Chapter 12 – JORDAN
12
JORDAN
T he familiar chaos of a large cafe provides exactly the background noise I need to focus on my work, settled in a corner booth as usual with my trusty laptop. It's a new city and not one of the chains I'm used to, but I needed a little change of scenery after the meeting with Wild Honey. Too many thoughts competing with each other.
I pull up the PheroMaster website, scrolling through their product lines with a growing sense of disgust.
Alpha Dominance Spray .
Omega Submission Mist.
Who actually buys this shit?
A video starts playing automatically, and I fumble for my headphones, jamming them in before the sound can attract attention. A man appears on screen, all gleaming teeth and slicked-back hair. The CEO, I assume. The fact that he has the company logo tattooed on his neck cinches it. He launches into a spiel about "harnessing the power of nature" and "unlocking your true alpha potential."
I roll my eyes so hard it's a wonder they don't fall out of my head. This guy probably gets high off his own musk.
My phone buzzes, startling me out of my disgusted fascination. Maria's name flashes across the screen.
Finally .
She's an omega who works for the state lab, and she's been willing to help me with a few cases in the past, considering she's sympathetic to the cause.
"Hey," I answer, keeping my voice low and gruff. I'm already grabbing my things, moving to the deck seating outside since it's empty and affords more privacy. "Any luck?"
"Hello to you too, Echo," Maria says, amusement coloring her tone. "I've got an update on that gas sample you asked about."
My heart rate kicks up a notch. "Really? That was fast."
"Well, I am the best," she teases. "I was able to pull the report. I'll send it over to your secure email in a few minutes."
Relief washes over me. "Maria, you're a lifesaver. Seriously. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," she says. "Though I have to admit, I'm curious. This isn't your usual kind of case. Pretty high profile."
I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. "Yeah, well. First time for everything, right?"
"Mm-hmm," Maria hums, clearly not buying it. "And it has nothing to do with a certain high-profile omega who was attacked recently?"
Shit. I should've known she'd put it together. "I can't really talk about it," I hedge.
"Of course not," she says. "Just... be careful, Echo. Whatever you're mixed up in, it sounds dangerous."
A lump forms in my throat. It's been so long since anyone's expressed genuine concern for my wellbeing. "I will," I promise. "And hey, one more thing. If I manage to get my hands on another sample, would you be able to tell if it came from the same lab?"
There's a pause on the other end of the line. "Potentially," Maria says slowly. "Depending on the integrity of the sample. Why?"
"Just covering all my bases," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "Nothing concrete yet, but I might have something for you soon."
"Alright," she says, and I can practically hear her frown. "Whatever's going on, I hope you stick it to the bastards. I happen to like Wild Honey, and I'm gonna be pissed if my concert tickets get refunded."
"I'll do my best," I say with a chuckle.
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, feeling oddly off-balance. Even if Maria only knows me as a disembodied voice and a fake name, she's still the closest thing I have to a friend.
And that's fucking pathetic, considering we'll probably never even meet.
Meeting Wild Honey at that bar the other day was a rare reminder of exactly how far my life is from that of a typical omega. Seeing Asher surrounded by pack, by alphas who would do anything to protect him…
Jealousy isn't the right word. Not by a long shot.
More like… curiosity.
I'm not the kind of person who lets myself get caught up in melancholy and what might have been, but I'm also not the kind of person who gets close enough to anyone to trigger those impulses.
Looking at his pack, I can't help but wonder… what would my life have been like if I'd been born into a normal family instead of a fucking cult?
If I'd had the chance to actually develop into a regular person rather than living my whole life on a hair trigger looking for a chance to escape?
The moment that chance came, I hit the ground running and I haven't stopped since. Even now, a thousand miles away from the prison I once called home, it feels too dangerous to stop. To look back.
Or forward.
Sometimes it feels like I'm on an island all to myself while the whole world continues on around me.
I shake off the melancholy, focusing instead on the task at hand. I've barely opened my email to analyze the report Maria sent me when my phone buzzes again. This time, it's a text from Asher.
ASHER: Hey Echo!! It's Asher. Got a sec to chat?
I snort. Of course it's him. He's the only client who's ever sent me memes. And this morning, a picture of scones and hot chocolate from the coffee shop he and the pack went to for breakfast.
What do you need?
Better aim for professional detachment. Especially after our meeting.
His response is immediate. Of course.
ASHER: Can I call you? It's easier to explain over the phone.
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. What could he possibly have to say that can't be conveyed through text? But curiosity wins out over caution.
Fine. Give me five minutes.
Once I download the report, just in case, I give it a quick glance. It's pretty much what I expected from the press conferences and police reports. A novel compound synthesizing alpha pheromones. The half life was six hours. More than enough time to cause complete and utter chaos. It's nothing available on the free market, that's for sure.
When the phone rings, I take a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"
"Echo!" Asher's voice is warm, enthusiastic. "How are you? Have you eaten yet? There's this amazing Chinese place on Main Street. You have to try their dumplings?—"
"Asher," I cut him off, fighting to keep the amusement out of my voice. "Did you call to make small talk, or...?"
"Oh! Right, sorry," he says, and I can practically hear the sheepish grin in his voice. "I got distracted. I have kind of a one-track mind when it comes to food. Anyway, I've got good news! We got the invite to the PheroMaster showroom."
I blink, surprised. "That was fast."
"I know, right?" Asher says, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "I called in some favors, and as soon as they realized who it was... well, let's just say they rolled out the red carpet."
I snort. "Of course they did."
"The appointment is Friday at 7 PM," he continues. "And get this—the CEO himself wants to give us a tour."
I think back to the video I just watched, the CEO's smarmy grin and over-gelled hair. "Can't wait," I say dryly.
There's a pause on the other end of the line. "There is... one more thing," Asher says, his voice taking on an edge of wariness.
My stomach drops. "What?"
"Well, it turns out the boutique has a pack-only policy," he explains. "Technically, only alphas are supposed to go, but they were willing to make an exception for me. But..."
"But what?" I prompt, even though I have a sinking feeling I know where this is going.
"I had to say we'd be bringing you as the new member of our pack," Asher says in a rush. "It was the only way to get you in."
For a moment, I'm too stunned to speak. A member of their pack? The very idea is laughable. Terrifying. Tempting in a way I refuse to examine too closely.
"Echo?" Asher's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "Are you still there?"
I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm here. That's... fine. We'll make it work."
"Great!" The relief in his voice is palpable. "Do you want to meet up before Friday? Maybe grab dinner and discuss strategy?"
"No," I say, probably too quickly. "I've got some things I need to take care of before then."
"Oh." Is it my imagination, or does he sound disappointed? "Well, if you're trying to keep up your air of mystery, you don't need to try so hard."
I can't help the laugh that escapes me. "Goodnight, Asher."
"Wait!" he says, just as I'm about to hang up. "One more thing. If you're posing as a member of our pack, I need something to call you that's a little less James Bond-y."
I hesitate. It's been so long since anyone's called me by my real name. But that's not an option. It can never be an option.
"Alex," I say finally. "You can call me Alex."
"Alex," Asher repeats, and something in his voice makes my chest tighten. "Is that your name, or just what I can call you?"
I don't answer that. Can't answer. "Have a good night, Asher."
He sighs dramatically. "Goodnight, whoever you are. I hope someday we can actually meet and you'll tell me who you really are."
I hang up before he can say anything else, before the lump in my throat can betray me. His words echo in my head, unsettling me in a way I can't quite explain.
I stare at my phone for a long moment, trying to sort through the mess of emotions churning in my gut. Asher Wilde is dangerous. Not because he means me harm—I don't think he has a malicious bone in his body. But for some reason, he makes me think dangerous thoughts. Ask dangerous questions.
And that's more than enough reason to stay away.