Claimed by the Band (Fameverse #1)

Chapter 31 – JORDAN

31

JORDAN

I adjust my tie in the mirror, smoothing down the burgundy silk shirt that somehow makes my eyes look bigger, my skin warmer. Asher was right. The color does something magical that I can't quite explain. Or maybe it's just the memory of his fingers rolling up my sleeves, careful and gentle.

The formal clothes feel strange after years of baggy sweaters and oversized hoodies. The tailored lines show off a body I've spent so long trying to hide. Even with the binder, there's a softness to my body that the fitted clothing highlights rather than conceals. But somehow, I don't hate it. Maybe because Asher picked it out. Maybe because for the first time in nine years, I'm actually considering letting someone see me. Really see me.

Today felt like a dream. Shopping with them, laughing over lunch, being treated like I belong. Like I'm more than just their temporary ally. The way Dante kept sneaking extra spring rolls onto my plate. How Damon's hand would brush my shoulder whenever he passed behind my chair. The pride in Asher's eyes every time I tried on something new.

I want more days like that. More mornings cooking with Knox, more lazy afternoons sprawled across the tour bus couches while Silas works on new songs. More nights falling asleep wrapped in Asher's honeyed scent.

But I can't have any of that, not really. Not without them knowing the truth. And once they do...

My hands shake as I adjust my collar one last time. I've only solidified my decision since the store. Tonight, after the mission, I'm going to tell Asher everything. About being an omega. About who—what—I really am. He deserves to know before this goes any further. Before I fall even deeper than I already have.

If he still wants me after... well, that's a bridge I'll cross when I get there. If I get there. The thought of rejection makes my chest tight, but the thought of continuing to lie to all of them hurts worse.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of my room at the hotel and into the suite's living area. The conversation dies as five heads turn in my direction, and I have to fight the urge to retreat back into my sanctuary.

But then I get a good look at them, and my brain short-circuits.

Knox is wearing a black three-piece suit that makes his shoulders look even broader, if that's possible.

Silas went with charcoal gray, the subtle pinstripes elongating his already impressive height. A blood-red tie matches the handkerchief in his breast pocket, adding just enough color to draw the eye.

Dante's midnight blue suit somehow manages to look both elegant and edgy, especially paired with the artfully messy way he's styled his dark hair.

Damon's chosen classic black as well, but his jacket is cut to emphasize his powerful build. The effect is devastating.

And Asher... oh god .

He's wearing a suit in deep purple so dark it looks black until the light hits it just right. The color makes his violet eyes practically glow, and the cut of the jacket emphasizes his lean build. His golden hair is styled in soft waves that beg my fingers to run through them. He looks ethereal, otherworldly, and so beautiful it actually hurts.

"You look amazing," he breathes, and it takes me a moment to realize he's talking about me.

Heat creeps up my neck as I fidget with my sleeve. "Thanks," I manage. "You all look... uh…."

"I think we broke the beta," Dante teases, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "I mean, I'm flattered we left you speechless, but we do need you functional tonight."

My face burns even hotter, and I resist the urge to tug at my collar. "Sorry, I just... you all clean up nice."

"So do you," Knox rumbles, and something in his tone makes my stomach flip. When did he start looking at me like that?

"Are you ready for tonight?" Silas asks, all business despite how devastatingly handsome he looks in that suit.

"Yeah," I say, perhaps too quickly. My mind flashes to what comes after. The conversation I need to have with Asher. With all of them, maybe. My palms start to sweat at the thought. "Just... nervous about getting what we need."

"We've got your back," Asher says softly, reaching for my hand. His fingers lace through mine, warm and steady. "All of us."

If only you knew what I'm really nervous about, I think but don't say.

We make our way down to the waiting SUV, and I'm surprised when Knox slides into the back seat next to me before Asher can claim his usual spot. Even more surprising is that no one seems to find this unusual. Dante takes the driver's seat with Damon riding shotgun, while Silas settles into the row behind us.

"Alright," Silas says as we pull away from the hotel, leaning forward over the seat enough that I can feel his body heat on my back, his breath stirring the hairs at the nape of my neck. "Let's go over it one more time. Vince said his lead scientist will be there tonight, supposedly some genius who's revolutionizing pheromone synthesis."

"And while we keep them occupied," Asher adds, his hand still in mine, "Alex slips away to check out the lower offices."

"The party's in the main ballroom on the top floor," I explain, recounting what I know from the email Vince sent out to all his guests, forcing myself to focus on the mission instead of how good Knox and Asher smell. "Security will be concentrated there, which makes the executive offices on the lower level our best shot at finding something concrete."

"Are you sure you can get in?" Knox asks, and there's genuine concern in his voice rather than the skepticism I would have expected a few weeks ago.

I pat the small case hidden in my jacket that contains my tools. "Those locks won't be a problem. If they're manual, I've got my gear. If they're digital, I've got breakers for that, too."

"I love it when you talk nerdy," Asher purrs, his hand coming to rest on my knee.

My face grows warm, a shiver running down my spine at the simple touch. "The challenge will be timing it right so no one notices I'm gone," I say, my voice cracking a little. And not just from the lower register I'm used to keeping as part of my disguise.

"Leave that to us," Dante calls from the front seat. "We're very good at being distracting when we want to be."

"That's what worries me," I say dryly. The truth is, I trust them to have my back. The realization should probably terrify me more than it does.

"How long do you think you'll need?" Damon asks, twisting in his seat to look back at me.

"Twenty minutes, tops," I say after considering it. "Any longer than that and someone's bound to notice, no matter how much of a nuisance you make of yourselves," I tease.

That earns a chuckle from the pack.

"Then that's what you'll get," Asher declares with that fierce protectiveness that makes my spine tingle. "We'll create such a spectacle they won't even remember you were there."

"Just try not to start any fights," Silas says dryly, but I catch the way his eyes soften when they land on Asher.

"No promises," Knox growls, and I find myself leaning slightly into his solid warmth without meaning to. "If that sleazeball Vince so much as looks at them wrong…"

Them…?

I know he's talking about Asher, but…

It hits me that I'm the only other person he could be talking about in this pack full of towering, musclebound alphas. The thought that Knox of all people views me as something he needs to protect shouldn't make my chest feel as warm as it does.

"We'll all need to stay focused," I say, clearly my throat. "So we should probably keep the drinks to a minimum."

"And the canapés," Asher says, giving Dante a pointed look. "I know how sidetracked you get with appetizers."

"Like you're one to talk," Dante grumbles halfheartedly.

Asher just grins.

It's going to be one hell of a night.

The crown logo of PheroMaster’s headquarters glows in red neon above the entrance, illuminating the valets and security personnel stationed outside the massive glass and chrome building.

"Subtle," Knox mutters as we step out of the SUV.

A doorman in an impeccably tailored suit guides us to a private elevator, its interior all mirrors and gold trim. My stomach lurches as we begin our ascent to the top floor, and not just from the motion. Asher's hand finds mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

When the doors open, I'm assaulted by a wave of artificial pheromones even stronger than what they pump through their showroom. A massive orgy full of people who haven't showered in weeks couldn't create a chemical cocktail quite this potent.

And yet, it seems my blockers are holding. Or maybe PheroMaster's products are just so repulsive my inner omega has finally shriveled up and died.

That would be a bit ironic.

If there's one silver lining, it's that no one is going to notice anything tonight if my blockers happen to fail.

The massive space has been transformed into something out of a fever dream—crystal chandeliers dripping with red roses, ice sculptures shaped like the company's crown logo, and everywhere, mirrors multiplying the effect into infinity.

"It's like a villain's bachelor pad threw up in here," Dante whispers, making me bite back a laugh.

We're immediately directed to a table near the entrance where an attendant is distributing elaborate masquerade masks. Because of course they are.

"Oh my god, this is perfect!" Asher cries, immediately gravitating toward a delicate fox mask in burnished gold. The way it frames his violet eyes is stunning, the pointed ears and clever design perfectly capturing his playful nature.

"If he tries to get the number for Vince's interior designer tonight, someone runs interference," Damon says in a convincingly grave tone.

"Agreed," Silas sighs.

The others select their masks with surprising enthusiasm. Knox chooses a wolf mask in gunmetal gray that emphasizes his dangerous grace.

Silas picks a crow mask in deep bronze, its sharp angles matching his aristocratic features.

Dante opts for a sleek panther mask in black and gold, while Damon selects a bear mask in rich brown leather that somehow manages to look both fierce and gentle.

Fitting choices for all four of them.

Asher's mask is still my favorite, though.

He must catch me staring because he gives me a wink. "Your turn, Alex."

I hover uncertainly at the table, overwhelmed by the options. Everything feels too ornate, too attention-grabbing. The exact opposite of what I'm usually trying to achieve. Especially tonight.

I look back at the remaining selection of masks, hesitant, before I settle on a cream colored mask crafted to look like a cat. It's simple compared to the others, done in matte porcelain with subtle silver detailing around the eyes.

I reach for it, but pause when I notice the others exchanging meaningful looks. "What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," Dante says way too quickly.

"Spill it," I demand, crossing my arms.

Asher bites his lip, clearly trying not to laugh. "We may or may not have a nickname for you..."

My eyebrows shoot up. "A nickname?"

"Feral kitten," he admits, then immediately points at Dante. "But he started it!"

"Tattletale," Dante huffs, but he's grinning. "In my defense, you do remind me of some of the strays I've rehabilitated. All bristly on the outside but secretly sweet and affectionate once you earn their trust."

Heat creeps up my neck as I process this. They have a nickname for me. An affectionate one, apparently. One they all use when I'm not around. I'm not used to people thinking about me at all when I'm out of sight, let alone fondly.

"I am not bristly," I mutter, but I can't quite keep the smile off my face as I take the cat mask.

"You kind of are," Knox rumbles, adjusting his wolf mask. "But we like you anyway."

"Careful," I warn, settling the mask over my face. "I bite."

"We're counting on it," Asher purrs, and something in his tone makes my stomach flip.

Before I can process that particular implication, Silas clears his throat. "Alright, let's head in."

Right. The mission. Finding evidence linking PheroMaster to the attack. Not getting distracted by how good everyone looks in their masks.

The ballroom is an undulating sea of masks and bodies, all moving to the pulse of music that throbs through my bones. The artificial pheromones are even stronger in here, making my head swim despite my suppressants.

"Man, it stinks in here," Knox growls, wrinkling his nose beneath his wolf mask. "Like every alpha in the city decided to mark their territory at once."

"I can't even smell Asher," Dante complains, leaning closer to our omega as if to verify. "It's like chemical warfare in here."

Asher just laughs, the sound somehow cutting through the noise and chaos. "Come on," he says, eyes sparkling behind his fox mask as he grabs Dante's hand. "Let's dance!"

I'm content to watch from the sidelines as they move toward the dance floor, because rhythm and me aren't words that belong in the same sentence, but Asher has other ideas. He turns back, extending his free hand to me. "Oh no, you too, kitty cat."

"I don't dance," I protest weakly, even as he pulls me into their orbit.

"I'll lead," he promises, and then his arm is around my waist and I'm pressed against him in a way that makes my heart race. "Just follow my body."

And what a body it is. As his strong arms encircle me, I'm reacquainted with the lean, muscular lines of his torso. There's somehow even less fabric between us than when we're cuddling in bed.

This is dangerous. And not just because it's a chance of him realizing the truth beneath my disguise.

The rest of the pack crowds in around us, creating a protective circle that shields us from prying eyes even as it puts me at the center of their combined attention. Knox's solid presence at my back, Dante and Damon flanking us while Silas keeps watch from the edge of our little bubble.

"Relax," Asher murmurs in my ear, his hand warm on my lower back as he guides me through what feels more like instinctive movement to the rhythm than any kind of choreographed dance. I'm not really sure what I thought people were doing at clubs before tonight. Line dancing? "You're doing fine."

I catch glimpses of other guests watching us through the gaps between bodies, some with naked lust, others with obvious envy. Plenty with both.

We must make quite a sight, this famous omega rockstar and his pack of gorgeous alphas all in their elegant masks. All moving together like they share one mind, one heartbeat.

And somehow, impossibly, I'm part of it.

At least in this mask and outfit, I don't feel quite as out of place. Another layer of armor.

Asher spins me, and I find myself caught by Dante, who seamlessly takes over leading while Asher moves to dance with Knox. There's no awkwardness, no jealousy, just a fluid exchange that feels as natural as breathing. Then it's Damon's turn, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he guides me through a turn.

The music pulses, the artificial pheromones swirl, and something shifts. I can feel it in my bones, the way we're all connected. The pack bonds I've read about but never experienced firsthand are almost visible now, threads of gold linking them all together.

And there are threads reaching for me too, paper-thin but growing stronger with every beat of the music, every shared breath, every casual touch that feels anything but casual.

It's dangerous. Everything I've spent nearly half my life running from, everything I told myself I could never have.

But in this moment, wrapped in their combined warmth and protection, I let myself want it. Let myself imagine what it would be like to really be part of this, to belong to them and have them belong to me in return.

Asher presses up against me from behind, and his hand slides down my chest. The simple touch sends electricity racing through me, making my spine arch. I want to purr, to melt into him completely, but then Dante leans in from the front, his fingers tangling in my hair.

I wonder briefly if it's the pheromones affecting them, but they all seem perfectly in control of themselves. Which is more than I can say for my own willpower right now. It's slipping fast, and it has nothing to do with whatever chemical cocktail they're pumping through the vents. If anything, it's in spite of it. The artificial alpha musk is repulsive, but their scents...

"You smell so good," Dante whispers in my ear, his voice rough. "Like rain and..."

"Roses," Asher purrs in agreement from behind me, his breath hot on my neck.

Fuck . They can't… My scent should be muted, shouldn't it? I mean, they'd still be able to smell a little, minus the omega pheromones, but…

Then, Dante leans in and his breath ghosts across my neck as he scents me again and I lose the ability to give a shit about any of it. I melt between them, my head spinning as Silas moves in on my right. The others are close too. I'm too entranced by all the touching to see exactly where, but I can feel them. Their heat, their scents, their presence surrounding me completely.

If it wasn't for Asher's arm snaking around my waist, holding me upright, I'm not sure I'd be standing at all. Then when Dante's tongue flicks against my throat, what's left of my composure unravels and I let out a quiet whimper.

"What a cute little sound," Asher purrs in my ear, nipping at the lobe. "I wonder what kinds of sounds you'd make if we were inside you."

Dante lifts his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes as they blacken with hunger at the thought.

This is dangerous. So fucking dangerous. The suppressants are working, but something about being wrapped up in their combined attention is making my carefully constructed walls crumble all the same.

Asher's hand splays across my stomach, and I have to bite back another gasp. His touch is fire through the silk of my shirt, and I know I should pull away. Should make some excuse about checking the offices now while everyone's distracted. But my body has other ideas, pressing back against him even as I lean into Dante's solid warmth. My ass grinds against Asher's huge cock, and I realize he's partially hard through his leathers. We've cuddled enough for me to have an idea of his size, even if he's always been a gentleman about it, but the reminder makes something deep in my core throb with want.

"You fit between us so perfectly," Asher murmurs, grinding into me in turn while Dante presses even closer against me from the front, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Like you were made for us."

The words make that deep ache even sharper. Because I want that so badly. Want to belong to them, with them. Want to let them see all of me, even the parts I've kept hidden for so long.

Before I can respond, a familiar oily voice cuts through my haze, shattering the bubble we're in.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite pack!"

Vince appears through the crowd like a particularly sleazy phantom, resplendent in a gaudy gold suit that matches his crown mask. The sight of him is like a bucket of cold water, snapping me back to reality even as Asher's arm tightens protectively around my waist and he lets out a slight growl of possession that vibrates against my back.

Dante and Asher both give him looks that could curdle milk, but Silas smoothly steps forward, ever the diplomat. "Vince," he says coolly. "Quite the interesting atmosphere you've created here."

"Only the best for our most esteemed guests," Vince purrs, his eyes lingering on Asher in a way that makes my skin crawl. "I trust you're enjoying the enhanced pheromone blend? It's one of our newest formulations."

That explains why everything feels so intense. The air on my skin, the brush of Asher's hair against my shoulder, the hardness of his body against mine. The thought should terrify me, but Asher's warmth against my back is oddly grounding. At least I don't have to worry about selling our cover story now. Anyone looking at us right now would assume we're just another pack in the early stages of incorporating a new member, giddy on hormones and each other.

"It's certainly... potent," Silas says diplomatically, though I catch the slight wrinkle of his nose beneath his crow mask.

"Speaking of new formulations," Vince continues, practically glowing with self-importance, "I believe I promised to introduce you to our lead scientist. He's been quite eager to meet you all, especially after hearing about your unique request."

My head snaps up and clears immediately. This is it, our chance to get close to someone who might actually know something about the attack. But Vince's words make me uneasy. What exactly has he told this scientist about us?

"We'd be honored," Silas says smoothly, though his hand twitches like he wants to punch Vince instead of shake his hand.

"Excellent!" Vince claps his hands together. "Follow me."

As we move to follow him through the crowd, Asher's arm stays firmly around my waist. His pleasant scent forms an invisible shield around me, helping cut through the artificial musk that permeates the air.

"You okay?" he whispers against my ear, and I have to suppress a shiver.

"Yeah," I manage, though my voice comes out breathier than intended. "I should be asking you that."

"The new suppressants are working like a charm," he says, giving me another worried once over. "Is the scent bothering you?"

I swallow hard, suddenly jealous of those pills. Mine aren't holding up quite as well, but I don't think it has anything to do with Vince's artificial musk and everything to do with the pack. Each one's scent is like it was made just to tempt me, but combined? It's not fair.

Even on the bus, I've never been so close to all of them at once, let alone all the touching.

"I'm fine," I lie, my voice sounding hoarser than usual. "Just tired."

His thumb strokes my hip, and the simple touch nearly undoes me. "Stay close," he murmurs. "We've got you."

The possessive note in his voice makes something deep inside me purr. It's getting harder to remember why I've spent so long running from this feeling, this sense of belonging. Of being protected and wanted.

But then I catch sight of myself in one of the many mirrors. I see the cat mask hiding my face, the carefully constructed male facade, all the lies I've built my life around, and reality crashes back in. After tonight, after I tell them the truth, they might never look at me the same way again.

The thought hurts deep in my core, but I force myself to focus on the mission. On following Vince through the crowd toward this scientist who just might hold the answers we're looking for. On gathering evidence that could protect Asher and other omegas like him from people who want to control us.

Like my family. Like PheroMaster. Like everyone who thinks omegas should be seen and not heard, used and not valued.

"Almost there," Vince calls over his shoulder as we approach a quieter corner of the ballroom. "I think you'll find Dr. Trakiss’s work quite enlightening."

He talks like someone who just discovered a thesaurus, and wants everyone to think he's brilliant, but it's a facade every bit as clearly as his gaudy gold-plated offices and everything else about PheroMaster.

I feel the pack tense around me, their protective instincts clearly on high alert. Even through the artificial pheromone haze, I can sense their readiness to act if anything seems off.

My eyes widen as Vince leads us to a quiet corner where a tall man with light hair and sharp brown eyes waits.

Dr. Trakiss is nothing like what I expected. His energy is completely different from Vince's sleazy alpha posturing. He radiates intelligence and something else I can't quite place, even behind a gray, vaguely canine mask.

But what strikes me the hardest is the fact that he's a beta.

The pack seems equally surprised by his secondary gender. I catch Knox and Silas exchanging glances, clearly reassessing their own expectations.

We're all thinking the same thing. Why on earth would a beta devote his career to creating pheromones that primarily affect alphas and omegas?

The only answer that occurs to me is control.

"Dr. Trakiss," Vince announces with his usual smarmy charm, "allow me to introduce you to Wild Honey and their newest addition."

The scientist inclines his head politely. "A pleasure to meet you all. I understand you're interested in the potential development of a new product?"

Before anyone can respond, a waitress appears, her omega scent barely detectable under PheroMaster's cheap perfume. Her glittery uniform leaves little to the imagination as she offers drinks, batting her eyes at the alphas and lingering particularly long on Asher.

Not that I can really blame her. They're all gorgeous, but Asher's charm and beauty is just plain otherworldly.

I tense, but Asher just accepts a glass with a polite smile, his arm never leaving my waist. In fact, none of them seem to even notice her obvious flirting. That's when I realize they've positioned themselves strategically around Asher and me in a protective formation that feels both natural and deliberate.

Asher's touch grounds me as Silas takes the lead. "After the recent incident at our concert, we're looking into suppressant options that artificial pheromones can't override. Even ones that are off market, if you catch my drift."

"Ah yes, I saw the footage on the news," Trakiss remarks, his sharp eyes studying us behind that blank mask. "You all handled yourselves remarkably well. Especially you, Mr. Wilde."

Asher's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Being marked by four alphas helps," he says, gesturing to the bite marks visible above his collar. "But the issue wasn't how the pheromones affected me, it was how my natural scent made me a target for the affected alphas."

"Yes, of course," Trakiss murmurs, something flickering in his expression that sets off warning bells in my head.

My mouth feels dry suddenly, and I reach for a glass from a waitress passing by offering champagne. The cat mask is longer than the others', making it awkward to drink, so I lift it slightly to take a sip. Just enough to steady my nerves, hopefully not enough to fuck with my suppressants. But I feel like I'm going to pass out if I don't drink something.

Trakiss freezes mid-sentence, staring at me like he's seen a ghost. His face drains of color, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he recognizes me. But that's impossible. Even without the mask, I look nothing like I did nine years ago.

And even if I did, I've never seen him before in my life. I'm sure I'd remember him, too. Maybe he's just wondering why such a plain beta is the new plaything of the most coveted pack in the world.

The realization brings me back down to planet earth, but it's a relief. The simplest explanation is usually the correct one, but I make sure the mask is firmly back in place anyway.

"Is something wrong?" Silas asks, his voice sharp with suspicion.

"No, no," Trakiss recovers quickly, though his eyes keep darting to my face. "Just... reminded me of someone for a moment. Now, regarding potential options..."

He launches into a detailed explanation of different suppressant formulations, but I barely hear him. I feel unsteady on my feet until Asher's arm tightens protectively around my waist. I guess I'm not the only one getting bad vibes from Trakiss.

That or he's looking for any excuse to keep touching me. But that could all change in a matter of hours.

My attention drifts as Trakiss launches into increasingly technical explanations of molecular structures and receptor binding. Vince's eyes glaze over and he starts to look like he's in genuine physical pain. After a few minutes of nodding along like he understands, he makes a flimsy excuse about needing to check on his other guests.

Through the crowd, I spot him making a beeline for the bar instead. Typical.

I force myself to refocus on Trakiss. I need to stay sharp, need to get through this so I can complete my mission. The artificial pheromones flooding the room aren't helping my concentration, making my skin feel too tight and my thoughts fuzzy around the edges. But it's the pack that's really testing the limits of the drugs flowing through my veins, suppressing my true nature as an omega.

"Despite the obvious difficulties in development," Silas says smoothly, drawing my attention back to the conversation, "we're prepared to fund research into an effective product. Quite generously, in fact."

Trakiss’s eyes light up at that, and I can practically see dollar signs dancing in his head. Perfect timing.

"Excuse me," I murmur, slipping past the protective barrier the pack has formed around me and Asher. "I need to use the restroom."

Asher's arm tightens around my waist for a moment before releasing me. "Be careful," he whispers, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.

I give him a slight nod and slip away from the group, weaving through the dancers on the floor. The bathroom sign glows like a beacon at the end of the hallway, and I duck inside for appearance's sake. The cool water feels amazing on my face as I lean over the sink, trying to steady my racing heart.

"You're not in heat," I whisper to my reflection, barely visible behind the cat mask. "It's just the artificial pheromones. The suppressants are working fine."

Still, I pop another pill just to be safe, chasing it with a blocker. My hands shake slightly as I roll the topical blocker over my pulse points—throat, wrists, behind my ears, and of course, the groin. Can't be too careful, not with how intense everything feels tonight.

After one final check to make sure my scent is completely masked, I slip back into the hallway. The elevator bank is just around the corner, partially hidden behind an elaborate flower arrangement. Security is focused on the main entrance and the ballroom, just as I predicted.

Time to get to work.

I approach the elevators, trying to look casual. Like I belong here. Like I'm just another guest who's had too much to drink and gotten turned around looking for the bathroom.

The security panel beside the elevator requires a keycard, but that's no problem. I pull out my modified card reader, disguised as a phone, and hold it against the panel. Three seconds later, the light turns green.

As I step into the elevator, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored walls, the cat mask gleaming under the soft lights, Asher's scent still clinging to my clothes.

I step out of the elevator into the darkened office floor, immediately slipping off my mask. If anyone's still here working late, a masquerade attendee would draw too much attention. I tuck it behind a large decorative fern on a side table, making a mental note to grab it on my way back up.

The corporate bullpen is exactly what you'd expect with bland cubicles, generic office furniture, and motivational posters that probably haven't been updated since the 90s. It's a far cry from the gaudy opulence upstairs, which tells me Vince doesn't spend much time down here where the actual work happens. Typical alpha CEO, all flash, no substance.

My shoes click softly on the linoleum as I make my way to the nearest security camera. Climbing onto a chair, which is way harder in these pants than it should be, I pull out my modified phone and connect it to the camera's feed. A few quick keystrokes, and the feed loops empty office footage. No evidence I was ever here.

The research and development offices are easy to spot. They're the only ones with actual walls and doors instead of cubicles. The nameplate on the biggest office reads "Dr. Adam Trakiss, Head of Research." Perfect.

The lock is pathetically simple to pick. These people really need better security if they're going to keep developing illegal pheromone weapons. Then again, I probably shouldn't complain about their incompetence making my job easier.

Dr. Trakiss’s office is surprisingly cluttered for someone so high up the corporate ladder. Papers cover every surface, and whiteboards filled with molecular diagrams line the walls. His computer sits dark and silent on the desk, waiting.

I slip into his chair, pulling out my equipment. The computer's security is slightly better than the door's, but not by much. Within minutes, I'm in his system, copying everything to my secure server.

As the files transfer, my eyes scan the papers scattered across his desk. Most of it is standard research stuff. Trial results, molecular structures, grant proposals. But if he has any connection to the shady shit that's been going on, I'll be able to find it later when I comb through all of this in greater detail.

I freeze as a clatter echoes down the hallway, my heart leaping into my throat. The sound of voices follows, at least two people having what sounds like a heated discussion.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

I hastily finish up, willing the file transfer to move faster. The progress bar seems to mock me, crawling forward at a snail's pace.

89%...

90%...

91%...

The voices are getting closer. I can't make out what they're saying yet, but their footsteps echo off the bare walls of the corporate hallway. My pulse pounds in my ears as I glance between the door and the computer screen.

93%...

94%...

"...don't care what he says, this is too risky," a male voice says, close enough now that I can make out the words. "If anyone finds out..."

"No one's going to find out," another voice responds, this one female and sharp with authority. "We've handled it all perfectly."

"Yeah, but Vince?—"

"Vince is a moron," she scoffs. "He wouldn't notice a bonfire right in front of his face."

96%...

97%...

I start disconnecting non-essential equipment, shoving it back in my hidden pockets. The voices are almost at the R&D section now. I can't risk being caught in here, but I also can't leave without these files. Not when we're so close.

98%...

99%...

Bingo.

I yank out the drive and slip it into my pocket, feeling nauseous as I ease the office door shut behind me. The voices are closer now, just around the corner in the main hallway. There's no time to make it back to the elevator without being seen.

Dropping into a crouch, I duck behind the nearest cubicle wall. The carpet is rough against my palms as I crawl to a better vantage point, careful to keep my movements silent. Years of practice make it almost second nature, even in these tight dress pants.

"You worry too much," the female voice says, closer now. Close enough that I can smell her. Definitely an alpha, her scent sharp and commanding.

"Someone has to," the male responds, and now I can tell he's a beta. His scent is muted, nervous. "If Vince finds out..."

"Please," she scoffs, and I hear the distinct sound of a body being pushed against the wall. "What did I tell you? That idiot is too busy pretending he's into omegas to notice shit. Another alpha who works in my decision says he begged her to tie him up last month and shove her stiletto into the slit of his cock."

I clamp a hand over my mouth, barely managing to choke back a startled laugh.

That was… not something I had on my bingo card tonight.

"Ew," the male beta says, and I can practically see the disgust on his face. "I did not need that mental image."

"Let me give you a better one to replace it with, then," she purrs.

I risk peeking around the corner of the cubicle, curiosity getting the better of me. My eyes widen at the sight—a tall female alpha in an expensive suit has the male beta pinned to the wall, one hand tangled in his tie. As I watch, she yanks him down into a fierce kiss that has him melting against the wall.

Well. This wasn't exactly the corporate espionage I was expecting to witness.

When they break apart, the beta looks dazed but happy. "I guess you have a point about Vince," he admits, straightening his glasses. "Did you see him practically drooling over those rockstar alphas earlier? Must be why he keeps reapplying all that hair gel."

"Exactly," she purrs, nipping at his jaw. "Trust me, no one's going to know about us. And even if they did..." She shrugs one elegant shoulder. "Have you seen the way that man acts trying to overcompensate? He's a walking HR disaster."

The beta chuckles, his hands settling on her hips. "You might be right about that."

A sudden crash echoes from upstairs, followed by what sounds like shouting. Sounds like my distraction came through right on schedule.

The alpha pulls back with a frown. "What was that?"

"We should probably go check," the beta says reluctantly. "You know how these parties can get."

"Ugh, fine." She straightens his tie with practiced fingers. "But we're finishing this later."

They hurry toward the elevator, and my shoulders sag in relief. That was way too close.

I count to sixty in my head before standing, muscles protesting from being crouched for so long. The elevator displays show both cars heading up to the party. They probably went separate to avoid suspicion, so I should be in the clear to make my escape.

I grab my mask, turn toward the exit, and immediately hit a wall that wasn't there a second ago.

No. Not a wall.

A person.

And as I find myself staring up into Dr. Trakiss’s cold eyes, I know I'm screwed.