Page 5 of Claimed By the Band

Silas's lip curls in disgust. "They suggested we stop touring. For Asher's safety."

I can't help but laugh at that, the sound harsh and bitter. "Yeah, good luck with that conversation. You know how Ash is gonna react to that bullshit."

"Oh, I know," Silas says dryly. "Believe me, I know."

The door to Knox's room swings open, and our omega steps out as if on cue.

He's sporting a few bandages, a nasty bruise blooming along his jaw that has me seeing red, but otherwise looks okay. My chest aches at the sight of him, relief and lingering fear warring for dominance within me.

"Any updates?" Asher asks, his violet eyes scanning our faces.

I can't help myself. I reach out, pulling him into a gentle hug. At six-two, he's only a couple inches shorter than me, and he's all lean muscle. Definitely not your typical omega, aside from the long golden mane he spends a small fortune in products on every month. But even if he's not a wispy omega, I still came too fucking close to losing him tonight. "You should be resting," I murmur into his hair, breathing in his honey-sweet scent.

Asher huffs, pulling back to fix me with an exasperated look. "I'm fine, Dante. Stop fussing."

I exchange a glance with Silas, knowing we're both thinking the same thing. Asher's anything but fine, but he'll be damned if he shows any weakness. In some regards, he's as bad as any alpha.

Maybe worse.

Asher catches the look, his eyes narrowing. "Stop that," he snaps. "I hate when you do that silent communication thing. You'd think you were twins."

Silas holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry, Ash. We're just worried."

"Yeah, well, worry about Knox," Asher retorts, gesturing toward the room he just left. "He's the one who just had surgery for a broken fucking skull."

I wince at the reminder. "How's he doing?"

Asher's face softens slightly. "Better. Doc says he'll make a full recovery, but it'll take time. They're keeping him out for now to give his body a chance to heal."

Silas nods, some of the tension leaving his broad shoulders. "That's good. Listen, Asher, there's something we need to talk about?—"

"The cops say there've been other attacks," Asher cuts him off. At our surprised looks, he rolls his eyes. "These walls aren't exactly soundproof, you know."

Silas nods grimly. "Yeah, there were other attacks. They think it's an organized group, targeting omega rights activists."

Asher's jaw clenches, a fire lighting in those mesmerizing eyes. "And? What are they doing about it?"

The silence that follows is answer enough.

"Fuck that," Asher spits, starting to pace. The movement is graceful despite his injuries, reminding me of a caged tiger. Beautiful and deadly. "If the police won't do anything, we fucking will."

"Ash," Silas starts, his tone placating. "We need to be smart about this. The cops suggested we stop touring, at least until?—"

"No." Asher's voice is steel, brooking no argument. "Absolutely not. We are not canceling the tour."

I can't help but smirk at Silas. Called it.

Asher whirls on me, jabbing a finger into my chest. "Don't you start."

I hold up my hands in surrender, but I can't quite wipe the grin off my face. He's so damn hot when he's all fired up and protective. It's one of the many things I love about our unconventional omega.

But now is definitely not the time.

"I'm serious," Asher continues. "I'm not calming down, I'm not backing off, and I'm sure as hell not letting these bastards win by hiding away like a good little omega."

"No one's saying that," Silas tries, but Asher's on a roll now.

"I want revenge," he snarls, eyes flashing. "I want to know who the fuck is responsible for this, and if the police won't do anything about it, I fucking will."

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