"IP address confirmed," Euan announced to the camera. "We have you logging in from the West London server node. Device ID verified."
"We also have the receipt for the courier," Kit added, leaning down into the lens. "Sloppy tradecraft, mate."
Rowan held up the paperwork. "This is a cease and desist, a restraining order, and a notification of a lawsuit for illegal surveillance and corporate espionage. It's been filed with the Courts as of..." she checked her watch "...two minutes ago."
"And Miles?" I stepped forward.
I looked right into the black glass eye hidden in the ribbon.
"My name is Zia Vale," I said clearly. "I am the Executive Producer of Riot Theory. And these Alphas?"
I reached back. Alfie and Kit moved in, flanking me. Euan stood at my shoulder.
"They don't own me," I said. "I own the mix."
Rowan reached out and yanked the camera out of the vase. The feed cut.
"That," Alfie exhaled, collapsing onto the sofa, "was incredibly stressful. I hated yelling at you."
"You were very convincing," I said, stroking his hair. "A real prima donna."
"I channeled my inner Gareth," he shuddered.
"Tracking software indicates Miles disconnected the second Rowan said 'Hello'," Euan reported, closing his laptop. "He knows he's burned."
"He'll be fired by morning," Rowan said, stacking her papers. "The network can't keep him with a lawsuit pending. We just decapitated the opposition."
"And now," Kit said, locking the green room door. "The real paperwork."
Rowan spread the documents on the mustard yellow table.
Private Civil Partnership Agreement.
Limited Liability Company Operating Agreement: Pack Dynamics.
It wasn't a marriage license. It was better. It was a contract that bound our finances, our assets, and our medical decision-making rights together. It was a shield that saidYou cannot separate us.
"This protects the IP," Rowan explained, pointing to a clause. "Zia retains 100% ownership of her masters. The band retains theirs. But thepartnershipshares the touring revenue. If one of you goes down, the others hold the line."
"And this," she pointed to the medical section. "Next of kin. All three of you for her. Her for all three of you."
I looked at the lines. Four blank spaces.
I picked up the pen.
I didn't hesitate.
Zia Vale.
I passed the pen to Alfie.
Alfred King.
Then Euan.Euan Onyx.
Then Kit.Christopher Wilde.
We stared at the signatures. The ink was black and permanent.
