Chapter 42 – SAVVA
CHAPTER 42
SAVVA
I watch with quiet fascination as Bella transforms the guest room into something entirely new. We've barely returned from Sweetwater, bags and boxes still being carried in from the SUV, when her demeanor shifts. The nervous energy that's been building during our drive back suddenly focuses into purpose.
"I need to start building my nest," she announces, her voice carrying an unfamiliar certainty that draws all of us to attention.
Her heat is progressing precisely on schedule. The caramel coffee notes are deepening with a honeyed sweetness that pulls at my more basal instincts. Instincts I typically keep buried beneath the thin veneer of civility.
Roman immediately takes charge of the logistical aspects. "Troy, grab the refreshments. Liam, help me move the furniture. Cole, bring in the nesting supplies. I'll clear space in the main bedroom."
I note how he doesn't assign me a task directly. Roman knows I function best when allowed to observe first, then contribute where my particular skills are most needed. It's one of the many ways he demonstrates his understanding of our pack dynamics.
"The guest room I chose," Bella says, stopping Roman with a hand on his arm. "I want to use that room. It felt right from the beginning."
Roman pauses, recalculating. "Are you sure? My room is larger, with the attached bathroom?—"
"The guest room feels like mine already," she insists, her green eyes bright with certainty. "The light is perfect, and the view of the lake..."
"Of course," Roman acquiesces immediately. "Whatever you prefer."
I follow as our small procession moves toward the guest room Bella selected upon our arrival. It's a good choice—southeast facing, with excellent natural light and a comfortable proximity to both the kitchen and the main bathroom.
Within minutes, the room becomes a hub of focused activity. Liam and Roman drag every mattress in the house into the room to cover nearly the entire floor. Cole carries in box after box of materials from Soft Spot, setting them down in the corner. Troy bustles about arranging water bottles, energy bars, and fresh fruit on the nightstand, already planning for the marathon ahead.
Bella is already tearing into packages and spreading fabrics across the mattresses. Her movements have an instinctual purpose to them, as if she's remembering rather than learning.
"I've never done this before," she murmurs, looking slightly surprised at her own actions as she arranges a piece of thick velvet in a sweeping arc.
"Instinct will guide you," I tell her, stepping further into the room.
She looks up at me, her hands still moving among the fabrics. "It feels like I'm remembering something I never knew I forgot."
"Precisely." I kneel beside her on the gigantic makeshift bed, noting how she's already begun categorizing materials by texture rather than color—heavy, plush fabrics forming the base layer, lighter silks and satins set aside for later. "Omega nesting behaviors are among the most deeply encoded genetic memories people possess."
Troy snorts at me from where he's arranging drinks. "Leave it to you to make this sound like a science lecture."
I ignore him, focusing instead on Bella's progress. "You're creating concentric circles," I observe. "Outer ring for protection, inner layers for comfort and security."
"I didn't realize I was doing that," Bella says, looking down at her work with new understanding. "Could you hand me that blue plush?" she asks, pointing to a bolt of fabric near my knee.
I handle her the fabric, admiring the way Bella's omega nature guides her movements. She works with increasing confidence as she arranges each piece, tucking corners and smoothing wrinkles with meticulous care.
"It needs to be perfect," she murmurs, more to herself than to me.
"It will be," I assure her, passing another length of velvet when she reaches for it. "Your instincts know exactly what you need."
Roman appears in the doorway, arms laden with additional pillows from the living room sofa. "Where do you want these?" he asks, his usual commanding presence softened around the edges when addressing her.
She glances around the room. "Around the outer edge, I think. For structure."
As Roman arranges the pillows according to her specifications, I catch a glimpse of Cole hovering in the hallway, holding something in his scarred hand. He hesitates as if he isn't sure if he should enter the developing nest.
I raise an eyebrow at him in silent question.
Bella looks up, her hands stilling on the fabric she's arranging. "Hi," she says sweetly to him, eyes flicking to his hand. "What is that?"
Cole steps forward reluctantly, revealing what he's been hiding. A small wooden wolf carved from what appears to be cherry wood. For some reason, I'm surprised it isn't howling. He carved it in a standing pose, ears erect and head held high, looking down like a watchful protector.
The symbolism isn't lost on me.
"Made this for you," he says to her in that gravelly voice.
"Cole," she breathes, extending her hand. "It's beautiful."
I watch the exchange with interest, noting how Cole's typically guarded expression softens as Bella accepts his gift. He's been significantly less tense lately.
"Thank you," Bella says, placing the wolf carefully on the windowsill overlooking the mountain view and positioning it so it faces the developing nest. A guardian for her most vulnerable time.
Troy barrels in with another armload of supplies, nearly tripping over a roll of fabric in his enthusiasm. He almost slams into Cole as a result, but the more agile alpha steps aside just in time with a growl.
"I raided the linen closet," Troy announces, dumping an assortment of blankets and sheets onto an empty corner of the mattress. "Some of these have been washed with our detergent, so they've got pack scent on them already."
"Perfect," Bella says, reaching for a navy blue throw I recognize as one Troy often claims during movie nights. She buries her face in it briefly, inhaling deeply before incorporating it into the developing structure.
I catch Roman's eye across the room, noting how his pupils dilate slightly at the sight of Bella surrounded by our communal scents. His alpha instincts are clearly engaged, though his control, as always, remains impeccable.
"What else do you need?" Roman asks, his voice deeper than usual as he fights to maintain his composure.
Bella looks around the room, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Something to serve as the central cushion, I think. The heart of the nest."
"I've got just the thing," Liam calls from the doorway before disappearing down the hallway. He returns moments later with what appears to be a large, circular tasseled cushion large enough to sleep on. It's covered in plush charcoal gray fabric with white geometric designs.
"Where did you get that?" I ask, surprised. I thought I knew every item in our cabin.
Liam's tattooed arms flex as he carefully places the cushion in the center of Bella's developing nest. "Got this on one of our jobs in Morocco. Been keeping it for a rainy day."
Bella's eyes widen as she runs her hands over the piece. "It's perfect," she breathes, pressing down to test its firmness. "It smells so good."
"It's stuffed with lavender, chamomile, and some rare spice I'm not even gonna try to pronounce," Liam says, grinning at her approval. "Handmade by omega herbalists."
"You've been keeping this hidden all this time?" Troy asks incredulously.
Liam's shoulders lift in a casual shrug. "Was waiting for the right omega to need it."
The implication hangs in the air, unspoken but clear. He's been saving this for years, hoping to one day have an omega to offer it to. Bella's soft smile makes it clear she gets it.
"Thank you, Liam," she says, already incorporating the cushion into her nest. She hums as she arranges softer fabrics around it in a spiral pattern as if the addition of this central piece has solidified her vision for the entire structure.
"I'm going to need something to hold these layers in place," she mutters, trying to secure a particularly slippery section of satin.
"Perhaps these might help," I say, reaching into one of the shopping bags from Soft Spot. I pull out a package of specialized clips designed for nest construction—another recommendation from Beth and Maggie.
"Perfect," Bella says, accepting them gratefully.
Cole, who has been silently observing from a few feet away, suddenly straightens. "Be right back," he mutters before disappearing down the hall.
I exchange a curious glance with Roman, who merely raises an eyebrow. Cole's behavior has been increasingly unpredictable since Bella entered our lives—though largely in positive ways. The biggest is his acceptance of physical contact.
It's a transformation none of us expected.
"Here," Troy says, breaking into my thoughts as he hands Bella a spray bottle. "Beth said this helps with scent integration. It's supposed to make alpha scents last longer in the fabrics."
"Thank you," Bella says, immediately rubbing the navy throw all over the cushion and then spraying the cushion. The effect is immediately noticeable, Troy's smoky fireworks scent strengthening as if he'd spent hours wrapped in the throw just this morning.
Cole returns, carrying a small wooden box. It's beautifully crafted from what looks like walnut, with subtle inlays of lighter wood forming a pattern on the lid that resembles a serpent among roses.
"For your comfort items," he explains, handing it to Bella. "To keep them safe. During your heat. If you want."
Bella accepts the box with a bright smile, running her fingers over the scale and petal patterns on the polished surface. "Did you make this too?"
Cole nods once, his eye fixed on her. "A while back. Sorry, it's… a snake. Probably not good for the nest. You could pretend it's a dragon, though."
"I love it," Bella says like he's insane for even doubting she would. "It's perfect, Cole. Thank you."
He gives her a stiff but genuine lopsided smile.
Bella opens the intricately carved box Cole gave her, her fingers tracing the serpentine pattern with obvious appreciation. She places her wooden duck inside first, nestling it carefully in a bundle of velvet as though arranging a precious jewel.
"I'd like to add something too," I say, reaching into my pocket. I've been waiting for the right moment. "It's not handmade, but I thought you might appreciate it."
I present her with a small silk pouch, midnight blue with silver embroidery. Bella takes it curiously, loosening the drawstring to reveal a delicate glass vial filled with amber liquid.
"It's a custom scent," I explain as she examines it. "Created by a perfumer in Paris who specializes in omega comfort blends. Notes of saffron, bergamot, and vanilla—designed to complement the caramel notes in your natural scent."
Her eyes widen. "When did you get this?"
"I called in a favor while we were still in Los Angeles," I reply. "Had it expressed to the post office in Sweetwater. I slipped away to collect it while we were at Soft Spot."
"You sneaky bastard," Troy says admiringly from across the room. "So that's where you disappeared to."
I roll my eyes at him. So he did notice.
Bella carefully uncorks the vial to take a delicate sniff. Her eyes flutter shut. "It smells perfect, Savva. Thank you. This means so much."
I nod, stepping back to give her space. Even this small offering feels significant. We may not be Worthington empire levels of wealthy, but that doesn't mean we can't give her a secure and happy life full of the finer things she deserves as an omega. Things she hasn't been allowed to enjoy during her time with Braxley.
If she chooses us forever, that is.
"My turn," Liam announces, stepping forward. He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small well-worn book bound in soft leather. The spine is creased from repeated opening, the pages slightly yellowed with age.
"It's a collection of poetry," he says. "Passed down through my family. Thought you might like having something to read during the quieter moments."
Bella accepts the book with visible surprise. "Liam, this is obviously precious to you. Are you sure?"
"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't," he says with a grin.
Bella leafs through the little book, stopping at a page marked with a pressed wildflower. "Thank you," she says softly, placing the book in the box alongside her other treasures.
Roman clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I have something as well."
This is unexpected. Roman, for all his leadership qualities, is not given to sentimental gestures. I watch with interest as he produces a small object from his pocket—a polished river stone, dark gray with a perfect white circle in its center.
"I found this years ago, during training in northern Italy," he explains, his deep voice unusually hesitant. "It's been a... reminder. That even in chaos, there can be perfect balance."
He places it in Bella's palm, where it fits as though made for her hand.
Bella closes her fingers around the stone, holding it tightly. "It's warm," she observes.
"I've carried it every day," Roman says simply.
"Well, shit," Troy mutters, looking uncharacteristically flustered. "If I'd known we were doing meaningful gifts, I wouldn't have gone with this."
He produces the most ridiculous stuffed animal I've ever seen—a plush, well-worn golden retriever the size of a Christmas ornament wearing sunglasses, a pink felt tongue sticking out of its mouth, and a white shirt that reads "Alpha Dog." It's absurdly cheerful, completely at odds with the more serious offerings from the rest of us.
"It's perfect," Bella laughs, accepting it with genuine delight. "Absolutely perfect."
"Really?" Troy looks relieved. "I've had him since I was in boot camp. Thought he'd make you laugh."
"I love him," she says happily, squeezing the toy into her box alongside Roman's stone and the other more serious items in her growing collection. "Does he have a name?"
Troy chuckles and rubs the back of his head. "Caesar."
As they laugh together, my contribution feels oddly impersonal now. My hand moves instinctively to my pocket, fingers brushing against the familiar weight of my pocketwatch. I've carried it with me through fourteen countries, countless missions, and every significant moment of my adult life.
"Wait," I say, just as Bella begins to close the lid. "I have something else."
All eyes turn to me as I unclip the pocketwatch from the belt loop of my slacks and lift it out by the chain, dangling it in the sunlight above Bella's outstretched palm as she stares curiously at it. Not unlike a kitten reaching for a string.
"This belonged to my grandfather, and his father before him," I explain, gently lowering it into her hand. I watch her, mesmerized as she runs her fingertips across the Cryllic engravings on the polished case, worn almost smooth from generations of handling. "It's survived revolutions, wars, and all my questionable career choices."
Bella's eyes widen as she takes in the antique timepiece. "Savva, I can't take this. It's clearly precious to you."
"That's precisely why I'm offering it for your nest," I reply. "The others have given you pieces of themselves. I'd like to do the same."
"Are you sure?" Bella asks breathlessly, and I nod. Smiling nervously, she carefully opens the case to reveal the delicate clockwork within. The watch still keeps perfect time, despite being nearly a century old. "Wow…"
"My grandfather always said time is the only true constant," I tell her. "No matter what chaos surrounds us, the seconds continue their steady march forward."
Bella closes the watch with reverent care and places it in the wooden box, nestled in the velvet in a spot that's just the right size, as if it were made for the watch. "Thank you," she says softly. "I'll guard it with my life."
"Maybe not that," I say with a wry grin.
She laughs a little and secures the lid, then rises to place the box on the windowsill beside the carved wolf Cole gave her. With the box safely positioned, Bella turns her attention back to the nest, crawling into the center and beginning to arrange the fabrics around herself.
Roman clears his throat. "We should give you some privacy to finish setting up your space," he says, a bit reluctantly.
Bella's head snaps up. "No," she says quickly. "Don't go. I want you all to stay."
"Are you sure?" I ask. "We don't want to intrude on your process."
"It's not intruding," Bella insists, sitting back on her heels amidst the fabrics. "I want your input. Besides, it's not like you all won't be in here eventually."
Troy chokes out a laugh at her directness. Bella's cheeks flush pink again, the most perfect pink I've ever seen. But she doesn't retract her statement. "I want you all tonight," she clarifies, her voice softening. "All of you. And I'd like your help finishing the nest."
Roman's posture relaxes marginally at her invitation. "What can we do?"
"First," she says with unexpected authority, "you can all stop hovering by the door like you're afraid to mess things up. Come sit."
Cole hangs back as we enter the nest, still uncertain.
"All of you," Bella repeats, eyes finding him immediately. "This is our nest. Yours too, Cole."
Already barefoot, he practically slinks into the nest, and when he's close enough, Bella reaches for his hand and pulls him in the rest of the way. He settles next to her, still visibly tense.
Troy needs no further encouragement, kicking off his boots before dropping down onto the mattresses with the enthusiasm of a dog jumping into a pile of autumn leaves. The plush toy he gave Bella was fitting. "This is comfortable as hell," he announces, sprawling dramatically. "Definitely an upgrade."
Liam rolls his eyes but joins him after removing his shoes, settling more carefully near the outer edge. "Very nice, lass," he says, running his tattooed hand over a thick burgundy blanket.
Roman and I exchange glances before slipping our shoes off and stepping onto the mattresses, careful not to disturb the arrangement Bella has so meticulously created. I sit cross-legged near her on a white fake fur throw.
"Is this comfortable for everyone?" Bella asks, looking around at us with that charming uncertainty she sometimes displays despite her growing confidence.
"It's perfect," Roman assures her.
Troy has already sprawled onto his back, arms stretched wide. "I could live in this nest forever," he declares dramatically. "Seriously. Just bring me food and I'll never leave."
Liam chuckles, settling more comfortably against a pile of pillows. "You'd leave for those cookies at Soft Spot."
"I could have cookies brought to me," Troy counters, grinning. "That's what money is for."
That earns a huff—almost a laugh—from Cole.
Bella pets his arm affectionately, like he's a feral cat that has finally sat beside her and she doesn't want to scare him off.
Then she shifts, moving from her kneeling position to sit more comfortably in the center of the nest, drawing Cole with her. The movement seems to break some invisible barrier, and suddenly we're all rearranging ourselves—not withdrawing, but moving closer to her. Troy immediately rolls toward Bella's other side. Liam stretches his legs out, nudging Troy's foot aside with his. Roman settles against the cushioned boundary of the nest, close enough to caress Bella's shoulder but not crowding.
I find myself moving almost unconsciously until I'm positioned where I can observe them all, my leg extended alongside Troy's, my shoulder brushing against Roman's.
"This is nice," Bella sighs, leaning back slightly. Cole's arm moves automatically to support her, and she ends up half-reclined against his chest. His eyes widen briefly in surprise before he cautiously settles his arm more securely around her waist.
Our bodies gravitate inward like planets pulled by her gravity, forming a protective circle around her. We collapse into what can only be described as a tangle of limbs and warmth—a cuddle pile. The sheer incongruity strikes me. Five trained killers who left bodies in their wake mere weeks ago, now nesting like contented cats.
Well… we did say we needed a break.
"Can we have dinner in here tonight?" Bella asks. "All of us, together in the nest?"
"Of course," Roman answers. "Whatever you want."
"Hell yes. Cookie delivery?" Troy asks with that puppy dog enthusiasm that somehow survived years of combat and training.
"As long as we get something other than cookies," I say dryly.
Liam laughs at that.
And Cole actually smiles.
"Perfect," Bella says, settling against all of us with a contented sigh.
The only problem with dinner in the nest is it means one of us is going to have to get up and go to the door to get it.
And that someone is certainly not going to be me.
In fact, I want this to never end.