Page 67 of Claimed By the Band

"Coming from a group like that, I take it as a compliment," Asher assures him, a ghost of a smile on his lips that doesn't touch the worry in his eyes.

As Echo talks, it hits me that this is a full-blown cult. And not the kind that form randomly around the more popular idols and rock bands. We've got a few of those ourselves. This shit is serious, and it's clear it's left a mark on the man in front of us. A deep, painful one.

The temperature in the bus seems to drop several degrees. I exchange looks with my packmates, seeing my own horror reflected in their faces. Even Knox, who's been skeptical of Echo from the start, looks ready to commit murder on his behalf.

And suddenly, everything starts clicking into place. Echo's terror at seeing his brother. The way he flinches from touch. His obsession with privacy and control.

The pieces are starting to form a picture I don't like at all.

"Something tells me they don't treat the betas too great in a place like that, either," Damon mutters.

Echo shrugs, but I catch the way he rubs at something on his wrist under his sleeve. The gesture seems unconscious, like picking at an old scar. My alpha instincts roar at the implications, but I force them down. The last thing he needs right now is an alpha's rage, no matter how justified.

"How did you get away?" Asher asks softly, his sweet scent intensifying but still soft, as if he's trying to wrap it around Echo to comfort him. It's how he behaves with other omegas, I realize. Taking on a role that's both protective and nurturing.

Echo's quiet for a long moment, and I think he might not answer. But then he speaks, his voice a little steadier. "I ran. When I was sixteen." His fingers keep working at that spot on his wrist. "I'd been saving money, hiding it where they couldn't find it. I carried it with me at all times in my shoe, and when the opportunity presented itself, I bolted. Bought a bus ticket going anywhere else. Went as far as it would take me."

My chest tightens at the thought of a sixteen-year-old kid, alone and scared, riding a bus to nowhere just to escape whatever hell he'd been living in.

"I had to start over," Echo continues, his eyes staring off at nothing again. "Went into hiding. Learned how to break into systems, forge documents. Created a whole new identity for myself."

"Is that why you do what you do now?" Dante asks gently.

Echo looks startled by the question, like he hadn't expected anyone to make that connection. "Yes," he admits after a moment, and the guilt in his voice makes my alpha instincts howl. "I couldn't... I couldn't face my family. But I felt like I needed to do something. To stop people like them."

I catch Asher's eye across the bus, and I know we're thinking the same thing. This beta, this survivor, somehow feels responsible for the sins of the alphas who clearly abused him. He's dedicated his life to fighting against everything they stand for, and yet he still carries that weight.

I want to tell him he has nothing to feel guilty about. Want to gather him up and protect him from everything that's ever hurt him. Want to make him see that he's not responsible for fixing the broken system that failed him.

But the words stick in my throat. We still don't really know each other, even if something in my chest feels like we do. Even if my alpha instincts are screaming at me to comfort and reassure and protect. Any comfort I offer might ring hollow, might push him further away when he's finally starting to let us in.

So instead, I watch as Asher holds his hand and Dante offers quiet support and Damon exudes steady protection from his post by the door. We might not be able to fix what's broken, but we can be here now. We can show him he doesn't have to face whatever's coming alone.

I watch the others, trying to read where their heads are at with all this. I'm pretty sure we're all on the same page, that Echo needs our protection whether he wants it or not. At least, I want to believe we are.

Knox hasn't spoken a word since Echo's revelation. That's unusual for him. He's typically about as subtle as a sledgehammer, wearing every emotion on his sleeve. But tonight he's managing to be unreadable, which has me worried.

There's a chance he still sees Echo as a threat to Asher, that he'll want him gone. A chance he doesn't understand yet that Echo means more to Asher than just another pretty face that caught his eye. More to the pack, if I'm being honest, even though I don't fully understand it myself. This pull we all seem to feel toward him, this instinct to protect that goes beyond normal alpha territorial bullshit.

But Knox keeps his thoughts to himself, which might be a first.

Asher breaks the heavy silence, his voice soft but certain. "I already knew you were brave," he tells Echo. "I just didn't realize how much."

Echo looks up at him, genuine confusion written across his features. "I'm not brave," he says with a bitter laugh. "I'm fucking terrified of them." His eyes dart between all of us, that mask of careful indifference completely shattered. "And you should be too. If you knew what they've done, what they're capable of..." He swallows hard, pulling away from Asher's touch. "You wouldn't want to be near me either."

"That's not true," Asher says immediately, reaching for Echo's hand again. This time, Echo lets him take it, though I can see how much it costs him. I'm not sure if it's trust or just exhaustion. "Nothing you've told us changes anything. If anything, it just proves what I already knew. That you're someone worth knowing. Worth protecting."

I watch Echo's face as he processes this, see the war between hope and fear playing out in those expressive eyes. He wants to believe Asher so badly. Hell, I want him to believe it. But years of trauma don't disappear just because someone offers kindness.

"Listen," I say, keeping my voice gentle but firm. "Whatever's coming, whatever your brother and his cult are planning, you don't have to fight it alone anymore. Not if you don't want to."

Echo's eyes meet mine, and for a moment I see past all his carefully constructed walls. See the scared kid who ran away at sixteen, who rebuilt himself from nothing, who's probably spent all the years since then looking over his shoulder. I see someone who's so fucking tired of running, even if he doesn't realize it yet.

"I'm not… good at that," he says quietly. "Working with people. Trusting people."

"Then let us show you," Asher says, and the fierce protectiveness in his voice makes my chest tight. "One thing at a time."

I catch Damon's eye across the bus, see my own thoughts reflected in his expression. Dante's, too. Whatever this is between Echo and Asher, whatever's building between all of us, it's bigger than any of us expected. More important.

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