Page 14 of Discover Me
Her name escapes me, but her reputation precedes her. When she shows up, it means someone's getting their creative control stripped away in favor of profit margins.
I never thought in a thousand years that the one thing I loved in life would turn into some kind of money making bullshit. Music was supposed to be art. Expression. Connection. Not a product to be analyzed and optimized and packaged for maximum return on investment.
The Alpha shakes hands with the CEO, then the managers, then Tom. She doesn't offer to shake hands with us. We're the talent, not the decision makers. We don't rate that highly on that level of professional courtesy.
"I've been doing some research," she says, pulling out a tablet and swiping through screens of data. "As management has probably told you, your fans have been clamoring for something a bit softer. Your demographic has aged up slightly. Many of them are now in committed relationships or looking for mates. They want music that reflects where they are in their lives."
"So we're supposed to change our entire sound because our fans grew up?" I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
She doesn't even look at me. "That, and we've already got a full album of lyrics that just needs some notes. The heavy lifting is done. You just need to put music to the words."
I frown as one of the managers—not Tom, thank god, because I might actually punch him—pulls out a small file and slides it across the table toward us. Rex picks it up and flips through it, his expression darkening with each page. Then he passes it to me.
Twelve songs. All the titles are sickeningly romantic. "Pack of My Heart." "Mate Bound." "Forever Yours." "In Your Arms." Each one more cliché than the last. The lyrics are actually good, which pisses me off even more. Whoever wrote these knows how to craft a hook, how to build emotional resonance, how to make words sing off the page.
"Why are you guys writing our lyrics?" Liam takes the file from me, his eyes scanning the pages. "Jordan does that. He's always done that."
All eyes turn to Jordan. His scent spikes with anxiety, an acidic edge to his robust scent filling the conference room. His cheeks flush and he looks down at his hands clasped on the table.
A growl rumbles in my chest before I can stop it. "Did you fucking sell out?"
Jordan clears his throat, still not meeting anyone's eyes. "I've had a notebook full of songs for years. Personal stuff, things I wrote for myself. Tom asked to see what I was working on a few months ago, and I showed him. But I didn't think..." He trails off, finally looking up. "I didn't think he'd take them to the label. I didn't think they'd become an album without my consent."
"Bullshit." I lean forward, my hands flat on the table. "You knew exactly what he was asking. You probably curated the ones that fit exactly what he needed. You've been writing with us long enough to know how this industry works. Don't play naive now."
"Kellan—" Jordan starts, but I cut him off.
"No. You sold us out. You gave them ammunition to change everything about who we are as a band, and you didn't even give us a heads up. Didn't even ask if we'd be okay with it."
Liam sets the file down carefully, and I can see the betrayal written across his face. "Seriously? What happened to pack first? You and I, we're supposed to be a unit. You don't make decisions that affect both of us without talking to me first."
Jordan's face crumples slightly. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Tom said he just wanted to see my personal work, get a sense of where my head was creatively. I trusted him."
"First mistake," Rex mutters.
"I'm not doing love songs." I cross my arms, leaning back in my chair as the leather creaks under my weight. "Find another drummer. This isn't what I signed up for."
A predatory smile splits across Tom’s face as he stares at me. "Then you'll be out on your ass with a repayment of nearly half a million dollars for breaking your contract early. Maybe more for breaking up the band. There are clauses, Kellan. You might want to review them."
Shit. That’s money I don't have because Tom controls my finances, manages my accounts, and decides how much of my earnings I actually see. I've been living off what he calls a reasonable salary, but the bulk of my income goes into investments and savings and other things Tom assures me are for my future. Breaking my contract would mean owing money I can't access to pay back money I technically earned.
I fist my hands under the table, nails digging into my palms. The pain helps ground me, keeps me from saying something I'll regret.
The CEO lets out a heavy sigh, his expression somewhere between sympathetic and calculating. "Additionally, we'll be doing things to soften up and romanticize your personas. Hannah has been doing a lot of good statistical analysis before bringing it to us. Feel free to post more on your socials about your pack life, romantic dinner dates, date nights with your mates. Let the fans see the softer side of Lunar Ransom. All posts will move through Tom before they are approved to ensure that this album release goes off without a hitch."
His gaze shifts to me, and I know what's coming before he says it.
"We have a few ideas for you, Kellan, which we'll walk you through to curate your image. Bad boy falls in love and all that. It's a proven narrative arc that audiences respond well to. We'll work with Tom to find you some suitable candidates for a relationship, maybe stage a few meetings, see if anything sticks."
They want to set me up with someone? That shit only happens in crappy Hallmark movies and sitcoms. I went from some curated persona to now becoming a publicity stunt so they can cash in on the romance angle.Fuck. This. Bullshit.
I hold my tongue through the rest of the meeting, managing to keep the anger off my face until we’re dismissed and filing out into the hallway. The moment the door closes behind the fourof us, I turn on Jordan. "Can you tell me what just happened? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you handed them everything they needed to completely remake this band."
Jordan runs a hand through his hair. "It was just business. There were talks about our brand getting tired, about needing to evolve or risk becoming obsolete. I did what I had to in order to keep us relevant."
"But we've never done love songs. Ever." Rex's voice is tight with frustration, the Alpha leaning against the wall. "That's not really our thing. Our brand is about freedom and feeling the air in our wings and choosing our own paths. We sing about independence and not conforming and living life on your own terms. How does any of that translate to love songs about mate bonds?"
"It doesn't," I say flatly. "That's the point. They want to change who we are fundamentally."
