Page 43 of Claimed By the Band

Before any of us can react, he sprays a fine mist directly at Lily. The effect is immediate and horrifying. Her eyes glaze over, posture softening as she sways on her feet. A low, needy whine escapes her throat.

"You see?" Vince says, triumph coloring his voice. "Complete submission. Practically heat in a bottle, without all the inconvenient build up. She'll do anything you want now. Anything at all."

A low rumble builds in my throat before I cut it off, but I'm not as good at hiding the disgust written all over my face.

The way this creep speaks about omegas and their heats, like they're just sex toys waiting for any alpha to use them however they please. Like everything else attached, from their needs to their personalities, is just inconvenient wrapping to be discarded.

Lily takes a stumbling step forward, reaching for Vince with trembling hands. "Alpha," she breathes, her voice thick with artificial desire. “Please...please…”

"That's enough." Silas’s voice cracks like a whip, cutting through the tension. "Turn it off. Now."

For a moment, I think Vince is going to argue. But something in Silas’s expression must give him pause. He pulls out another bottle, spraying Lily with what I assume is some kind of antidote.

The change is gradual but unmistakable. Clarity creeps back into Lily's eyes, followed quickly by shame. She wraps her arms around herself, blushing.

I want nothing more than to get her out of here, to make sure she's safe and as far away from this creep as possible. But we can't blow our cover. Not when we're so close to getting what we came for.

"Good girl," Vince says, giving her a condescending pat on the head. "You can go now."

She gives him a slight smile and, for reasons I can't possibly fathom, a flirtatious touch on the arm before disappearingthrough the curtains. Why the hell would any omega want to work for this guy?

"Your products are certainly effective," Dante chimes in, always the diplomat even if I can tell he wants to rip the guy apart as much as the rest of us. I'm pretty sure poor Knox is doing his breathing exercises to keep in control, the way his nostrils are flared and he keeps staring off into space like he's trying not to lose it. "But we came here for something a bit different."

"Oh?" Vince asks, tilting his head. "What do you mean?"

Dante and Asher exchange a look before Dante continues, "I'm sure you've heard about what happened at one of our recent concerts."

"Yes, of course," Vince says in a tone of clearly fake concern. He's not a very good actor. "It's terrible what the world is coming to."

"Sure is," Dante says through his teeth. "But after what happened, we started doing some research. Trying to figure out if there was anything that could prevent something like that from happening again. Naturally, our research led us to your organization, since you're at the cutting edge of pheromone technology."

It's plain as day to me that he's appealing to Vince's ego, but I can tell from the look on the other alpha's face he's buying it wholesale. Fucking idiot.

"You're right about that," Vince says with a chuckle, some of his formal veneer falling to the wayside. "And I can see where you're coming from, but unfortunately, our company specializes inenhancingpheromones. Not counteracting them."

I can see where Dante is going with this. It's a smart play. We're clearly not here to buy any of PheroMaster's usual alpha supremacy bullshit, so we need a cover story that makes sense.

Dante opens his mouth to respond, but Asher beats him to it. Our omega steps forward, those mesmerizing eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Well, surely a company asadvancedas yours must have the capability to develop something like that, right? I mean, you have an entire army of brilliant scientists at your disposal, don't you?"

I have to bite back a grin. Asher's laying it on even thicker than Dante, his voice dripping with admiration. It's all bullshit, of course. I can smell his disgust and anger, barely masked by his blockers. But Vince is too caught up in his own ego to notice.

"Of course we do," Vince says quickly, clearly flustered by Asher's attention. "We have some of the brightest minds in the field working for us. Our research and development facility is state-of-the-art."

"Oh?" Asher leans in, looking the picture of interest. "Tell me more about that. It must be fascinating, all the work that goes on there."

As Vince launches into what's sure to be a long-winded explanation of his company's brilliance, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Echo—or Alex, or whatever the hell his name really is—is slipping away from the group, moving with a casualness that would fool most people. But I'm not most people.

A quick glance at Asher confirms he's noticed, too. And I don't need to be able to read his mind to know he's silently pleading with me to follow Echo.

I don't want to leave him. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to stay close, to protect. But I trust my pack. They'll keep him safe.

Besides, if Echo gets caught, we're all fucked. And this place is too sketchy to let him run off on his own, even if he's used to it. I took responsibility for him and everyone else when we went on this mission, so he'll just have to deal.

With a barely perceptible nod to Asher, I slip away from the group. It doesn't take long to find Echo. He's in a hallway off to the side, peering intently at a keypad next to a nondescript door.

"What are you doing?" I ask keeping my voice low.

Echo jumps, whirling to face me with wide eyes. For a moment, genuine fear flashes across his face before he schools his expression back to careful neutrality.

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