Page 54 of Claimed By the Band

We'll see Sending you the jet details now. Can't wait to see you again, Alex!

The name hits me like a punch to the gut.

Right.

Alex.

The persona I created. The lie I'm living.

But it's too late to back out now. And if I'm honest with myself, I don't want to.

Not when a certain omega with violet eyes is waiting for me.

I grab my go-bag from under the bed—old habits die hard—and add a few extra changes of clothes just in case.

My suppressants and blockers go in their usual hidden pocket, along with my laptop and various burner phones. I hesitate before grabbing my lock picks and other tools. Probably won't need them, but better safe than sorry.

As I double-check my supplies, my phone buzzes with the flight details. The pilot's name, the tail number, even security codes to get through the private terminal. They really aren't messing around.

One more text from Asher pops up.

Thank you for trusting us enough to come. It means a lot.

Something warm and dangerous blooms in my chest. Trust. When was the last time I truly trusted anyone? I'm not sure that's even something I'm capable of anymore.

This is something else. It has to be.

I steponto the private jet, still not quite believing I'm doing this. The interior is all cream leather and polished wood, more like a luxury living room than any plane I've ever been on.

"Welcome aboard, sir," the flight attendant says with a warm smile. "Can I get you anything? Champagne perhaps?"

"Thank you. Just a ginger ale, please," I reply, settling into one of the plush seats. "And you can just call me Alex."

She nods, unfazed. "Of course, Mr. Alex. Make yourself comfortable. We'll be taking off shortly."

As I buckle in, I can't help but marvel at how different this is from commercial flights. No security lines, no cramped seats, no suspicious looks when my admittedly fake ID gets scrutinized too closely. Just smooth efficiency and comfort.

One of the many perks of being rich and famous, I guess.

The attendant returns with my ginger ale and a selection of snacks. My stomach churns at the sight of food. A lovely side effect of getting back on suppressants after being off them for nearly a week. I accept some crackers to be polite, hoping they'll help settle the nausea.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you with something more substantial?" she asks, genuine concern in her voice. "The chef prepared quite a spread."

I shake my head, forcing a smile. "Maybe later. Thank you."

As we take off, I pull out my laptop, intending to review Maria's findings again. But the gentle hum of the engines and the comfortable seat are making my eyelids heavy. I haven't been sleeping well since getting back on the suppressants—another fun side effect—and the warmth of the cabin is oddly soothing.

Before I know it, I'm drifting off, my last conscious thought being that I really shouldn't let my guard down like this...

I wake with a start as we touch down, momentarily disoriented. The flight attendant is already gathering my barely-touched snacks, a knowing smile on her face.

"We've arrived in Silvercrest," she announces. "I hope you enjoyed your rest."

I mumble my thanks, gathering my belongings and trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. I'm expecting a car to be waiting, maybe for one of their security team to escort me to wherever the band is staying.

What I'm not expecting is to step off the jet and see Asher, Damon, and Dante standing on the tarmac, holding an actual honest-to-god sign that reads "ALEX" in glittery letters.

My heart does a stupid little flip in my chest.

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