The bathroom door slams open under my hand, the wood splintering around the lock.
Braxley yelps, spinning around with a jade face roller still pressed to his cheek. "What the fu?—"
I don't let him finish. My hand closes around his throat, slamming him back against the tiled wall hard enough to rattle the expensive artwork hanging there. He squeaks in terror, eyes wide as saucers as I lean in close, a growl rumbling deep in my chest.
"You fucking bastard," I snarl, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. "How could you do this to her?"
Braxley's hands scrabble uselessly at my arm, his designer nails leaving red welts on my skin. But I barely feel it. All I can focus on is the pathetic excuse for an alpha in front of me, the one who dared to betray our omega.
Our omega.
The thought only fuels my rage. Bella isn't even mine—isn't ours—to defend. But at this moment, that distinction means nothing.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about!" Braxley chokes out, his voice high and reedy with fear.
I lean in closer, close enough that I can smell the expensive skincare products oozing from his pores. "Don't. Lie. To. Me." Each word is punctuated by a tightening of my grip. "I saw your fucking app. You're cheating on Bella."
Something flickers in Braxley's eyes.
Guilt? Shame?
No.
It's relief.
Like he's glad the charade is finally over.
"It's not a big deal!" he gasps, still struggling for air.
For a moment, I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything but stare at this pathetic excuse for an alpha who's treating the omega who's trapped in a relationship with him like she's nothing more than a prop in his perfect life.
My vision goes red around the edges. The alpha instincts I usually keep carefully leashed roar to the surface.
I want to hurt him.
Want to make him suffer for every moment of pain he's caused Bella.
Want to?—
"He's not worth it, Roman."
Cole's quiet voice cuts through the haze of rage like a knife. I hadn't even heard him approach, but there he is, standing in the doorway. His scarred face is impassive, but the tension in his shoulders is clear, the way his hands are clenched at his sides. He’s so tense, the tendons in his hands and forearms stand out even where his skin is badly scarred.
"Bella needs us functional," Cole continues, his voice low and steady. "Not behind bars."
That earns a loud gulp from Braxley.
The words sink in slowly, fighting through the red mist of anger clouding my mind. He's right. Of course he's right. As much as I want to tear Braxley limb from limb, it won't help Bella. It won't fix anything.
With a growl of frustration, I release my hold on Braxley's throat. He crumples to the floor, gasping and clutching at his neck. Already, bruises are forming where my fingers dug in.
Good.
I crouch down, getting right in his face. He flinches back, but there's nowhere for him to go. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone," I growl, my voice low and dangerous as I gesture between us, "I'll make sure every single one of your dirty little secrets ends up online. And trust me, I'll enjoy watching your perfect image burn."
Braxley nods frantically, still wheezing. "I won't... I won't say anything. I swear."
"And," I add, "you have twenty-four hours to tell Bella you're cheating on her."
"I'm not anymore!" Braxley whines. "I haven't cheated on her in months. I quit, I swear. I was going to call the whole thing off before tonight. It's just harmless messages online?—"
"Twenty. Four. Hours," I growl.
He gulps again, audibly, and gives me a shaky nod.
I stand, looking down at him with disgust. Part of me wants to kick him while he's down, to really drive the message home. But I've already crossed too many lines today.
Instead, I turn on my heel and stalk out of the bathroom, shouldering past Cole. I need to get out of here before I do something I'll regret.
Or something I won't regret nearly enough.
As I stride down the hallway, my mind races. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Bella deserves to know the truth. She deserves better than this farce of a relationship, this mockery of what should be a sacred bond.
But it's not my place to tell her.
The knowledge sits like acid in my gut as I think about how she was before she left to meet Skye at the cafe, still unaware of just how deep Braxley's betrayal runs. She looked so happy when I last saw her, a spark of life in her eyes that's been missing since we arrived.
How can I be the one to extinguish that spark?
I make it to the guest wing before the adrenaline crash hits me. My hands are shaking, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I lean against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor, my head in my hands.
What the fuck have I done?
I just assaulted our fucking client.
If Braxley decides to press charges, we're fucked. The whole team. Our reputation, our livelihood, everything we've worked for—gone in an instant.
For Bella.
I did it for her. For the omega who's somehow wormed her way past all my defenses, who's become more important to me than I ever thought possible.
The omega who isn't mine.
Who might never be mine.
And I don’t regret it one bit.
"Fuck," I growl, scrubbing a hand over my face.
"That about sums it up."
I look up to see Cole leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are stone cold.
"How bad did I fuck up?" I mutter.
Cole shrugs, a barely perceptible movement. "Depends on whether Worthington decides to make an issue of it. My guess? He won't. Too much risk of his own dirty laundry coming to light."
I nod, some of the tightness easing from my shoulders. Cole's right. Braxley has too much to lose by going public with this. His carefully cultivated image would crumble if even a fraction of what we know came out.
"Still," I say, pushing myself to my feet, “I shouldn't have lost control like that. I could’ve killed the little shit.”
"It was human," Cole counters, his voice quiet but firm. "You care about her. We all do."
The admission hangs in the air between us. Even he’s starting to fall for her. I can tell from his guilty tone, from the way he’s staring somberly at the floor.
"What do we do now?" I ask, hating how lost I sound. I'm the leader. I'm supposed to have all the answers. But right now, I feel like I'm drowning.
Cole is quiet for a long moment, his mismatched eyes distant. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. "We protect her. From Braxley, from Heather, from anyone who tries to hurt her. And when the time comes... we let her choose."
"And if she chooses him?" I ask, voicing the fear that's been gnawing at me since the moment I realized Bella was our mate.
Cole's expression hardens, the scars on the right side of his face pulling tight. "Then we do our job. We keep her safe. And we live with it."
The finality in his voice is like a knife straight to my heart. Because I know he's right. If Bella chooses Braxley—if she decides to stay in this gilded cage of a life—we'll have to respect that.
No matter how much it might kill us.