Claimed by the Band (Fameverse #1)

Chapter 20 – JORDAN

20

JORDAN

I stare at my laptop screen, reading Maria's results for the fifth time. The samples from PheroMaster are frustratingly inconclusive. Similar chemical compounds to what was used at the concert, but not quite identical. Close enough to be suspicious, but not enough for concrete proof.

My fingers hover over my phone. I should just send Asher a text with the basic findings, keep things professional. That's what I've always done. But this... this feels different. Personal. And after disappearing for five days, I owe him more than a clinical report.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I text him.

Got the results. Need to discuss in person. Too complicated for text/phone.

He’s already typing.

Name the time and place! We can work around your schedule.

My heart does a stupid little flip at his enthusiasm.

First, where are you guys?

Silvercrest! Playing the amphitheater tomorrow night.

I pull up a map. Silvercrest is clear across the country. Even if I left now, it would take me most of a day to get there by conventional means.

Might take me a while to get there.

Not if we send the jet! You could be here in time for dinner

I blink at the screen.

Their private jet?

The thought makes my palms sweat. But the alternative is sitting on this information, letting it eat away at me while I try to figure out how to explain it over text.

You don't have to do that.

Already texting our pilot! He says he can be at whatever airport is closest to you asap. Just say the word!

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. This is crazy. Reckless. Everything I've spent nine years avoiding. But if I'm right about this group that's targeting famous omegas…

I type before I can change my mind.

Okay.

Pine Valley Regional Airport.

Asher sends back a string of excited emojis that makes me smile in spite of myself.

Perfect! Pack an overnight bag. We've got plenty of room at the hotel and I'm not letting you leave until we've properly made up for you ghosting us for five days!

My stomach does a nervous flip.

Just dinner.

We'll see Sending you the jet details now. Can't wait to see you again, Alex!

The name hits me like a punch to the gut.

Right.

Alex .

The persona I created. The lie I'm living.

But it's too late to back out now. And if I'm honest with myself, I don't want to.

Not when a certain omega with violet eyes is waiting for me.

I grab my go-bag from under the bed—old habits die hard—and add a few extra changes of clothes just in case.

My suppressants and blockers go in their usual hidden pocket, along with my laptop and various burner phones. I hesitate before grabbing my lock picks and other tools. Probably won't need them, but better safe than sorry.

As I double-check my supplies, my phone buzzes with the flight details. The pilot's name, the tail number, even security codes to get through the private terminal. They really aren't messing around.

One more text from Asher pops up.

Thank you for trusting us enough to come. It means a lot.

Something warm and dangerous blooms in my chest. Trust. When was the last time I truly trusted anyone? I'm not sure that's even something I'm capable of anymore.

This is something else. It has to be.

I step onto the private jet, still not quite believing I'm doing this. The interior is all cream leather and polished wood, more like a luxury living room than any plane I've ever been on.

"Welcome aboard, sir," the flight attendant says with a warm smile. "Can I get you anything? Champagne perhaps?"

"Thank you. Just a ginger ale, please," I reply, settling into one of the plush seats. "And you can just call me Alex."

She nods, unfazed. "Of course, Mr. Alex. Make yourself comfortable. We'll be taking off shortly."

As I buckle in, I can't help but marvel at how different this is from commercial flights. No security lines, no cramped seats, no suspicious looks when my admittedly fake ID gets scrutinized too closely. Just smooth efficiency and comfort.

One of the many perks of being rich and famous, I guess.

The attendant returns with my ginger ale and a selection of snacks. My stomach churns at the sight of food. A lovely side effect of getting back on suppressants after being off them for nearly a week. I accept some crackers to be polite, hoping they'll help settle the nausea.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you with something more substantial?" she asks, genuine concern in her voice. "The chef prepared quite a spread."

I shake my head, forcing a smile. "Maybe later. Thank you."

As we take off, I pull out my laptop, intending to review Maria's findings again. But the gentle hum of the engines and the comfortable seat are making my eyelids heavy. I haven't been sleeping well since getting back on the suppressants—another fun side effect—and the warmth of the cabin is oddly soothing.

Before I know it, I'm drifting off, my last conscious thought being that I really shouldn't let my guard down like this...

I wake with a start as we touch down, momentarily disoriented. The flight attendant is already gathering my barely-touched snacks, a knowing smile on her face.

"We've arrived in Silvercrest," she announces. "I hope you enjoyed your rest."

I mumble my thanks, gathering my belongings and trying to shake off the lingering grogginess. I'm expecting a car to be waiting, maybe for one of their security team to escort me to wherever the band is staying.

What I'm not expecting is to step off the jet and see Asher, Damon, and Dante standing on the tarmac, holding an actual honest-to-god sign that reads "ALEX" in glittery letters.

My heart does a stupid little flip in my chest.

"You came!" Asher exclaims, rushing toward me. He's wearing tattered jeans and an oversized jean jacket covered in patches and studs that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, his golden hair catching the setting sun like a halo.

"I said I would," I manage, trying to ignore how my pulse quickens at the sight of him.

Of all of them, really.

Damon looks as solid and steady as ever in his dark henley, while Dante's grinning like we're all sharing some private joke.

"We know," Damon rumbles, his spicy, woodsy scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. "But after last time..."

He trails off, but the meaning is clear. After I disappeared for five days without a word, they weren't sure they could trust me to show up.

Guilt twists in my stomach. "About that?—"

"Water under the bridge!" Asher declares, stepping forward like he's about to hug me before catching himself. I'm pathetically grateful for his restraint. I'm not sure I could handle being that close to him right now, not with my system still adjusting to the suppressants and so recently out of heat.

Because apparently, somehow this omega manages to screw with my head like no alpha has for the better part of an entire decade.

"Nice sign," I say instead, nodding at the glittery monstrosity.

Dante laughs. "Ash insisted. He wanted to go full limo driver with a suit and everything, but we talked him down."

"You guys are no fun," Asher pouts, but his eyes are glinting with mischief.

"Someone has to be the voice of reason," Damon says dryly.

I stand there awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with all this... warmth. This easy rapport that they seem determined to include me in, despite everything.

"Come on," Asher says, gesturing toward a waiting SUV on the curb outside. "Let's get you settled at the hotel. Then you can tell us what was so important it required a cross-country flight."

Right. The case. That's why I'm here. Not because of the way Asher's smile makes my chest tight, or how Damon's presence makes me feel inexplicably safe, or how Dante's gentle teasing feels like something I could get used to.

I follow them to the car, reminding myself that this is just business. Nothing more.

I just wish my traitorous heart would believe it.