Chapter 40 – JORDAN
40
JORDAN
I adjust the binder one final time, smoothing down the front of my shirt in the mirror. The familiar motions feel different now—less like putting on armor and more like stepping into a role. My fingers move automatically through the practiced routine of becoming Echo again, my scent already masked by the blockers I haven't missed at all, but my mind keeps drifting to the pack waiting for me downstairs.
"You don't have to do this, you know."
I turn to find Asher leaning against the doorframe, his expression soft with concern as he watches me transform myself back into the person I spent so many years hiding behind.
"I know," I say, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "But I want to. This is who I had to be to survive. And now... now I get to choose to be Echo one last time. To finish what I started."
He crosses the room to stand behind me, the scent honey enveloping me before his arms do. "You're so brave," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "But you don't have to hide anymore. Not from us. Not from anyone."
I lean back against him, letting his strength support me for a moment. "I'm not hiding," I tell him softly. "Not really. This is just... a different part of me now. Echo helped me survive when Jordan couldn't. Helped me become strong enough to fight back."
His arms slide around my waist, holding me close. "You were always strong enough," he says firmly. "You just didn't know it yet."
The simple faith in his voice hits deep. Even after everything—learning what I am, who I used to be, all the lies I told—he still looks at me like I'm something precious. Something worth protecting.
"Ready?" he asks after a moment, though I can tell part of him still wants to bundle me up and keep me far away from anything connected to my past.
I nod, straightening my shoulders. "Ready."
The others are waiting in the living room when we come downstairs. Knox and Silas are discussing strategy in low voices while Dante paces restlessly. Damon stands by the window, his massive frame tense with protective energy.
They all look up when we enter, and the wave of combined alpha concern nearly overwhelms me. But underneath it is something else—pride, determination, love. These aren't just alphas wanting to protect their omega. This is my pack, ready to fight beside me.
"Looking good, Echo," Dante says with a wink, using the name deliberately. Letting me know he understands why I need this.
"Thanks," I say, managing a small smile. "Though I think the leather pants were probably overkill for a business meeting."
"No such thing," Asher declares, making everyone laugh.
The tension breaks, and suddenly it's just us again. My pack. My new family.
The drive to PheroMaster headquarters feels different this time. Instead of the nervous energy that filled the car before the party, there's a steady sense of purpose. I sit between Asher and Dante in the back seat, their solid warmth grounding me.
Silas catches my eye in the rearview mirror. "Remember the plan," he says quietly. "We're just here to talk."
"For now," Knox adds, a dangerous edge to his voice that makes me shiver.
I reach for Asher's hand, threading our fingers together. His thumb strokes my palm soothingly, and I'm struck by how natural it feels now. How right.
The lobby of PheroMaster's headquarters is exactly as I remember it—all gleaming chrome and harsh fluorescent lighting. The receptionist eyes us warily but doesn't comment on our return visit as she directs us to the executive elevator.
"Nice place," Dante mutters as we ascend. "Very 'evil corporation chic.'"
I can't help but snort at his description. He's not wrong. Everything about PheroMaster screams, “We're definitely not doing anything illegal here, why do you ask?"
Vince's office is somehow even more ostentatious than the lobby. The walls are covered in what look like original Renaissance paintings, except they're all… gym bros. Literally. One is a guy doing barbell reps in a sprawling garden and another is on a leg machine.
Is this asshole for real?
And the most ridiculous part of it all is an honest-to-god crystal chandelier the size of a car hanging over his massive desk.
"Welcome back!" Vince booms, rising from his leather throne with a slick smile. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea? Perhaps some caviar?" he adds in what I'm pretty sure is supposed to be a French accent.
It's not.
"We're fine," Silas says smoothly, taking point once again. "This won't take long."
Vince's smile falters slightly. "Since we're getting right to business..." He shuffles some papers on his desk, clearly trying to project authority. "We should discuss the incident at my party."
"Oh, that," Asher says in feigned concern. "I hope you were able to air everything out properly? It's such a shame the party had to come to such a potent premature end."
I have to cough just to cover my laugh.
Dante's not as successful.
Vince, on the other hand, is turning beet red and looks like the top of his head is going to pop off any second like a steam whistle.
"Yeah, right. My security cameras caught you tossing cabernet down my air vents," Vince bellows, pointing in accusation at Asher.
Asher just smiles innocently. "Did they? You know, I've always been so clumsy when I have a few. But you know what they say about omegas being lightweights."
"Bullshit!" Vince snarls, slamming his fists on his desk like the overgrown manbaby he is. It's not exactly an impressive display, but the alphas step between him and us anyway. "You know what you did! You ruined my party and you're not leaving here until you admit it!"
I exchange looks with Silas, who raises an eyebrow. "We could discuss that," he says mildly. "Or we could talk about these."
I pull the manila envelope from my bag, sliding the contents across Vince's polished desk. The photos fan out like playing cards—each one more damning than the last.
All the color drains from Vince's face as he stares at the evidence of his private activities. His hands shake as he reaches for them.
"This is—you can't—" He looks between the pictures and us, then back again. Suddenly, a light dawns in his eyes and a snatches up the photos, ripping them into pieces with trembling fingers. "Try to blackmail me now, asswipes!"
Asswipes ? What is he, fifteen?
"You didn't really think those were the only copies, did you?" Asher asks, his voice dripping with what actually sounds like genuine concern.
Dante just snickers.
Vince deflates like a punctured balloon, collapsing back into his chair. "This isn't fair," he whines, running his hands through his heavily gelled hair. It's so spiky, I find myself wondering if it hurts. And his debonair act comes undone just as easily as that awful hairstyle. "What do you want? Money?"
"Information," I say, speaking for the first time since entering his office. "About Dr. Trakiss’s after-hours… activities."
His head snaps up, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what you're talking about, beta ."
"I think you do," Silas says quietly. "The question is whether you're involved, or just willfully ignorant."
"I'm not—" Vince starts, then stops, glancing between us nervously. "Look, I just run the business side of things, okay? The science stuff, that's all Trakiss. I don't ask questions about what he does in the lab."
"Even when he's developing illegal weapons?" Dante asks casually.
Vince's face goes even paler. "What?"
"The attack at our concert," Knox rumbles. "We've done testing. The pheromone compound used came from your labs."
It's a bluff. We don't have enough evidence to prove it, but Vince folds like a fitted sheet all the same.
"I didn't know," Vince says quickly—too quickly. "I swear, I had no idea what he was doing. He just said he was working on new formulations for the retail line."
"At two in the morning?" I ask skeptically. "On a weekend?"
He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't know when he's here, I only come to this dump when my old man makes me for meetings. It's fucking boring," he groans, burying his face in his hands. "It's always, 'Look at these spreadsheets, Vince.' 'When are we going to order more paper, Vince?' ‘They’re fucking in the men's room, Vince!" Like I give a shit! I just wanted to play water polo, man."
We all stare at him blankly.
"Well," Dante says, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was… a lot."
Vince glares at him. "Like I said, I don't ask questions. It's better that way."
"Better for who?" Asher demands, folding his arms over his chest. "The omegas who get attacked? The people whose lives are destroyed by your products?"
"I just wanted to make money!" Vince protests. "I'm a businessman, not some crazy extremist. Whatever Trakiss is involved with, I don't have anything to do with it."
"Actually, you do," I say firmly. "And you'll have a hell of a time convincing the police otherwise when they find out the compound that was used to attack Asher was made right here on your machines, with your funding."
All the color drains from Vince's face. "But I… dude ," he whines again. "I swear, I had no idea what that weirdo was doing! I haven't even seen him since the party."
That catches me off guard.
"You haven't?" Damon asks before I can.
"No!" Vince snaps. "He just fucking bailed and left me with the cleanup. I mean, I had my employees do it, but still. They were asking me where the mops and stuff were and it was a total pain in the ass."
"That must have been so traumatic for you," Asher says in a dry tone.
"It was!" Vince bellows, because apparently, sarcasm is on the long list of concepts he fails to grasp. "Now I have to another nerd to do that asshole's job. As far as I'm concerned, he can rot in jail."
I study his face carefully, looking for any sign of deception. But all I see is fear—fear of exposure, fear of consequences, fear of losing everything he's built.
"Prove it," I say finally. "Give us access to the lab and its records. All of them."
"Fine, fine," Vince says, waving his hand dismissively. "Whatever you want. Just..." He glances at the shredded photos on his desk, then back at us with pleading eyes. "You'll delete everything once you have what you need, right?"
"When we have what we need," Silas says pointedly, emphasizing the 'when' in a way that makes Vince squirm.
I watch him carefully as he buzzes his secretary, but his relief seems genuine. Either he's telling the truth about not being involved with Trakiss’s activities, or he's a better actor than I gave him credit for. Given his previous displays of... everything, I'm leaning toward the former.
The secretary who appears looks exactly like what you'd expect from a corporate alpha's assistant—perfectly coiffed hair, designer suit, and an expression that suggests she's the one actually running this place. She barely blinks at Vince's request to escort us to the lab, just gestures for us to follow her efficient stride down the hallway.
"I've actually never been down here," Vince comments as we enter the lab, looking around with obvious disinterest. "Too many... sciencey things."
"Shocking," Asher mutters under his breath, making me bite back a smile.
I head straight for the main computer terminal, my fingers already itching to dive in. This is what I do best—finding the digital breadcrumbs people think they've hidden. The familiar rhythm of typing helps calm my racing heart as I work through Trakiss’s security measures.
"Did you find what you're looking for?" Knox asks, hovering protectively nearby.
"Yes," I say, my eyes scanning the data scrolling across the screen. "Someone tried to delete these records, but they didn't know about the automatic backup system. That must be why Trakiss ran—he realized he'd failed to cover his tracks completely."
"Lazy douchebag," Vince grumbles from where he's poking at some equipment across the room. "Always leaving messes for other people to clean up."
"Don't touch that," I snap without looking up from my screen. The last thing we need is this idiot accidentally triggering something dangerous.
I quickly send the relevant files to my secure server and start printing hard copies for good measure. The steady whir of the printer feels like victory, each page another nail in Trakiss’s coffin.
"Is that what we need?" Asher asks proudly, like I've just performed some kind of magic trick instead of basic data recovery.
"I think so," I say, gathering the printouts carefully. "But I need to get these to my contact first, see if the formulas match the samples from the attack. If they do, we'll have enough evidence for the police." Vince wanders back over from poking at a bunch of expensive equipment, so I add, "I think we've got everything."
"Great!" Vince says with obvious relief. "And you'll tell them I had nothing to do with any of this illegal stuff, right? I mean, I'm a victim here too!"
Silas gives him a long look that makes him shrink back slightly. "We'll see," he says finally. "Keep your phone handy. We might need something else from you."
"But—" Vince starts to protest, but one growl from Knox has him snapping his mouth shut.
As we head toward the exit, I can't shake the feeling that this was too easy. Nothing in my life has ever been this simple, especially not when it comes to taking down powerful people. But the evidence is real—I can see that much in the formulas and testing logs. Whatever game Trakiss is playing, he slipped up here.
I feel Asher's hand slip into mine as we walk, and the simple touch soothes my frayed nerves and unanswered questions. The rest of the pack moves with us as we make our way through the building.
"You okay?" Asher murmurs as we reach the lobby.
I squeeze his hand, letting myself draw strength from his unwavering support. "Yeah," I say softly. "Just... processing."
The truth is, I'm better than okay. For the first time since I escaped the compound, I feel like I'm actually making progress toward stopping these people. Not just running and hiding, but fighting back.
Now, I just have to figure out how the hell Trakiss is connected to my former cult.