Page 114 of Claimed By the Band

"Ready?" he asks after a moment, though I can tell part of him still wants to bundle me up and keep me far away from anything connected to my past.

I nod, straightening my shoulders. "Ready."

The others are waiting in the living room when we come downstairs. Knox and Silas are discussing strategy in low voices while Dante paces restlessly. Damon stands by the window, his massive frame tense with protective energy.

They all look up when we enter, and the wave of combined alpha concern nearly overwhelms me. But underneath it is something else—pride, determination, love. These aren't just alphas wanting to protect their omega. This is my pack, ready to fight beside me.

"Looking good, Echo," Dante says with a wink, using the name deliberately. Letting me know he understands why I need this.

"Thanks," I say, managing a small smile. "Though I think the leather pants were probably overkill for a business meeting."

"No such thing," Asher declares, making everyone laugh.

The tension breaks, and suddenly it's just us again. My pack. My new family.

The drive to PheroMaster headquarters feels different this time. Instead of the nervous energy that filled the car before the party, there's a steady sense of purpose. I sit between Asher and Dante in the back seat, their solid warmth grounding me.

Silas catches my eye in the rearview mirror. "Remember the plan," he says quietly. "We're just here to talk."

"For now," Knox adds, a dangerous edge to his voice that makes me shiver.

I reach for Asher's hand, threading our fingers together. His thumb strokes my palm soothingly, and I'm struck by how natural it feels now. How right.

The lobby of PheroMaster's headquarters is exactly as I remember it—all gleaming chrome and harsh fluorescent lighting. The receptionist eyes us warily but doesn't comment on our return visit as she directs us to the executive elevator.

"Nice place," Dante mutters as we ascend. "Very 'evil corporation chic.'"

I can't help but snort at his description. He's not wrong. Everything about PheroMaster screams, “We're definitely not doing anything illegal here, why do you ask?"

Vince's office is somehow even more ostentatious than the lobby. The walls are covered in what look like original Renaissance paintings, except they're all… gym bros. Literally. One is a guy doing barbell reps in a sprawling garden and another is on a leg machine.

Is this asshole for real?

And the most ridiculous part of it all is an honest-to-god crystal chandelier the size of a car hanging over his massive desk.

"Welcome back!" Vince booms, rising from his leather throne with a slick smile. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea? Perhaps some caviar?" he adds in what I'm pretty sure is supposed to be a French accent.

It's not.

"We're fine," Silas says smoothly, taking point once again. "This won't take long."

Vince's smile falters slightly. "Since we're getting right to business..." He shuffles some papers on his desk, clearly trying to project authority. "We should discuss the incident at my party."

"Oh, that," Asher says in feigned concern. "I hope you were able to air everything out properly? It's such a shame the party had to come to such a potent premature end."

I have to cough just to cover my laugh.

Dante's not as successful.

Vince, on the other hand, is turning beet red and looks like the top of his head is going to pop off any second like a steam whistle.

"Yeah, right. My security cameras caught you tossing cabernet downmyair vents," Vince bellows, pointing in accusation at Asher.

Asher just smiles innocently. "Did they? You know, I've always been so clumsy when I have a few. But you know what they say about omegas being lightweights."

"Bullshit!" Vince snarls, slamming his fists on his desk like the overgrown manbaby he is. It's not exactly an impressive display, but the alphas step between him and us anyway. "You know what you did! You ruined my party and you're not leaving here until you admit it!"

I exchange looks with Silas, who raises an eyebrow. "We could discuss that," he says mildly. "Or we could talk about these."

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