Page 56 of Claimed By the Band

I settle into another chair, watching the interplay between them. Echo's clearly got information he's not thrilled about sharing, based on how he keeps fidgeting with the strap of his bag. And Asher... well, Asher's watching Echo like he's trying to memorize every detail of his face.

It should probably bother me more than it does. Usually when Asher shows interest in someone outside the pack, I'm supportive but detached. It's just part of who he is, this need to connect with other omegas. To take care of them. And now, apparently, a beta. But for some reason, I find myself just as intrigued by our mysterious hacker.

Maybe it's because he's a beta, which is definitely new territory for all of us. Or maybe it's the way he carries himself, like he's constantly fighting some internal battle we can't see. There's just something about him that makes me want to know more.

But I temper that curiosity, reminding myself why we're really here. We've got serious matters to discuss: potential threats to our omega, a shadowy organization targeting public figures, evidence that needs to be analyzed. Whatever's developing between Asher and Echo has to take a backseat to keeping everyone safe.

Damon returns with drinks for everyone, setting a glass of water in front of Echo with surprising gentleness. Our drummer might look intimidating, but he's always had a soft spot for strays. And Echo, for all his carefully maintained barriers, definitely gives off that vibe.

"Thanks," Echo murmurs, and for just a moment, his mask slips. There's something vulnerable in his expression, like he's not used to people doing simple kindnesses for him. But he also looks like he's not sure what to make of it. Like Damon is going to want something in return for a literal bottle of water.

It makes my chest ache in a way I wasn't expecting.

I catch Asher's eye across the room, and I can tell he noticed it too. His eyes are soft with concern, and I know he's fightingthe urge to mother-hen our guest into submission. But he holds back, letting Echo set the pace.

I watch Echo pull out his laptop, movements precise and careful as he sets it up on the coffee table. There's something almost mechanical about the way he operates, like every gesture has been rehearsed. But why?

Then again, maybe I'm just being paranoid.

"So," Echo begins, his voice soft but steady, "I've got good news and bad news."

"Give us the bad news first," Asher says, leaning forward with an intensity that would probably scare most people. Echo doesn't even flinch.

"The chemical analysis isn't conclusive enough to take to the police," Echo explains, turning his laptop so we can see the complex molecular diagrams on screen. "The compound is similar to PheroMaster's other products, but not identical enough to prove anything."

I catch the slight slump in Asher's shoulders, but before any of us can react, Echo continues. "The good news is that my contact who analyzed the samples found something interesting. The synthetic pheromones used are highly concentrated, like nothing available on the commercial market. Like nothing she's even seen before. "

"So whoever made this had access to some serious equipment," I muse, pieces starting to click into place.

Echo nods, something flickering in those dark eyes. "Exactly. This isn't something an amateur could whip up in his basement.The technology required to synthesize pheromones at this concentration level is extremely advanced. And expensive."

"So it would require money," Asher murmurs, his scent sharpening with excitement. "Lots of it."

"And facilities," Echo agrees. "Lab space, specialized equipment, trained personnel."

"Sounds like our number one suspect, alright," I say, exchanging glances with Damon. We're all thinking the same thing. PheroMaster has everything needed to produce something like this, even if we still can't prove it directly.

Damon shifts in his chair, that familiar thoughtful look crossing his face. "Our best bet might be that 'soiree' Vince invited us to," he rumbles. "Get inside, talk to some of their scientists directly."

"It would give us access to their inner circle," Echo admits, though there's something hesitant in his voice. "But it's risky. Security will be tight, and if they catch anyone snooping around..."

"Then we don't snoop," Asher declares, that mischievous smirk on his lips that usually means he's about to suggest something crazy. "We attend as invited guests. Make nice with Vince, schmooze with his scientists. Get them drunk and talking. And I can work my omega charms."

I can't help but grin. It's not a bad plan, actually. "The old honey trap approach?"

Asher winks at me. "I didn't spend years perfecting my wiles for nothing."

I laugh, because I know damn well Asher was born with the ability to wrap anyone he wanted around his finger, me included. No practice necessary.

"It's our best shot," Echo admits, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "And maybe we can convince Vince to give us a tour of his manufacturing facilities. Ideally, I'd like to get my hands on a client list too."

Asher perks up instantly. I know that look, too.

"So that means you'll be staying with us, right?" he asks, trying and failing to sound casual.

Echo blinks, confusion evident on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Asher says, drawing out the word like he's explaining something obvious, "for the sake of keeping up the front of you being in our pack, you should actually be with the pack for a while. If they're watching us, it'll look suspicious if we fly you in right before the party."

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