14. Retrieval By Any Means
14
RETRIEVAL BY ANY MEANS
~VALE~
T he infiltration begins like a well-choreographed dance – fifteen alphas moving as one through Ravenscroft's underground passages.
On my monitors, I track their heat signatures as each subdivision splits off to their designated entry points with practiced precision. The synchronization is perfect, each unit moving exactly as planned.
For a moment, everything seems aligned.
The operation we've spent weeks preparing for unfolds with military precision. Even the facility's security patterns remain unchanged, guards moving in their predictable routes, oblivious to the predators about to tear their world apart.
Then my monitor chimes with a discrete notification.
The sound is barely audible, but it sends ice through my veins.
Because my systems don't generate notifications during active operations – not unless something has breached my carefully constructed security protocols.
A frown creases my face as I immediately recognize signs of intrusion. My fingers fly across the keyboard, initiating emergency protocols and strengthening firewalls. Someone's trying to breach my systems – someone good enough to get past my initial defenses.
"Not today," I mutter, starting the process of backing up critical data to my secondary device while simultaneously wiping the primary.
Years of experience have taught me to prepare for exactly this kind of situation. Every piece of vital intelligence, every scrap of data that could compromise our mission or our people – all of it begins transferring to secure storage.
But before I can complete the security measures, a coded message appears on my screen:
Your Omega dances with death. The shadows sing funeral hymns.
The cryptic words make no sense at first.
I'm too busy trying to regain control of my system, watching as unknown protocols override my commands with frightening efficiency. Whoever's doing this isn't just good – they're operating on a level I've rarely encountered.
Then my main screen fills with surveillance footage, and my heart nearly stops.
A tall room, rapidly filling with water.
Four figures floating near the ceiling, fighting for survival. But it's one particular form that draws my attention – one familiar figure that makes my world tilt on its axis.
I'd know her anywhere.
The omega from the valley.
The one who smelled of my grandmother's cupcakes.
The one whose memory taunted me right before this very mission.
Nyx.
She floats motionless, face-up in the rising water, and something primal inside me roars to life. The sight of her unconscious, in danger, potentially dying – it triggers every protective Alpha instinct I've ever possessed.
My hand moves unconsciously toward the injector beside my laptop, fingers trembling with the need to act, to move, to save what’s ours.
The cost of using it – the acceleration of my condition, the potential loss of months or years of life – seems insignificant compared to watching her die.
Because this isn't just any omega in danger.
This is her.
The one I let get away once before.
And now I'm watching through a screen as death reaches for her again.
My legs spasm violently, as if my body itself protests its inability to act. The pain is familiar but somehow sharper now, weighted with the agony of forced inaction while she's in danger.
I force my attention back to the technical aspects, trying to trace the source of the intrusion. The code is unlike anything I've seen – it moves like something alive, adapting to my countermeasures faster than should be possible.
But I can't focus properly.
Not with her floating there, not with death reaching for her with watery fingers. The memory of her scent – that perfect blend of childhood magic and pure possibility – haunts me more powerfully than ever.
My fingers move across the keyboard with increasing urgency, trying to regain control of my systems. I need to alert the teams, to redirect them to this new threat. But the intrusion is too thorough, too precise .
Every attempt to send messages fails, every effort to regain control is countered with frightening efficiency.
I’m going to have to radio in if I can’t take control.
The injector catches the low light of my monitors, tempting me with its promise of temporary mobility, like a golden ticket that can solve everything in this shrilled moment of scrutiny.
One shot. One chance to be what I used to be. To run to her rescue like I should have years ago.
But Atlas's words echo in my mind:
"I can't let you be captured. They'd torture you, probably kill you, and I won't watch you die."
My hands clench into fists as I watch the water rise higher in that distant room. The rational part of my mind knows I can't save her – not physically, not without risking everything.
But the alpha in me, the protector I used to be, screams in rage at my helplessness.
I try another approach to regaining control of my systems, but whoever's behind this intrusion seems to anticipate my every move. It's like they know my protocols, understand my methods, or I dare admit they can predict my strategies.
The footage continues playing, showing every detail of her peril with cruel clarity. I watch as she regains consciousness, another Omega of dark skin shaking her in desperation which triggers her wakefulness.
Relief rushes through me as I see her eyes blink in haste as realization and shock rushes through her facial features. Despite the distance from the camera lens and where they are, the sight immediately tames my wild beating heart so I can attempt to think straight.
Watching her swiftly dive into action leaves me in awe; her strength, even in such dire circumstances, takes my breath away.
But it's not enough.
The water keeps rising, and I remain trapped in my mobile command center, unable to help, let alone save her from the predicament at hand.
The guilt of that long-ago day in the valley crashes back full force. I'd told myself I was following protocol, being professional, doing what was necessary. But the truth was simpler and more damning:
I'd been a coward.
I'd let fear – of attachment, of vulnerability, of what it might mean to follow my instinct s – stop me from doing what I knew was right.
Now, years later, I'm watching the consequences of that cowardice play out on my screens.
If I can just alert the teams, just redirect them to her location...
The code dances across my screen, beautiful and deadly in its complexity. Whoever created this isn't just trying to block me – they're trying to show me something. The footage keeps playing, keeps forcing me to watch as she and the others fight for survival.
And suddenly I understand.
This isn't just an attack on my systems.
It's a message.
A challenge.
A test of what I'm willing to risk to save her.
My hand closes around the injector as I make my decision. Because some choices aren't about logic or protocol or even survival.
Sometimes they're about redemption.
Second chances…
About finally doing what you should have done years ago.
Hold on, Nyx.
I won't fail you again.
The injector feels warm in my palm as I prepare to risk everything for one more chance to be the alpha I used to be.
The alpha I should have been that day in the valley.
Because some debts can only be paid in person.
Some mistakes only corrected through direct action.
And, Nyx, the Omega I’m desperate to claim for me and my pack, is worth risking everything to save.
"Parazodiac Nexus, status check," I say into the intercom, only to be met with crackling static. My heart rate kicks up as I try again, adjusting frequencies with trembling fingers.
"Vale?" Atlas's voice finally breaks through, heavy with concern. "Everything alright?"
I try to respond, but the static intensifies, drowning out my words. The intrusion in my systems is more thorough than I initially thought, compromising even our basic communications.
But I'm not out of options yet.
Reaching under my desk, I pull out a backup phone — old technology, running on a separate network with its own antenna array. It's not connected to our main systems, which makes it both more primitive and more reliable in situations like this.
I dial Kieran's number, knowing he's the only one who consistently carries the matching device. Old habits from his military days — always have a backup plan for your backup plan.
He answers on the first ring.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone's in our systems," I say quickly, watching as more code dances across my screens. "But it's strange…like they're trying to help rather than hinder. But that's not our biggest problem right now."
Are they friends or foes? I’m not sure we’re going to find out now with this mission underway, but I have to keep an eye out.
"Which unit are you with?" I ask, already strapping on my tactical gear. The weight of the guns against my chest is familiar, and comforting, even as my legs protest every movement.
"Subdivision D," Dante's voice comes through. "B and C are setting up on the east side."
My fingers fly across the keyboard, bringing up multiple screens showing different angles of the facility. The footage of the flooding room remains central, a constant reminder of what's at stake.
"We've got our target Omegas trapped in a containment chamber," I explain, watching the water level rise with terrifying speed. "Room's almost completely flooded. They're going to go under any minute. We need one division to redirect there immediately while the others trigger the alarms for distraction."
"We can get there fastest," Subdivision D's leader cuts in. I already got video footage of them as they’re pausing in a sector, noticing that alarms have been set off but the opposing units are going down a different route. "We're closest to that sector."
Quickly scanning the blueprints, I can see Division D’s right about the closeness. Technically speaking, they’re also the fastest when you compare age gaps.
Even if I don’t want to admit my pack and I are a bit “old” when you acknowledge OP standards.
I see Kieran about to argue with the visible image of him opening his mouth — our history with D's unit isn't exactly friendly — but I cut him off.
"D takes point on the rescue. Move now."
The sound of them splitting up comes through the line, footsteps echoing as they head in different directions.
"Vale," Kieran's voice carries a warning note. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking..."
I can tell he’s worried D will get to what’s ours first.
To Nyx..
"I'm a step ahead," I tell him, studying the schematics of the containment room. "There might be a way to get them out before D even reaches them. They’re just backup just in case any Omegas get left behind."
"Explain," Atlas commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I pull up the detailed view of the chamber's upper section. "There's a counterweight system…some kind of metal sphere suspended near the ceiling. If I can trigger the release mechanism..."
"A suspended weight?" Atlas asks skeptically. "How would that help?"
"It's not just about dropping it," I explain, calculations running through my head. "The mounting system is designed like a pendulum. If I time it right, I can make it swing into that reinforced glass panel on the far wall. The impact should shatter it, create an escape route."
"Through water that dense?" Atlas sounds doubtful. "The resistance would slow it too much."
"Not with this setup," I counter, confidence growing as I study the mechanics. "The ball is massive, and the drop height is significant. Even accounting for water resistance, the pendulum motion should generate enough force for impact before it loses momentum. Basic physics…the initial energy from the drop converts to kinetic energy in the swing."
"What if it hits them?" Dante asks, voicing the concern we're all thinking. "A metal ball that size would crush them on impact."
I grip the edge of my desk, hating the truth I have to speak.
"It's a possibility. But right now they're about to drown in that chamber. At least with the ball breaking the glass, they'll drop into the tunnel system below."
"Which branches only two ways," Kieran adds, understanding my logic. "Much easier to extract them from there than a high-rise room that might be blocked or completely submerged."
A moment of heavy silence follows as they process the brutal mathematics of survival we're forced to calculate.
"Do it," Atlas finally commands. "Sometimes the only choice is choosing the lesser evil."
"Agreed," Dante says grimly. "Better a chance than no chance at all."
"Stay in position," Kieran reminds them. "We'll execute from here."
"Understood, but—" I break off, leaning closer to my screen as something catches my eye. The camera feed shows Nyx struggling with another omega, their forms barely visible through the rising water.
"What's wrong?" Atlas demands.
"Something's happening up there," I try to zoom in, but the camera image distorts, static cutting through as water begins to submerge it. "Damn it!"
"Vale?"
"We need to move now," I tell them, watching the feed deteriorate. "Start taking out their agents. I'll work on getting communications back and update you on any changes."
"Going ghost," Kieran confirms. "We'll rendezvous at the van."
"Copy that. Be careful."
The line goes dead, leaving me alone with my screens and the weight of what I'm about to do. The injector feels heavy in my hand as I remove the safety cap, the needle glinting under harsh monitor light.
No turning back now.
I drive the needle into my thigh, gritting my teeth against the immediate burning sensation. My hand grips the desk edge hard enough to make the metal groan as I slowly depress the plunger, forcing the experimental compound into my system.
The pain is exquisite – like liquid fire replacing my blood. I fight to stay upright, to keep breathing through the transformation I know is coming. Every nerve ending screams as the drug begins its work, rewriting my body's limitations.
For sixty eternal seconds, I exist in pure agony.
Then, like a switch being flipped, energy explodes through my system.
My leg kicks out involuntarily, and for the first time in years, I feel no pain.
No weakness.
No limitation.
No chains of mortality holding me back.
The empty injector clatters across the floor as I stand, testing muscles that haven't properly worked in too long. Everything feels electric, charged with potential and power I'd almost forgotten I possessed.
I reach for the mask I haven't worn since my condition first manifested – matte black with glowing blue X's where eyes should be. It was designed to be intimidating, to make enemies hesitate just long enough to give me an advantage.
Looking at it now, seeing my reflection in those luminous X's, I'm reminded of who I used to be. Who I can be again, if only for a short time.
"Show time," I whisper, fitting the mask into place.
The familiar weight settles against my face like greeting an old friend. Through its enhanced vision, the world takes on sharper edges, a clearer purpose. The mask's built-in systems sync with my remaining functional monitors, feeding me tactical data and environmental readings.
I know the cost of what I'm doing. Know that using this drug might steal years from my already shortened life. Know that the pain when it wears off will be beyond anything I've experienced yet.
But watching Nyx fight for survival in that flooding chamber, remembering how I failed her once before – no price seems too high to pay for a chance at redemption.
The drug surges through my system, making me feel invincible. Unstoppable. Like the alpha I used to be before the disease started stealing my future one nerve ending at a time.
I check my weapons one final time, muscle memory making the movements fluid despite years of disuse. Everything is exactly where it should be, ready for whatever chaos awaits outside my modified van.
Through my mask's display, I watch the camera feed from the flooding chamber continue to deteriorate. But I've seen enough to know where I'm going, and what I need to do.
Hold on, Nyx.
The drug makes me feel like I could tear through walls with my bare hands, but I force myself to think tactically. To remember that even temporary invincibility needs to be wielded with precision.
I have maybe one hour before the compound starts to break down. One solid hour to find her…to save her, and get us both out alive.
After that...
I'll pay whatever price my body demands.
Face whatever acceleration of my condition this choice brings.
But right now, in this moment, I am once again the alpha I was meant to be. The protector I failed to be that day in the valley.
And nothing will stop me from reaching her.
"I'm coming, Nyx," I whisper to my empty van, the words carrying the weight of promise. "Just hold on a little longer."
The mask's X's pulse with cold blue light as I prepare to enter the field for the first time in years. To become again what disease tried to take from me.
Mission execute.