2.2

“Yulia, who?” Kalen pressed, still the embodiment of calm. His expression didn’t so much as twitch as Yulia stepped toward him, her eyes crawling down his chest.

Something hot and ugly rose up inside Isobel, making her hands tingle.

“Novikov,” Yulia replied, her lips curving into a tight smile. “COO of the Stone Dahlia. I don’t really have much to do with the show, so our paths haven’t crossed before. But I’ve monitored a few of your performances in the Dahlia.”

Kalen dismissed Yulia as soon as the words were out of her mouth, glancing at the other two women by the door before turning his attention back to Rowe. “What are you asking us to do? Be specific.”

“You’re not the one who gives orders in this room,” Callum snarled, smashing his fist onto the table for emphasis before he seemed to regain control, running his hand through his rich- brown hair—hair that didn’t seem to match his complexion at all. It seemed far too thick and lustrous.

Isobel cautiously reached out with her power, attempting, and mostly failing, to resist the draw of the heightened Alphas all around her.

It was illegal to use a Gifted power on a human.

A death sentence if the power could be used to inflict harm.

But she had been stealthily sipping away at the anxiety and exhaustion of her mates for weeks now, with none of them the wiser. She had learned how hard to push and exactly when to back off to remain undetected.

Callum Rowe was humiliated and furious. It was boiling and bubbling up within him, threatening to spill over and scald them all.

Tread carefully , she addressed the bond. He’s on edge, about to snap. He’s angry and humiliated that we ruined their plans.

None of them answered, but Mikel cut his mismatched eyes to her in a stern warning, softened slightly by the bolt of fear she felt from all of them. They were just worried she would be detected, but she had already withdrawn, quiet and light as a ghost, the taste of burning fury still on the tip of her tongue.

Isobel , Elijah’s steady, deep voice captured her attention, so clear that she knew he was talking only to her. Can you keep Moses and Theo calm without them noticing?

Done, she responded, curbing her curiosity. They hadn’t seemed to be concerned about Moses and Theodore going feral in a while, despite the stress they had been dealing with. She was sure that of all the Alphas, Elijah was the one who might have clued onto her subtle siphoning tricks. She often found him studying her when the others deescalated conflicts instead of surging, tearing into each other, or losing control. Something seemed different, now, but she wasn’t sure what.

Everyone at the table remained silent, locked in a battle of wills. Rowe was waiting for Kalen to speak, and finally, the large Alpha crossed his arms and relaxed back into his chair, regarding the Director with a calm that seemed to be a physical blanket over the entire room.

“We’re at your disposal, naturally,” Kalen drawled.

Rowe’s thick nose twitched, his brows inching together like thick caterpillars crawling across his forehead. He had a very elastic, expressive face.

“You’ve put us in an incredibly difficult situation,” he said. “Ironside isn’t just a silly little talent show. It’s an industry . Ironside is the Stone Dahlia; with the Dahlia, we can make or break the economy of more than one country. We could hand-pick the next American president if we were so inclined. The last four French presidents were chosen by us, just so that we could influence their foreign policies and conservation laws while we developed the new Ironside. We could start a fucking war just for the sake of it. While you’re frolicking around in this little playground we built you, we’re out there in the real world making real moves. So if you want us to change the rules for you, you must make it worth our while.”

Isobel stared at Rowe with a sinking feeling, realising the magnitude of what he was saying. He gestured to Tilda, who stepped away from the wall, pulled out the chair beside Gabriel, and sat down. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek knot, sharpening her features. She had a slender nose and a cool, blue stare. She was very beautiful, very composed—but there was a sliver of steel to it all. Even her sensuality seemed to have a knife’s edge, as she levelled them each with a searing, heavy-lidded stare.

Isobel felt a few of the Alphas’ eyes flicker her way as she gawked at Tilda. She rechecked her walls, realising she had been so focused on her Sigma power that she had accidentally opened herself to the bond. It was happening so much that she was starting to wonder if she had lost the ability to close herself off at all. They could feel everything she was feeling, including her stab of jealousy. She could too-easily picture this stunning, terrifying woman with Mikel. Challenging him. Pushing him. Teasing out that dominant side of him.

Isobel swallowed, fighting back a slow roll of nausea. This was too much. Rowe, Tilda, Yulia, and Frisk. These powerful, bloodthirsty, cunning people. At least Rowe wasn’t as intimidatingly beautiful as the women, but Isobel wished they would show how rotten they were on the inside. She hated their cruel perfection.

Tilda opened a folder and extracted a piece of paper, looking down the table at Kalen. “We will allow performance groups to compete and win the Ironside Show ?—”

Wait, what?

“But they will be managed by Orion—Ironside’s new recording label.”

Tilda paused, allowing that to sink in.

They want money , Elijah muttered through the bond. Money is the only thing that will make this right .

Seeing that nobody was going to interrupt her, Tilda continued. “All groups will be required to declare themselves and their specialisations in their third year, where they will sign provisional contracts with Orion. If they win, their provisional contract turns into a fifteen-year permanent management contract. While at Ironside, your stipends will remain the same, but after you graduate, Orion will take 90 per cent of your earnings for the entire fifteen-year term. The remaining 10 per cent will be split between the members of the group.”

Isobel blinked at the table. She was shocked that the officials still had the ability to shock her. She quickly did the math, realising they were offering less than 1 per cent to each person.

They have to discourage large groups from forming, Moses scoffed through the bond. He didn’t sound surprised.

We’ve officially made it too inconvenient for them to arrange our deaths, Mikel added, so they’re pivoting to the extreme alternative. They’re making use of us.

“There will be rules,” Tilda added, unaware of their internal discussions, “and that’s where I come in. As the Creative Director of Ironside, it’s my job to make sure we put on a good show no matter what’s going on behind the scenes. Eleven against one isn’t fair or entertaining odds, so we’ll do our best on the show to challenge your group dynamics to make groups look more difficult and annoying than convenient, and we expect you to play along. For the privilege of having a group application approved in the third year, all groups will be tested and provoked to our fullest ability to prove to the viewers that we aren’t playing favourites or giving you a leg up.”

Tilda swept her eyes over them in a bored sort of way. “Furthermore,” she said, this time not waiting to see if they had any objections, “there will be a blanket no-fraternisation rule for all groups. Orion expects 100 per cent of your focus, effort, and determination. No dating within the group and no dating outside of the group. If you want it easy, you can compete in this game the way it was intended. If you want it your way, you’ll have to prove you want it; you’ll have to give us your all. Your time, your talents, your damn souls.”

A no-fraternisation rule? They were pretending not to know about the bond, and Isobel couldn’t fathom why.

“The group already has a management contract,” Kalen said, though his tone wasn’t challenging. He tilted his head at Tilda before shifting his gaze back to Rowe, waiting for one of them to explain.

“If groups would like to recruit other Gifted as producers, choreographers, or songwriters, they will be permitted to make that choice, as long as those Gifted are already at Ironside,” Tilda answered. Her cool blue eyes settled on Mikel for the briefest moment, her expression utterly neutral, before she returned her attention to Kalen. She ignored everyone else. “Since you and Mikel Easton have proven to be such valuable talent-makers, we have decided to utilise those special skills with our other groups. Each group is being assigned an Orion manager, and you will make yourselves available to the managers to consult as needed on all groups.”

“And when our group graduates?” Kalen asked plainly.

“If you can make them that famous despite everything we throw at you,” Rowe answered, eyes hard, “you can leave with them. You’ll be permitted to sign roles as producers or assistant managers under the management of your Orion-appointed representative. You will be subject to the same fifteen-year term and share in the same 10 per cent of earnings.”

Isobel would be nearing forty by the time their permanent management contract with Orion ran out. Ironside was offering to rob them of their earnings for the highest earning years of their lives.

“Additionally,” Yulia added, immediately putting Isobel even further on edge, “your Stone Dahlia contracts have been amended. Since you have proven yourselves to be so beloved by the public, we would like to capitalise on that interest. Miss Carter,” she was the first of the women to meet Isobel’s eyes, “you will be moved to the main stage in the Dahlia Room, which only our most important VIPs have access to. Your performances must be provocative and entertaining, sensual but tasteful—you will be marketed as an untouchable prize. The Princess of Ironside. Everyone’s darling, alluring little sister?—”

That’s not messed up at all , Moses grumbled through the bond.

Yulia finished, “We can hire a professional to plan and direct your performances?—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Isobel interrupted, trying to mimic Elijah’s cool, unbothered expression. She already knew she didn’t have a choice, so there wasn’t any point in putting up a fight. If she wanted to keep some control, she needed to step up now, before they assumed she couldn’t think and speak for herself.

“Very well.” Yulia arched a brow at her, and Isobel tested the other woman with her Sigma power, tasting the spike of frustration from Yulia as she seemed to fail to read anything in Isobel’s expression. “You will need to run your ideas by Cesar Cooper—he will either approve or reject your concepts and better guide you on our performance expectations.”

“What’s Cooper’s role in all of this?” Kalen asked, a slightly darker note in his voice. He seemed to be the only one speaking, the others sitting back and allowing him to take the lead.

“Cesar Cooper will be your Orion-appointed manager and liaison,” Rowe answered. “He will manage your group and your performances and negotiate with the record label on your behalf.”

“You mentioned that all of our contracts had been adjusted.” Kalen switched his attention to Yulia, showing no reaction to what Rowe had said.

“You’ve all been transferred to floater contracts.” Yulia shifted behind the table, watching Kalen. “But only for two hours a week while Carter is dancing.”

“And the rest of the time?” Kalen pressed, thick arms folding tightly across his broad chest.

“All eleven of you will serve in our Icon Cafe. We want you there every Saturday morning until midday. It’s a room for the wealthiest people in the country—and abroad, naturally—to book time with their favourite Icons. You’ll be required to pour their drinks, serve them food, compliment them, ask them polite questions that don’t broach their privacy, and pay them special romantic attention. Your clients will be international, so there’s no need to learn French.”

“It’s illegal to—” Kalen, began, but Rowe cut across him.

“We aren’t asking you to fuck them, West.” He rolled his eyes like Kalen’s almost-objection was beyond ridiculous. “At most, you’ll be asked for a hug or to put your arm around them for a photo. It’s within our interest to keep you all shining, pure, and untouchable. It makes the clientele want you even more. The Icon Cafe is the gold standard of Icon interaction, and you’ll be expected to represent the grace and humility of our Ironside Gifted during your shift. Nothing less will be tolerated.”

We can’t pull Oscar from fights, Elijah’s voice echoed into her mind.

He needs the outlet, Mikel agreed. I was hoping to train Niko, Theo, and Moses to get them in there too.

“Oscar Sato and Mikel Easton earn a significant amount of money from their fights,” Kalen addressed Rowe, subtly grinding his teeth together, his jaw flexing. “Far more than they can get from a floater contract.”

“Very well.” Rowe waved a large hand. “Whoever wants to fight can apply, but they must perform at the same time as Carter. Everything you do from now on, you do as a group, that includes time spent in the Dahlia.”

Kalen’s jaw looked like it was about to crack, but after a moment, he rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded, forcing his pretend calm to roll over the table again. “While we’re negotiating?—”

“This is not—” Rowe started, but Kalen didn’t break stride.

“—we want the cameras out of the Dorm A bedrooms.”

Rowe scoffed but didn’t immediately object, and Kalen only waited a moment to continue.

“Historically, Dorm A bedrooms have been camera-free, and my Alphas are uneasy with the change. You want them to train harder and give more than any other student, so in return, I’d like you to give them back a modicum of privacy while they’re sleeping. You have cameras in all the hallways and all around the dorm so it’s not like they’ll be sneaking other people into their beds. I just want them to be able to relax for the few hours they have every night to themselves. If you give them that, they’ll work harder for you. Isobel will, as well. It was unfair to make her work her ass off for a private room in Dorm A only to make it public the day she finally moved in.”

Rowe actually seemed to be considering it as he leaned back in his chair and regarded Kalen. He glanced over at Tilda, who gave a short nod, and then sighed. “Fine. If you sign the contracts, all recording devices will be removed from inside the bedrooms only.”

Kalen’s expression wasn’t victorious. “How long do we have to think about this?”

Rowe smiled unkindly. “As you know, your Stone Dahlia contracts can be amended at any time. That’s already done. But if you’re referring to?—”

“I am,” Kalen said.

“Then we’ll give you an hour.” Rowe stood, straightening out his jacket. “Olivia, leave them the contracts.”

Frisk nodded, dropping a pile of booklets beside the box of microphones, before opening the door for Rowe, who paused in the doorway, glancing back at the Alphas and Isobel.

“As I said,” Rowe’s features tightened, “you accept this deal, or you’ll be wired up at all times, in all areas of the academy. It’s your choice.”

He left the room, Frisk following him. Tilda and Yulia exited without a second glance, and then the two EDGC men returned carrying trays of coffee and several brown takeout bags. As soon as the scent of pastry filled the room, Isobel’s stomach grumbled loudly. She was shocked and scared, devastated by the options set out before them, but apparently, her stomach didn’t care.

The men set everything onto the table as Elijah and Gabriel reached for the stack of notebooks, grabbing one each and sliding two copies down the table to Kalen and Mikel. The rest of them were silent as Isobel and Cian began dividing up the coffees and croissants.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, catching the eye of the armed man who had brought in the food.

He paused, not expecting her to try to talk to him. He dipped his head in a short nod before averting his attention to the wall.

Isobel devoured her croissant and downed half her coffee, eyeing Niko, who was only pushing his pastry around on a paper plate while he stared at Gabriel and Elijah, flicking through the pages of the unbelievably thick contract as fast as they could, while wincing at the scalding coffee they kept sipping without tearing their eyes from the pages.

After a few minutes, Niko seemed to register the food in front of him and somehow stuffed it into his mouth in three bites, inhaling it the way he used to eat food. It made Isobel want to cry, and several eyes flicked to her face. She quickly reached for one of the contracts to distract herself, but the language was far too technical for her to understand, and she eventually closed the pages, feeling defeated.

“Do we really have a choice here?” she asked, lifting her eyes to Kilian sitting directly opposite her.

He shook his head, answering with the perfect amount of defeat and hope to colour his voice, putting on a performance for however the officials had chosen to monitor them during their hour of “decision making.” Better to be safe than sorry.

“Not really.” He shrugged delicately, pale eyes dropping back to the table. “They’re right—the investors in this show aren’t going to allow something like this unless it benefits them. They can’t only allow us to form a group without offering the same recourse for others, but they also need to consider measures to control the group sizes to keep the show competitive and entertaining. Students may consider forming a group now, but they might decide against it for the sake of the money. If they win as a single Icon, they have the freedom of their own career and get to keep all their earnings. If they win as a group, they only get their share of 10 per cent and are still owned by Ironside for another fifteen years. The fans and other students will probably consider this a fair trade-off since it would be easier for a group to win due to the combined popularity of all the members.”

“You’re right,” Theodore muttered, tipping his head back to sigh at the ceiling. “And it’s in our Ironside contracts that the level of surveillance can be increased or decreased at any time without notice. They’re even technically allowed to put cameras in the bathrooms. They could realistically make it very unappealing for us to not sign these contracts. We could lose all privacy.”

And, he added, through the bond, if we take this option away from them, they will probably try to kill us again. They don’t have many avenues here . Turning ourselves into a money-making machine for them might be the only way to ensure our safety.

Isobel nodded at the table, and they fell back into silence, finishing their coffees and food as they waited. Mikel absently nudged his croissant over to Niko, who inhaled it without thought.

Isobel was going to grow obsessed with watching him eat.

“It’s comprehensive,” Elijah finally said, after their hour was almost up. He closed the booklet and tossed it back into the middle of the table, pinching the bridge of his nose after pulling off his glasses. “They will own us, but they’re at least giving us a modicum of creative freedom. They’re entitled to suggest changes in our performances and songs and to impose deadlines and mandatory practice time on us, but we can come up with our own songs and choreography.”

The others set down their booklets, waiting for what else Elijah had to say, since he seemed to be pausing only to consider his next words.

“The … lifestyle restrictions might be more of a challenge,” he allowed, making eye contact with Kalen and Mikel, passing them some sort of unspoken message. “No fraternisation between members or outside of the group. No marriages or engagements until the end of the fifteen-year contract period. No pregnancies for the contract term—if anyone comes forward saying that one of us got them pregnant, or if Isobel gets pregnant by someone, then the entire group will be dropped by the label, and each member will be sent back to their respective settlements until the end of the contract term. After that time, we will be free to live as citizens of the United States, but we won’t have any money and our careers will be dead.”

Isobel blinked at his impassive, handsome face. “Why?” she blurted.

“I assume they want us in peak performance condition, untethered and unburdened by family commitments until the end of our contract term,” Elijah answered. “They want us to make as much money as possible while we’re tied to their label—they want our full commitment, attention, and energy.”

“Is that all?” Moses asked, brows drawn low, lips pressed tightly together, his long eyelashes lowered to conceal what Isobel was sure would be a stormy expression.

“No,” Elijah sighed out. “There’s more. There are weight and body fat ratio requirements. We have to record our data and send it to Cooper, who is allowed to tell us to lose weight, change our diet, or change our exercise regimes to reach specific goals. And,” he continued before any of them could respond properly, “there’s a zero-tolerance drug policy, a two-drink alcohol policy, and you must apply to Cooper for permission for any body modifications such as piercings, tattoos, or significant hairstyle changes.”

“Jesus—” Cian cut himself off on a heavy breath, shoving his hands through his hair, pulling the golden strands out of the loose bun they had been swept into. “Okay. What else?” He tugged out a silk hair tie that looked like Isobel’s and retied his hair.

“We have to produce a demo album before the end of year three?—”

“ Before we graduate?” Kilian interrupted, frowning.

“Year three ,” Elijah emphasised. “ This year. If they don’t like your demo album, they can disband your group. At the end of the day, they only want groups who will earn them money.”

“How the fuck are we going to produce an entire demo album before the end of the year?” Moses growled, thumping his palm onto the table. “Between practice and classes during the week, Friday evenings at Ironside Row, Friday nights in the Stone Dahlia, and Saturdays at the Icon Cafe, we aren’t even going to have time to sleep.”

The others grumbled their agreement.

“It’s doable,” Kalen mused. “We can make it happen. They’re making this all seem impossible for a reason—to dissuade people from choosing this option and to filter out anyone who thinks this might be an easy road to the finish line.”

“Why are we even discussing this if we don’t have a choice?” Niko grumbled, crossing his muscled arms tightly over his chest, hazel eyes scanning the armed men and women silently lining the edges of the conference room, acting like they couldn’t even hear the discussion happening before them.

Technically, they did have a choice. On paper , they could compete as individuals and give up the remaining vestiges of their privacy for a shot at ultimate freedom and earning potential, or they could give up their earnings and freedom for fifteen years after they graduate for a shot at staying together as a group in the outside world.

But that was only on paper.

The officials were well aware that Isobel and the Alphas were bonded despite everyone pretending it was still a secret. In reality, this truly was their only safe option.

If they walked out of the room with microphones strapped to their bodies, it would only be a matter of time before the officials added cameras to their closets and bathrooms. They would find a way to expose the bond and destabilise their fanbase until the group lost the support of the public and, by extension, their untouchable status.

Or they would just organise another accident and make a martyr out of their golden boy, Theodore Kane.

There was no option.

Elijah sighed, reaching for a pen.