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Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. I snatch it up so fast I nearly drop it.

"Valentine," I answer, trying to sound casual.

"I've got what you asked for," says Ricky, my investigator. "Took some digging."

My heart rate kicks up. "Tell me."

"Dahlia Baldwin. Thirty-two. Geneticist with a focus on rare mutations. Works—or worked—at Helix Labs until recently. Now she's contracted with Blackthorn Biotech."

"Blackthorn?" The name sounds familiar. "The pharmaceutical company?"

"That's the one. Run by Evan Blackthorn. He's a rich bastard and a bit of a recluse."

"What else?" I press, aware that my bandmates are watching me.

"She lives in the university district, but..." Ricky pauses. "That's where it gets weird. She hasn't been home in days. Neighbors say some cop showed up and took her away. Then she was spotted at your concert, obviously, but after that... nothing. It's like she vanished."

My stomach tightens. "Is she in trouble?"

"I can't say for sure. But something's up. Her lab was broken into the week before she disappeared. And get this… her research is about the Crimson Plague."

The name sends a jolt through me. The Crimson Plague. The virus that's killing shifters across the country. I didn't know she was doing important work.

"You got a number for her?" I ask.

"Yeah, sending it now." My phone pings with a text. "That's all I could dig up without raising flags. Do you want me to keep looking?"

"Yeah. Keep me posted." I hang up and stare at the number on my screen.

"Well?" Marcus prompts. "You gonna call her or just stare at your phone all day?"

I flip him off again, but I'm already pressing the call button. My palms are sweating. What the fuck is happening to me?

The phone rings three times, and I'm about to hang up when she answers.

"Hello… Dahlia Baldwin speaking." Her voice is just as I remember it, low and rich.

"Dahlia." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "It's Axl. Valentine," I add, in case she's forgotten.

There's a pause. "How did you get this number?"

Not exactly the enthusiastic greeting I was hoping for.

"I have my ways," I say, trying to sound mysterious rather than creepy. "I wanted to invite you to my next show. It's a private performance, and very exclusive. I got you VIP access, of course."

"You tracked down my number to invite me to a concert?" She sounds more confused than flattered.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," I admit, ignoring the exaggerated kissing noises Derek is making in the background.

Another pause. "That's... flattering. But I'm not sure I can make it. My schedule is pretty packed for the next few days."

"I can be flexible," I offer quickly. "Any day that works for you."

"It's not that simple," she sighs. "I'm in the middle of some complicated research, and I can't really leave right now."

"I could come to you," I suggest, aware that I sound desperate, but I am beyond caring.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she says gently.