Page 3 of Claimed By the Band

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Ace.

ACE: Nice work. Clean getaway?

I glance around the cafe, making sure no one's paying me any undue attention. The waitress from earlier is studiously avoiding my corner. Everyone else is absorbed in their own little worlds.

All clear. No complications.

ACE: Good. Got another job lined up if you're interested. Big payout.

I hesitate, fingers hovering over the keys. I should say no. I've got enough saved up to last a while, and every job is a risk. But the thought of going back to my empty apartment, of days stretching out with nothing but my own thoughts for company...

I'm listening.

ACE: Tech conference next month. Lots of big players, lots of secrets. Client wants intel on new security protocols.

Corporate espionage, huh? Wouldn't be the first time.

Tech conferences are a goldmine of information, but they're also crawling with security. It would be a challenge, that's for sure.

Sounds interesting. What's the catch?

There's a pause before Ace responds.

ACE: It's in Bayview.

I freeze, a chill running down my spine. It's almost the last place I want to go, only thirty minutes from the small town I fled from nearly a decade ago. Too many memories, too many ghosts.

But the challenge... the thrill of infiltration, of matching wits with the best minds in the industry. It's tempting, despite the risks.

And the money would probably fund my other projects for a year at least.

Need time to think about it.

ACE: Understood. Just let me know by the end of the week.

I set the phone down, my mind whirling. Bayview. Could I really go back there? Face all the things I've been running from for so long?

A cheer goes up from a nearby table, drawing my attention. A group of college kids are huddled around a laptop, watching some viral video.

Time for me to go.

And now, I've gotta find a new coffee shop.

2

DANTE

The antiseptic smell of the hospital burns my nostrils as I lean against the wall outside Knox's room. Asher is in there with him, since the big guy is still unconscious after a four-hour surgery to fix his broken eye socket.

Fucking alphas and our hero complexes.

Not that I can talk. I was right there with him when those assholes rushed the stage.

Maybe I'm just a little jealous he's gonna get a cool scar out of it.

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots. The adrenaline from the attack has long since faded, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and simmering rage.

How dare they? How fucking dare they attack our pack, our omega?

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