Chapter 38 – TROY
CHAPTER 38
TROY
I wake to the sound of a loon calling across the lake, that haunting wail that sounds like laughter gone wrong. The kind of sound that makes you think about ancient things, old spirits drifting over still water.
For a second, I don't know where I am. This happens sometimes—occupational hazard of waking up in too many different places over the years. My body tenses automatically, that split-second combat readiness that never quite leaves you.
Then I smell her. Bella. Caramel coffee warmth, stronger now without all those artificial scents Braxley pumped through his ridiculous penthouse. And layered through her scent, the familiar notes of my pack. My family.
Right. The cabin. The bed. All of us.
I blink awake slowly, keeping my body still as situational awareness filters back. Pre-dawn light seeps through the curtains, painting the room in blue-gray shadows. Roman is in front of me, his arm thrown over his face the way he always sleeps, like he's trying to block out the world. Liam sprawls near the foot of the bed now, one leg hanging off the edge. Savva sleeps the way he does everything—efficiently, barely moving, taking up minimal space.
Bella is curled against Cole's side, her dark hair spilling across his chest, one small hand resting over his heart. They look right together. Like matching puzzle pieces. Her soft curves against his hard angles.
And Cole... Cole isn't sleeping at all.
His one good eye is open, staring at the ceiling. The socket where his prosthetic usually sits is empty, the scarred pink tissue visible in the dim light. His hand is beneath his pillow—probably holding the removed eye—and his other arm curls protectively around Bella.
I've known this man for years. Fought beside him, bled with him, watched him destroy things and then withdraw into himself. I've seen him at his most violent and his most vulnerable. But I've never seen him look the way he does right now. Like he's found something worth protecting, and he'd burn down the world before letting it go.
My chest tightens up at the sight.
Cole deserves this. Deserves her. Deserves happiness, even if he'll never believe it himself.
I shift slightly, making my wakefulness known. No point pretending to sleep. Cole would know anyway. Man's got senses like a damn predator, even with just the one eye.
His gaze flicks to me immediately, that laser focus zeroing in on the potential threat before recognition softens the tension in his jaw.
"You're a menacing son of a bitch," I whisper, my voice rough with sleep.
Cole blows a puff of air through his nose. Not quite a laugh, but close enough for Cole standards. His good eye shifts back to the ceiling, but I can tell he's still watching me.
"How long you been awake?" I ask, keeping my voice low. Roman's snores continue uninterrupted, and Bella's breathing stays deep and even against Cole's chest.
Cole lifts one shoulder in a minimal shrug, careful not to disturb Bella. "Never slept."
I'm not surprised. Out of all of us, Cole's the one who sleeps the least. Between the physical pain from his injuries and the nightmares that still haunt him, sleep isn't exactly his friend.
"Your prosthetic bothering you?" I nod toward his face, where the empty socket is visible in the dim light. It's rare to see him without it. Cole hates showing that particular vulnerability, even to us.
"Took it out," he murmurs. "Don't sleep with it in."
That's news to me. I've slept in close quarters with Cole for years on missions, and I've never noticed that. Even in the field, he's always managed to keep that particular wall up. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to remove it with all of us here—with Bella here—says more than any words could.
"Didn't know that," I admit.
Cole's jaw tightens slightly. "Now you do."
I prop myself up on one elbow, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. This massive bed might be big enough for six people, but it's still a challenge not to disturb anyone. Roman growls something in his sleep, turning his face deeper into his pillow.
"She looks comfortable." I nod toward Bella, whose face is peaceful in sleep. Her dark lashes fan against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. Even in the dim light, I can see how perfectly she fits against Cole's side, like she was made to be there.
Cole's arm tightens fractionally around her shoulders. "Yeah."
One-word answers. Classic Cole. But I can see the stiffness in his body, the careful way he's holding himself. Like he's afraid if he relaxes too much, this might all disappear. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"You good?" I ask, knowing the loaded nature of the question. With Cole, you have to tread carefully around emotions. Push too hard and he'll shut down completely.
Cole's eye slides to me, assessing. After a moment, he gives a slight nod.
"Better than I should be," he admits, so quietly I almost miss it.
Coming from Cole, that's practically a declaration of joy. I feel a grin spread across my face, but I try to tone it down. No need to make him regret opening up.
"Good," I say simply. "That's... good. You deserve it. All of it. Her. Us. Everything."
And I mean every damn word.
Cole's jaw works silently for a moment. "No, I don't."
"Bullshit."
"Troy—"
"Absolute bullshit," I insist, still keeping my voice to a whisper. "Look, we've all got our shit. You think any of us deserve her? You think any of us deserve... this?" I gesture vaguely to encompass the bed, the pack, everything we've found. "Life's not about what you deserve. It's about what you get, and what you do with it."
Cole's silent for so long I think he might have shut down on me. But finally, he whispers, "I'm going to fuck it up. I know I am."
This is the real Cole. Not the hardened warrior, not the scary motherfucker who can make grown men piss themselves with one look. This is the wounded man beneath all that. The one who's terrified of losing the one good thing that's happened to him since everything went to shit.
"You won't," I assure him. Then, because I know Cole needs honesty more than platitudes, I add, "And if you do, we'll be here to kick your ass and help you fix it."
That gets me another almost-laugh, this one accompanied by a slight shake of his head. "Pack of fucking idiots."
"Your pack of fucking idiots," I correct him with a grin.
"God help me."
Bella makes a small sound in her sleep, shifting against Cole's side. Her fingers curl more firmly against his chest, like she's making sure he's still there. Cole freezes immediately, his whole body going still as he waits to see if she'll wake. When she settles back into sleep, he exhales slowly, relief evident in the way his shoulders relax.
The tenderness in his expression as he looks down at her makes my chest knot up. Cole, our Cole who pushes everyone away, who hides behind walls of anger and self-loathing, is looking at this woman like she hung the fucking moon.
"She's not what I expected," I admit, watching the way Bella's dark hair spills across Cole's scarred chest.
Cole's eye narrows. "What's that mean?"
Always so defensive. I raise my hand in a placating gesture. "Just that when Roman told us we were protecting some rich asshole's omega fiancée, I pictured... I don't know. Someone different. Someone who matched Braxley."
"Fake," Cole supplies.
"Yeah." I nod. "Someone with too much money and too little sense. Not..."
"Not Bella," Cole finishes for me.
"Not Bella," I agree. "She's..."
I struggle to find the right words. How do you describe someone who's walked into your life and instantly become essential? Someone whose scent feels like coming home to a place you didn't know you were missing?
"Real," Cole says softly, the word carrying a weight that fills the spaces between us. "She's real."
And that's it exactly. In a world full of people wearing masks—including us, especially us—Bella is genuinely herself. No pretenses. No walls. Just a woman with a gentle heart and unexpected strength who somehow managed to see past all of our defenses to the men beneath.
"You're good for her," I tell him, watching the way his arm curls protectively around her small frame. "She needs someone who sees her. Really sees her."
Cole's expression darkens. "She deserves better."
"Than what?" I challenge him quietly. "Better than a man who would die to protect her? Better than someone who looks at her like she's the most precious thing in the world? Better than someone who's never going to take her for granted the way that entitled prick did?"
Cole's silent for a long moment, his eye fixed on Bella's sleeping face. "Better than a fucking monster," he finally says, so quietly I almost don't hear it.
And there it is. The core of Cole's self-loathing.
"You're not a monster, Cole." I keep my voice firm but quiet. "Never have been."
"Look at me, Troy." His voice is flat, emotionless.
I do. I look at the scars that twist across his face, the empty socket where his eye should be, the permanent snarl where scar tissue pulls his lip back to expose a few teeth. I look at the man who's saved my life more times than I can count, who's had my back in firefights and bar brawls, who carves beauty out of wood with hands that can kill other alphas without hesitation.
"I'm looking," I tell him. "I see my brother. I see a man who survived hell and came out the other side. I see someone who's taken more hits than anyone should have to and still gets up every morning and keeps fighting."
Cole's jaw tightens, eye shifting away from mine. "Poetic bullshit."
"Maybe," I concede with a small shrug. "Doesn't make it less true."
Silence falls between us, broken only by the soft sounds of our sleeping packmates and Bella's gentle breathing. Outside, the loon calls again across the lake, that eerie wailing laugh that sounds like sorrow.
Cole just keeps watching Bella, studying the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the way her hand rests over his heart. For a moment, his expression is so unguarded, so full of wonder and fragile hope, it makes my throat tighten up.
Shit. I've gotten way too fucking emotional.
Then, as if sensing my gaze, he shutters it again. Not completely—not like before—but enough that I know he's reached his limit for emotional vulnerability.
"You need to sleep," he tells me, reverting to the practical.
I stretch slightly, careful not to disturb Roman beside me. "Probably. You too."
"I'm fine."
"You haven't slept in what, thirty-six hours?" I raise an eyebrow. "Even you need rest, Cole."
He shrugs the shoulder that isn't supporting Bella. "I'll sleep when I need to."
Typical Cole answer. Always pushing himself, always believing he needs to be the one standing watch while others rest. As if he doesn't deserve the same comforts as everyone else.
"We're safe here," I remind him. "Home turf. Roman's security systems would alert us if anyone came within five miles."
"Still."
I sigh, knowing this is one battle I won't win. Cole's hypervigilance isn't something that can be argued away. It's too deeply ingrained, too much a part of who he is now.
"Alright," I concede. "But if you change your mind, I've got watch. You can stand down, soldier."
Cole's mouth quirks slightly at the corner that can still move. "Noted."
I settle back against my pillow, feeling the solid warmth of Roman's back against mine. The early morning light is growing stronger now, filtering through the curtains in pale violet streaks. Soon, the others will be waking up. This quiet moment between Cole and me will disappear into the busy rhythm of the day.
But something has shifted. Some wall has lowered, just slightly. A bridge extended between us that wasn't there before.
"Troy," Cole's voice is barely audible now, pitched so low that only I could possibly hear it.
"Yeah?"
His eye meets mine across the dim space between us. "Thanks."
One word. Just one.
But from Cole, it might as well be a novel.
I nod, understanding everything he isn't saying. The gratitude isn't just for our conversation, or for my reassurance. It's for accepting him as he is. For being pack when he thought he'd never have one. For helping him find his way back from the darkness he'd buried himself in for so long.
"Always," I whisper back, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "That's what pack's for."
Cole's eye holds mine for a moment longer. Then he gives me a slight nod and returns his watchful gaze to Bella.
I close my eyes, feeling the gentle pull of sleep tugging me back under. The last thing I see before I drift off is Cole's arm tightening protectively around our omega, his hardened face peaceful in the growing dawn light.
And for the first time since I've known him, he looks like he's home.