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I need to stay focused.

Except then I see it – the missed live stream.

My stomach drops.

“What?” Dane asks, catching my shift in posture.

I click the post, watching the playback load with a sinking feeling. “We missed a live performance from Honey.”

Xar sits up straighter. “You’re fucking kidding.”

Dane groans. “Are you serious?”

Honey is the artist we’ve been trying to get in touch with for months. She’s anonymous, elusive, never does interviews, never works with anyone. No one knows her real name, her face, nothing. But her voice? Her sound? It’s addictive. Raw and otherworldly, like smoke and silk.

The first time I heard it, I was hooked. She sings to heal some part of herself, but her words reached out and healed me. She’s what we need. The sound we’re missing. The thing that can bring our band back together.

And she just played a surprise set, and we fucking missed it. Too busy obsessing over an omega we don’t need.

I tap the screen, the video finally loading, and sound fills the room. Low, melancholic guitar. Then?—

That voice.

It slides over my skin, settles in my chest. It’s not just music – it’s felt. It’s lived.

“Jesus,” Xar mutters, leaning in.

Dane stays silent, but I can see the way his fingers twitch like he’s imagining playing along.

We watch in silence, drawn in despite ourselves, until my phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s our manager, Liv.

I answer. “Yeah?”

“Are you safe?” she asks immediately.

I frown. “What?”

“Are you safe?” she repeats.

“Yeah, of course. Why? Safe from what?”

“From the storm.”

I glance at Xar and Dane, but they look just as confused. “What storm? It’s a bit rainy and windy here but nothing dramatic worth writing home about.”

Liv sighs, like she knew we’d be oblivious. “The one that’s due to hit you soon. It’s all over the news – high winds, flash floods, power cuts. Where the hell have you been?”

Dane grabs the remote, switching on the TV. The weather report fills the screen, a massive storm system swirling towards our area, warnings flashing red at the bottom.

I curse under my breath, tell Liv we’re fine, and hang up.

Xar sits forward. “Evie’s out there.”

Dane doesn’t hesitate. “We need to go to her.”

I drag a hand through my hair, fighting the part of me that agrees – that’s been waiting for an excuse.

But this isn’t about me.