Page 116 of Claimed By the Band

I study his face carefully, looking for any sign of deception. But all I see is fear—fear of exposure, fear of consequences, fear of losing everything he's built.

"Prove it," I say finally. "Give us access to the lab and its records. All of them."

"Fine, fine," Vince says, waving his hand dismissively. "Whatever you want. Just..." He glances at the shredded photos on his desk, then back at us with pleading eyes. "You'll delete everything once you have what you need, right?"

"When we have what we need," Silas says pointedly, emphasizing the 'when' in a way that makes Vince squirm.

I watch him carefully as he buzzes his secretary, but his relief seems genuine. Either he's telling the truth about not being involved with Trakiss’s activities, or he's a better actor than I gave him credit for. Given his previous displays of... everything, I'm leaning toward the former.

The secretary who appears looks exactly like what you'd expect from a corporate alpha's assistant—perfectly coiffed hair,designer suit, and an expression that suggests she's the one actually running this place. She barely blinks at Vince's request to escort us to the lab, just gestures for us to follow her efficient stride down the hallway.

"I've actually never been down here," Vince comments as we enter the lab, looking around with obvious disinterest. "Too many... sciencey things."

"Shocking," Asher mutters under his breath, making me bite back a smile.

I head straight for the main computer terminal, my fingers already itching to dive in. This is what I do best—finding the digital breadcrumbs people think they've hidden. The familiar rhythm of typing helps calm my racing heart as I work through Trakiss’s security measures.

"Did you find what you're looking for?" Knox asks, hovering protectively nearby.

"Yes," I say, my eyes scanning the data scrolling across the screen. "Someone tried to delete these records, but they didn't know about the automatic backup system. That must be why Trakiss ran—he realized he'd failed to cover his tracks completely."

"Lazy douchebag," Vince grumbles from where he's poking at some equipment across the room. "Always leaving messes for other people to clean up."

"Don't touch that," I snap without looking up from my screen. The last thing we need is this idiot accidentally triggering something dangerous.

I quickly send the relevant files to my secure server and start printing hard copies for good measure. The steady whir of the printer feels like victory, each page another nail in Trakiss’s coffin.

"Is that what we need?" Asher asks proudly, like I've just performed some kind of magic trick instead of basic data recovery.

"I think so," I say, gathering the printouts carefully. "But I need to get these to my contact first, see if the formulas match the samples from the attack. If they do, we'll have enough evidence for the police." Vince wanders back over from poking at a bunch of expensive equipment, so I add, "I think we've got everything."

"Great!" Vince says with obvious relief. "And you'll tell them I had nothing to do with any of this illegal stuff, right? I mean, I'm a victim here too!"

Silas gives him a long look that makes him shrink back slightly. "We'll see," he says finally. "Keep your phone handy. We might need something else from you."

"But—" Vince starts to protest, but one growl from Knox has him snapping his mouth shut.

As we head toward the exit, I can't shake the feeling that this was too easy. Nothing in my life has ever been this simple, especially not when it comes to taking down powerful people. But the evidence is real—I can see that much in the formulas and testing logs. Whatever game Trakiss is playing, he slipped up here.

I feel Asher's hand slip into mine as we walk, and the simple touch soothes my frayed nerves and unanswered questions. The rest of the pack moves with us as we make our way through the building.

"You okay?" Asher murmurs as we reach the lobby.

I squeeze his hand, letting myself draw strength from his unwavering support. "Yeah," I say softly. "Just... processing."

The truth is, I'm better than okay. For the first time since I escaped the compound, I feel like I'm actually making progress toward stopping these people. Not just running and hiding, but fighting back.

Now, I just have to figure out how the hell Trakiss is connected to my former cult.

41

JORDAN

Ilean back against Asher's chest as his fingers dance across the piano keys, working out a new melody now that we're at the band's home base, waiting for the results of the lab testing that will determine our next move. My nostrils are full of his sweet scent as his music fills the space. Knox sits nearby with his bass, occasionally adding notes that make Asher's face light up with inspiration.

I'm sitting on Asher's lap, working on my phone while he and Knox write their next masterpiece. It's surprisingly easy to focus, wrapped in comforting scents and the company of my new pack.

At least, itusuallyis.

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