Page 14 of Claimed By the Band

"What do we need to do?" Knox asks, leaning forward.

"I'm sending you a link to a secure drop box," Echo replies. "Put everything you have in there—police reports, venue contacts, security footage, anything related to the case. I'll be in touch."

Silas frowns. "That's it?"

"If I'm involved, I'm calling the shots," Echo says, an edge of steel in his voice. "Period."

And with that, the call disconnects, leaving us staring at a blank screen.

For a long moment, no one speaks. We're all trying to process the enigma that is Echo. Finally, I break the silence.

"I like him," I declare, grinning.

Damon, Knox, and Silas turn to me with identical expressions of bewilderment.

"You're joking, right?" Knox sputters. "The guy's a complete asshole!"

I shrug. "Maybe. But he's an asshole who's on our side. And I have a feeling he's exactly what we need."

Dante laughs, coming over to sling an arm around my shoulders. "Only you could charm a faceless hacker, babe."

I lean into him, some of the tension finally leaving my body. "What can I say?" I ask dryly. "It's a gift."

6

JORDAN

The industrial loft buzzes with the sound of clicking keys and quiet conversation. I hunker down in my corner by a huge, dusty window, grateful for the relative anonymity of the coworking space. It's not my usual haunt, but I needed a change of scenery. The same four walls of my apartment were starting to close in on me after so many days on end.

I pull up the secure drop box, sifting through the files Wild Honey sent over. Police reports, venue contacts, security footage—it's a treasure trove of information. But so far, it's yielding jack shit in terms of actual leads.

The door chimes, and a group of alphas saunters in, all broad shoulders and cocky grins. My nose wrinkles at their scent—musk and overpriced cologne. They're loud, laughing and jostling each other as they claim a cluster of desks across the room.

Fuck.

I fish a suppressant out of my pocket, dry-swallowing it before the alphas' pheromones can wreak havoc on my system. It's not that I'm in danger of going into heat or anything. The military-grade blockers I'm on make sure of that. But being around alphas still sets me on edge, makes my skin crawl in a way I can't quite explain.

I turn back to my work, determined to ignore them. The security footage from the concert is grainy, but I can make out the chaos unfolding on stage. Asher Wilde stands defiant in the center, microphone stand brandished like a weapon. His packmates form a protective circle around him as the crowd surges forward, driven mad by whatever gas the attackers used.

It's impressive, really. Most omegas would have crumpled in the face of that many crazed alphas. But Asher... he's something else entirely.

I shake my head, banishing the thought. I can't afford to get caught up in hero worship. Not when I've got a job to do.

"Hey, dude!"

I grit my teeth, pointedly not looking up from my screen. Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away.

No such luck.

"Yo, laptop guy! We need a tiebreaker over here!"

With a sigh, I turn to face the group of alphas. "Not interested," I say flatly, keeping my voice low and gruff.

One of them—a beefy blond with a shit-eating grin—waves me over. "Come on, man. It'll just take a second."

I weigh my options. Engaging with them is the last thing I want to do, but if I don't, they might keep pestering me. And the sooner I shut this down, the sooner I can get back to work.

"Fine," I growl, pushing away from my desk. "What's the debate?"

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