Chapter 3 – SILAS
3
SILAS
T he drive to this godforsaken diner feels endless. I white-knuckle the steering wheel, jaw clenched so tight I can hear my teeth grinding. Asher sprawls in the passenger seat, his long legs stretched out, tapping away at his phone. In the rearview mirror, I catch glimpses of Dante in the backseat, his dark eyes distant, lost in thought. The others stayed home, since Dante said his old friend can be a bit flighty.
Two fucking hours. That's how far this paranoid asshole insisted we drive to meet him. Some greasy spoon in the middle of nowhere, like we're in a bad spy movie. I don't like it. Don't like any of this, if I'm being honest.
But Asher was adamant. And what Asher wants, Asher gets. It's been that way since the day I met him, since that first electric moment when our eyes locked across a crowded room and something inside me just... clicked. Like finding a piece of myself I didn't even know was missing.
Each of us has our own version of the story to tell. The day we realized Asher wasn't just the most captivating omega we'd ever laid eyes on—he was our scent match.
I shake off the memory. Now's not the time for sentimentality. We've got bigger problems.
"You sure about this guy, Dante?" I ask, glancing in the mirror again. "Seems a little... off."
Dante shrugs, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Adam's always been a bit eccentric. But he's good people. And he knows his shit when it comes to tech."
"We need more than a computer geek," I mutter.
"Hey." Asher's voice is sharp, drawing my attention. Those violet eyes I love so much are narrowed, a challenge in their depths. "We agreed to this. If there's even a chance this guy can help us figure out who's behind the attacks, it's worth it."
I bite back a sigh. He's right, of course. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
"I know, Ash," I say softly. "I just... I worry."
His expression softens, just a fraction. He reaches out, laying a hand on my thigh. Even through the denim of my jeans, his touch sends a jolt through me. "I know you do. But I'm fine. We're fine. And we're going to find these bastards and make them pay."
The steel in his voice would make most people flinch, especially coming from an omega. It just makes me fall in love with him all over again.
We lapse into silence as I pull into the parking lot of the diner. It's exactly as depressing as I imagined. Faded paint, flickering neon sign, windows grimy enough that I can barely make out the silhouettes of the few patrons inside.
"Charming," Asher drawls as we climb out of the car.
Dante chuckles. "Adam's idea of discretion isn't exactly subtle."
I scan the lot, cataloging potential threats out of habit. Old pickup truck, probably belongs to the staff. Beat-up sedan that's seen better days. And... there. A nondescript black car, too clean to belong here. That'll be our guy.
We file into the diner, the bell over the door jingling cheerfully. The handful of customers barely spare us a glance. Good. The last thing we need is to be recognized.
A man sits alone in a corner booth, hunched over a steaming mug of coffee. He's... unremarkable. Average height, average build, brown hair cut short and neat. The kind of face you'd forget the moment you looked away. But there's something in the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes dart around the room, that screams wariness.
Dante leads us over, sliding into the booth across from the man. "Adam. Long time no see."
Adam looks up, a fleeting smile crossing his face. "Dante. Good to see you." His gaze flicks to Asher and me, wariness creeping back into his expression. "These your packmates?"
He knows, of course. Everyone knows we're pack. It's all the fucking tabloids can talk about.
Asher slides in next to Dante, flashing that megawatt smile that's graced a dozen of those magazine covers. "Asher Wilde," he says, extending a hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
Adam hesitates for a fraction of a second before shaking. "Likewise," he murmurs.
I take my place next to Asher, not bothering to introduce myself. Let him wonder if he doesn't already know me by name.
A waitress ambles over, notepad in hand. "What can I getcha, boys?"
Adam speaks up before any of us can. "I'll have the big breakfast, extra bacon. Side of hash browns, crispy. And keep the coffee coming."
I raise an eyebrow. It's nearly midnight.
The waitress doesn't bat an eye, just scribbles it down. "And for you fellas?"
We order some coffee, but we're all too keyed up to eat. Even Dante. That's how you know this shit's serious.
As soon as she's out of earshot, Adam leans forward, voice low. "So. Dante says you've got a problem."
Asher nods, all business now. "Someone's targeting omegas. High-profile ones. There was an attack at our last concert—gas, designed to send alphas into a rut. It was..." He trails off, a shadow crossing his face. "Pretty fucking rough."
"Yeah, I saw the news," Adam says in a tone of what seems like genuine sympathy. "Sorry about what happened."
I reach for Asher's hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. He shoots me a grateful look before continuing.
"We need to find out who's behind this. The police are completely useless so far, and we can't just sit around waiting for the next attack."
Adam's expression doesn't change. "That's a tall order," he says carefully. "You're talking about going up against some seriously dangerous people."
"We can handle ourselves," I growl, bristling at the implication.
Adam's gaze slides to me, assessing. "I'm sure you can. But this isn't about muscle. These guys, whoever they are, they're organized. Connected. You start poking around, you're liable to bring a whole world of hurt down on yourselves."
Asher leans forward, eyes blazing. "So what, we just do nothing? Let them keep attacking omegas? Fuck that."
A ghost of a smile flits across Adam's face. "Didn't say that. Just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."
The waitress returns, arms laden with plates. She sets them down in front of Adam, who digs in with gusto. I watch, mildly concerned, as he shovels eggs into his mouth like he's starving.
"So," Dante says, breaking the awkward silence. "Can you help us?"
Adam takes a long swig of coffee, considering. "Me? No. But I might know someone who can."
Asher and I exchange a confused look before he asks, "Who?"
"Goes by Echo," Adam says, mopping up egg yolk with a piece of toast. "Doesn't use his real name. Doesn't meet clients face to face. But if anyone can track down your omega-haters, it's him."
I frown. This is sounding sketchier by the minute. "How do we know we can trust this Echo?"
Adam shrugs. "You don't. But he's the best in the business. If he agrees to take your case, consider it done."
" If ?" Asher echoes, brow furrowing.
"Echo's... selective," Adam explains. "Doesn't take every job that comes his way. But given the nature of your problem, I'd say there's a good chance he'll be interested."
I don't like the sound of that. Some faceless hacker deciding whether or not our cause is worthy? But Asher's practically vibrating with excitement next to me.
"How do we get in touch with him?" he asks eagerly.
Adam shakes his head. "You don't. I'll reach out, see if he's interested. If he is, he'll contact you."
Asher frowns, clearly not used to being told no. But then that spark of mischief I know so well lights up his eyes. He leans forward, turning on the full force of his charm.
"Look," he purrs, "money's no object here. We'll pay whatever Echo wants. Double it, even, once the job's done."
I have to admire his persistence, even as I inwardly cringe at the thought of him getting his hopes up over some shadowy hacker.
To my surprise, Adam chuckles. "That's not how it works with Echo. He sets his own terms. And like I said, he doesn't just take every job."
Asher opens his mouth to argue, but I lay a hand on his arm. "I think we've made our case, Ash."
He subsides, but I can feel his frustration. It's rare for him to not just be able to convince someone with the puppy dog eyes. Or seduction. Whichever happens to be more effective in the moment.
Both work pretty damn well on me.
Adam pushes his empty plate away, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "I'll be in touch if Echo's interested," he says, sliding out of the booth. "Thanks for the meal. Later, Dante."
And just like that, he's gone, leaving us with the check and a whole lot of questions.
Dante sighs, fishing out his wallet. "Well, that could have gone worse."
Asher snorts. "Could have gone better, too. What kind of bullshit is this? We're supposed to just sit around and wait for some mysterious hacker to decide if he wants to help us?"
I squeeze his hand. "We knew it was a long shot, babe. At least we tried."
He deflates a little, leaning into my side. "I know. I just... I hate feeling helpless."
"I know," I murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. I hate myself for being relieved. This whole thing feels sketchy as hell and I'm more protective now than ever. "We'll figure something out."
As we make our way back to the car, I can't help but hope that this Echo character never calls. We need to lie low, focus on healing and getting back on our feet. Not poking the bear.
But one look at the determination etched on Asher's face, and I know that's not going to happen. He's not going to rest until we find the people responsible for the attack. And where Asher goes, I follow.
God help us all.
The drive back is quieter, the initial excitement of the meeting giving way to a tense silence. Asher's curled up in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone with a frown. Probably checking the news, looking for any updates on the investigation. Not that there's likely to be any.
Dante's dozed off in the backseat, his soft snores a counterpoint to the hum of the engine. Lucky bastard.
My mind races, replaying the meeting over and over. There was something off about Adam, beyond the obvious paranoia.
But Dante vouched for him, and I trust Dante. As much as I'm capable of trusting another human being who isn't Asher.
I glance over at Asher, my heart clenching at the sight of the fading bruises on his face. He catches me looking and quirks an eyebrow.
"Eyes on the road, handsome," he teases, but there's a tension in his voice that wasn't there before.
I reach over, lacing my fingers through his. "Talk to me. I know you're worrying."
He's quiet for a long moment, thumb tracing absent patterns on the back of my hand. When he speaks, his voice is quiet.
"What if this Echo guy doesn't help us?"
The vulnerability in his tone makes my chest ache. It's not often Asher lets his guard down like this, even with me.
"Then we figure something else out," I say firmly. "We're not giving up. I promise you that."
He nods, but I can see the doubt lingering in his eyes. "I just... I can't shake this feeling. Like we're running out of time."
I frown, not sure what to make of that.
Actually, I’m not sure what to make of him being like this in the first place.