Page 29 of Claimed By the Band

His dark eyes meet mine for a brief moment before skittering away. "No, it's not," he agrees. "But this case... it's different. What happened at Rita Dawson's venue confirms what I've been suspecting. This isn't just about you or Wild Honey. It's bigger than that."

A chill runs down my spine at his words. I've been thinking the same thing, but hearing him say it makes it real in a way I wasn't quite prepared for.

"How much bigger?" Silas asks warily.

Echo's gaze sweeps the bar once more before he answers.

I lean forward, captivated as Echo begins to speak. There's a shift in his energy now, a quiet confidence that emerges as he delves into his area of expertise. It's fascinating to watch.

"I've been tracking people I have reason to suspect belong to this group online for a while now," he explains, his voice low but steady. "They've used different names, never sticking to one for long. Makes them harder to track."

"But it's the same people?" I ask, unable to keep the eagerness from my voice. Finally, we might be getting somewhere.

Echo nods, his dark eyes flickering with something that looks like anger. "I think so. The same core group of alphas, yes. If I'm right, they've been behind everything from DDOS attacks on omega health centers to cyber stalking and doxxing prominent omega rights activists."

My stomach churns at the thought. I've seen the aftermath of doxxing campaigns—omegas forced to move, to change jobs, to live in fear. It's a special kind of cruelty. And most of them can't just drop money on a new apartment and movers whenever they feel threatened.

"There's no shortage of assholes like that online," Echo continues, his lips twisting in disgust. "But this group is different. More organized."

I can hear the passion in his voice as he speaks. I'm more surprised than I want to admit.

Sure, I know plenty of alphas who are passionate about omega issues, considering they usually have an omega in their pack or family. Betas tend to be a little more oblivious. At least, the ones who don't belong to a pack, and I can't really imagine the man sitting across from me in that kind of setting. Not willingly. If he doesn't trust people with meeting face to face, or even his real name, it's hard to imagine him having pack connections.

Especially since alphas and keeping a low profile rarely ever belong in the same sentence.

Damon shifts beside me, his familiar cedar and cardamom scent spiking with worry. "And you think these are the dickwads who attacked Asher on stage?"

I reach for his hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Echo's eyes track the movement before returning to Damon's face.

"It would be the first time they've done anything on that scale or in person," he admits. "But I have reason to believe it's them. It matches their MO, and..." He hesitates, something dark passing over his features. "I've seen snippets of threats they've made online. One of the leaders who usually goes by the name RedWolf has discussed the idea of using pheromones against public facing omegas before."

"RedWolf? Knox echoes with a derisive snort. "What a fucking edgelord."

"Why haven't you reported this to the police?" Silas demands, his protective alpha nature showing through.

Echo gives him a look that's somehow both patient and utterly done with his shit. It's kind of impressive, actually. "I have," he says flatly. "But the group is notoriously difficult to track, like I said. The extreme nature of their communications means they talk behind closed doors, and the niche sites they use get shut down nearly as fast as I can infiltrate them. Tracking them across the Internet is a struggle." His eyes narrow slightly. "And as far as the police go—how helpful have they been with your case? Isn't that why you came to me in the first place?"

"Fair point," Silas mutters, sitting back in his seat.

I can't help but smile as I watch Echo. He's starting to relax a little, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he talks about his work. His hands come out of his pockets to gesture as he speaks, and there's a confidence in his voice that wasn't there before.

It's... kind of adorable, actually. Like watching an armadillo slowly unfurl from its defensive ball.

"So what's our next move?" I ask, trying to keep my voice professional despite the warmth blooming in my chest.

Echo turns those intelligent eyes on me, and for a moment, I swear I see something flicker in their depths. Something that makes my omega instincts perk up with interest.

But I tamp it down. He's already putting his neck on the line by meeting us like this, and it clearly makes him uncomfortable enough as it is. I don't need to add to that by being my usual flirtatious self.

Even if there's something about him that makes it especially tempting.

"Our next move," Echo says, pulling me from my thoughts, "is to set a trap. If they're escalating to physical attacks, they're going to slip up eventually. We just need to hasten their downfall."

"How?" Dante asks, voicing the question we're all thinking.

Echo reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a scrap of cardboard, sliding it across the sticky table surface. "I've been doing some digging. Went to the concert hall where you were attacked, checked if the police missed anything. Found this."

Knox snatches it up, squinting at it in the dim bar light. "It's trash," he declares, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.

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