Page 75 of The Omega Verse

But Kobi reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m guessing Finn has more to tell us.” His gaze locks on the other alpha. “If Celine has the songs, how do you know all this?”

“Because she’s on our watchlist. As soon as she became a suspect in the break-in, we gained access to all her online accounts, social media, and data storage. The moment she got back to her hotel, she scanned the documents and loaded them to her private cloud.”

Maybe I should be questioning Finn Visser’s far-reaching powers to invade personal privacy, but right now I’m just glad he’s on our side. “Can you get copies of the songs?”

Finn nods and slips a black card towards me. I think it’s a web address, but it tells me nothing; just a bunch of random letters, numbers, and symbols. “I’ve set up a personal folder for you on my server. You can access them right now, if that’s what you want.” I start to thank him, but he shakes his head. “There’s more. Celine plans to auction the entire song list to the highest bidder. She’s already reached out to potential buyers, including private collectors and a couple of music labels.”

Kobi swears under his breath, and I look at him. “I can see some of the shadier studios making a play for them. Probably to boost a former star’s career.”

I swallow, feeling sick. “You mean… pass them off as someone else’s?”

He leans down to nuzzle my neck, but I can feel the sympathy radiating off him. “Without the originals, there’s no way to prove Steven wrote them.”

Silva’s on his feet in a flash, his fists balled in rage. I gaze up at my mate, who, despite acting pretty mellow most of the time, suddenly looks exactly like a punk rocker on a rampage. “Then we go kick the bitch’s door in and steal them back!”

Finn sits back in his chair, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he watches Silva. But his voice is mild as he says, “She’ll be prepared for that. My guess is she’ll destroy them before she lets that happen.”

No way. I don’t care what we have to do, but my brother’s legacy – this secret part of him he kept safe, just for me – is not going to be torn to shreds.

“Or… we offer her something else she wants.” River’s arms are folded across his chest, his eyes hard. “Celine has a point to prove with me. She thinks Steven chose me over her, and she’s pissed I was never interested in sleeping with her. If I offer myself in exchange for the originals, she might take me up.”

My vision goes red for a second and it’s my turn to lurch to my feet. “No, River. She touches you over my dead body.”

He gives me a lop-sided smile that goes straight into my chest and pierces my heart. “That just makes me want to do this all the more, sweetheart.”

I gape at him, but Finn shrugs. “It could work if she thinks you’ll really go through with it.”

“I’ll tell her I want them for sentimental reasons. She thinks I’m a soft little omega, too heartbroken to hurt her. She might take the bait.”

I blink, confused by the calculating look in his eyes. “Bait?”

But Finn leans over the table and holds his hand out, like they’ve just made some kind of deal. “Get her to meet you with the originals in her possession, and we’ll get them off her. I promise.”

I watch them shake hands, my head spinning, but the guys are on the move. Finn dips his head in my direction and then he’s gone through the front door with barely a rattle of the old blinds. My mates stack dishes and wipe the table, a mixture of determination and impatience resonating in our bonds, but I can only focus on River. I reach up and touch his face, sweeping a thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. When I press my palm against his neck, his pulse is fast, but his skin is cool. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so sure of himself, while I’m a quaking wreck inside. “So, you’re not planning on sleeping with Celine?”

He copies my gesture, his thumb stroking my mating bites. “Sweetheart, the only girl I’m ever sleeping with is you.” My belly clenches at his possessive tone, but I don’t miss the moment his sea-blue eyes turn a stormy grey. “But this is Steven’s legacy. And that bitch is taking it from you over my dead body.”

Jett

I know something’s off as soon as I see her face. I’m down in the studio, lying on a beanbag and fiddling with one of Steven’s guitars. Not really playing anything, but just soaking up the room. I like the layout. I like the air. And I fucking love the mural of them flying down that hill on his Ghost Rider bike.

Yeah, I see the irony given how he died, but I don’t dwell on it. Steven didn’t put it there for that, didn’t name the studio because of what he was going to become. He couldn’t have, since he didn’t know how he was going to die. But he lived life by grabbing its balls, and that’s what that mural is for me. A memory of a time when he and his sister had everything against them, but still flew, because they had each other.

And how many people get to feel that in their lonely, little lives?

But Cass doesn’t look like the wild-eyed kid on the wall as she walks over to me. She has a bunch of papers in her hands and she’s been crying. I catch a glimpse of Steven’s handwriting and it’s enough to make me wonder if he’s trying to torture us both, because I fucking hate to see her cry.

“Jett,” she says in a raw voice. “There’s something you need to see.”

Oh, fuck. More haunting whispers from the grave, no doubt.

“Come here, babe,” I tell her, setting the guitar aside and pulling her into my lap. I take the papers out of her hand and set them face down. I kiss away the tear that trickles down her cheek, and the one after that, but the next one I chase to her lips. She opens under me like a flower and I lap at her sweet mouth. I can’t help it. She looks like my best friend and smells like strawberries, and the taste of her grief on my tongue is rewiring my brain. “Tell me what you need, Cassie. Want me to call the other guys down here?”

“No. They’ve read them already.” She pulls a face, like she feels guilty she left me out, or something. “I wanted to wait, but I couldn’t. I read them in the car and then printed them off in the office.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, settling her more comfortably into the curve of my shoulder. Yeah, my dick is on standby – just in case it needs to help out – but the rest of me wants to soothe away that sour edge to her scent. “Is it another letter? I can read it later, if you want.”

But she’s already shaking her head, those silky black strands tickling my neck. “No, it’s not a letter. It’s songs. From Steven.”

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