5. Cayenne
Chapter 5
Cayenne
Turns out getting started immediately translates to Ryker calling Quinn about a safe room, because apparently these guys value my skin more than my sanity.
Who knew?
It’s been two long, suffocating days of nothing but walls and worry and waiting. No paint to brighten the sterile basement. No tech to check the USB drive that burns like a live wire in my memory. Just the growing knot in my gut that someone out there knows enough about me to slip past Quinn’s defenses and erase my digital footprint like I never existed.
I don’t just dislike that—I hate it. Hate being hunted. Hate being helpless. Hate that someone else is controlling the game.
After my second shower of the day—because apparently boredom breeds obsessive hygiene—I pull on leggings and an oversized sweater that probably belonged to one of the guys before Theo’s sticky fingers got to it. The small kitchen in my basement domain has been mysteriously restocking itself—I’d blame fairies if I didn’t know better.
“Hey beautiful.”
The voice stops me short. Theo leans against the counter like sin made flesh, and suddenly breathing becomes a conscious effort. I get it now—why alphas go feral for omegas. Why they lose their minds over a single scent.
He’s wearing leather pants that sit criminally low on slim hips, showing off lines I want to trace with my tongue. His shirt seems to have lost its buttons somewhere between design and execution, leaving a strip of skin visible from throat to navel. When I finally drag my eyes up to his face, I find him watching me through thick lashes, subtle liner making his dark eyes even more dangerous.
And he’s turning a key over in his hands like it holds secrets.
“You look like you’re up to no good.” I step closer, still learning the dance of pack dynamics, of when to touch and when to hold back. My fingers itch to explore all that exposed skin, but something in his expression makes me wait.
“I am.” He catches my hips, pulling me closer until my palms land on his warm chest. The contact sends electricity through my nerve endings.
“Tell me more.” I breathe him in—night-blooming jasmine and aged sheet music and something darker underneath.
“I thought you and I might go on an adventure.” His voice drops low, conspiratorial.
“I’m getting the vibe this is a no-no?” I fiddle with his open shirt, suddenly uncertain. Sneaking out with Finn had felt natural, inevitable. But Theo? The pack’s precious omega? That feels like playing with fire in a whole different way.
“Ryker has us all on lockdown for many, many reasons.” His fingers trail up my neck, a deliberate distraction that works embarrassingly well. The touch feels calculated, like he came armed with omega allure because he wasn’t sure I’d agree otherwise. It should bother me. Instead, it makes something warm curl in my stomach.
“But Sanctuary called,” he continues, still playing me like one of his instruments, “and there’s an issue only I can address.”
“Okay?” I make it a question, a prompt for more. Because if he’s willing to risk Ryker’s wrath—if he’s trying this hard to convince me—it has to be important. And that matters. He matters. Too much for me to carelessly risk him in one of my chaos-fueled adventures.
Look at me, actually growing as a person. At least in my head.
“Sanctuary isn’t just a club.” His fingers continue their maddening path along my neck, and I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it anymore. The seduction has become genuine concern. “It’s a literal sanctuary.”
My jaw drops. “Wait.”
His lips curve into something sadder than his earlier smirk. “Omega Guardians is amazing, and I love the work Willow does, but there are still omegas who don’t trust the system. Who never will.”
“Can’t say I blame them for that.” The words come out rougher than intended, memories of Aria’s bruises flashing behind my eyes.
“Sanctuary existed before Omega Guardians. Five years now.” Something in the way he says it makes my stomach drop. “We haven’t had an omega seeking sanctuary in a while.”
I lick suddenly dry lips. “Explain.”
“Sometimes omegas get placed in packs that aren’t good for them.” His eyes go distant, seeing ghosts I can’t. “And they do everything they can to get to me.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t have to. My mind fills in the blanks with images of Aria, beaten and broken, clinging to life by threads I wasn’t sure would hold. Some stories don’t need words to be understood.
“How do we get out?” The question comes without hesitation, because some choices aren’t really choices at all.
He grabs the key again, holding it up like an offering. “It’s my mansion.” Sadness colors his voice. “I love my pack. I do. But there are some secrets even I keep from them.”
He tugs me into the walk-in closet that the pack has been slowly filling with clothes—their way of marking me as theirs without saying it. I’m about to make a joke about omega seduction techniques when he pushes aside hangers to reveal what looks like a breaker box.
Except it’s not.
“Stop it.” My jaw hits the floor as he flips it open to reveal a panel of buttons. “That’s some 007 bullshit.”
His laugh echoes as he presses one, and the back wall—the one I’ve been staring at for two weeks—slides open like every spy movie cliché come to life. A soft light illuminates stone steps leading down into darkness.
“If you’d known that was there...” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.
“I’d have been gone that first week,” I admit, following him down the steps. “Fair enough. But why keep this from Ryker?”
His hand finds mine in the growing darkness, warm and sure. Light flares as he triggers wall-mounted torches, turning what should be an ominous tunnel into something almost beautiful.
“I wish I could tell you.” His voice carries notes of old pain. “You’re the only one who knows.”
“I wish I felt honored by that.” Because I don’t. It feels heavy, this secret. Important in ways I’m not sure I’m ready for.
His fingers squeeze mine. “I don’t sneak out often. Because it is dangerous. I’ve seen how dangerous it is, and right now...” He trails off, but I hear what he’s not saying. Right now, with someone hunting me, with Sterling Labs in play, everything is more dangerous.
“You only sneak out when an omega needs you.” The realization settles like lead in my stomach.
“That’s why I told you.” The torchlight catches his face, highlighting planes and shadows that make him look older. Harder. “I suspect Ryker suspects. But he’s never said anything.”
“He loves you.”
“I love him too.” Simple truth, complicated implications. “But the man is overprotective to a fault. I wasn’t made to exist locked up.” Righteousness floods his voice, reminding me that for all his artistic soul, Theo has steel in his spine.
The tunnel stretches ahead, our footsteps echoing off stone walls that probably have stories of their own to tell. Stories of omegas fleeing in the night, of sanctuary sought and found.
“Almost halfway there,” he says as wind whips around us, carrying the promise of freedom. “Then I have a car stashed.”
“You and Finn both.” I can’t help but laugh, even as something clicks into place. “You all work so well together, but there are pieces you keep from each other. Parts you hold back.”
“Observant little minx.” His smile carries shadows and light both. “That’s why we need you.”
“No pressure or anything.” But my chest feels tight with the trust he’s placing in me. With the weight of secrets I’m still keeping myself.
The car appears at the top of a small hill, white rag hanging from the window like a surrender flag. It’s almost poetic—this secret lifeline masquerading as something broken down and abandoned.
“You know,” I say as Theo opens the creaky door for me, “most omegas would have an alpha escort for this kind of mission.”
His smile carries edges. “Most omegas aren’t me.” He slides into the driver’s seat with that artistic grace that makes everything look like a performance. “Besides, I have you.”
The simple trust in those words hits harder than it should. Because he’s right—I might be just a beta, but I’d tear apart anyone who tried to hurt him. The realization should terrify me, this bone-deep protectiveness I’m developing for all of them.
“Tell me about the omega,” I prompt as we pull away, trying to focus on the immediate problem rather than the growing complexity of pack bonds I’m not supposed to feel.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “They didn’t say much. Just that she was scared. Meek.” His voice catches. “Bloody.”
The word drops like a stone into my stomach, dragging up memories I’ve tried to bury. Aria, collapsed on my doorstep in the rain. The way her blood had turned the puddles pink. How small she’d looked in that hospital bed.
Theo’s hand finds mine across the console, like he can sense where my thoughts have gone. “Hey. We’re going to help her. Like you helped Aria.”
“You know about that?”
“Finn has files.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “Plus, you get this look sometimes. When omegas are mentioned. Like you’re seeing ghosts.”
“Some ghosts don’t stay buried.” But I squeeze his hand, grateful for the anchor.
The city blurs past in smears of neon and shadow, each streetlight marking time like a countdown. My fingers drum against my thigh, anxiety building with every mile that takes us further from pack protection. Theo drives with precise grace, but I catch the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes check the rearview mirror more often than necessary. Sanctuary materializes out of the industrial wasteland like a fever dream—all brick and shadow and promised salvation. But promises, I’m learning, often come with prices none of us are ready to pay.
The bouncer nods to Theo, but his eyes linger on me. Assessing. Measuring. Deciding if I’m worthy of the trust being placed in me.
Bass pounds through the main club like a heartbeat, bodies moving in synthetic fog and strobing lights. But Theo leads us past all that, down a corridor where the music begins to fade, replaced by something heavier—expectation, maybe. Or dread. Each step takes us further from the performance of normalcy above, until he’s entering a code into a security panel with fingers that don’t quite shake. The door opens on silence so complete it feels like pressure against my eardrums. Here, in this sanctuary within Sanctuary, there’s no pretense. No performance. Just truth, raw and waiting, in all its terrible glory.
The silence hits like a physical thing as we step through. A woman jumps up from her seat, magazine falling forgotten to the floor.
“Theo, thank the gods.” Relief floods her face before worry creeps back in. “It’s bad. She’s almost inconsolable.”
Something in her tone makes my skin prickle. Makes me think of laboratories and missing data and the growing certainty that whatever’s happening is bigger than any of us realized.
Theo’s hand tightens on mine. “We’re here now. Let us help.”
Us. Not him. Us.
The weight of his trust sits heavy on my shoulders as we follow the woman deeper into Sanctuary’s secrets. Whatever we find, whatever comes next, I won’t let him face it alone.
Even if it means facing some ghosts of my own.
The back room feels too small for the amount of pain it contains. The omega sits huddled in a corner, wrapped in a blanket that can’t hide the bruises on her face or the way she flinches at our approach.
The girl huddles deeper into herself, face still rounded with youth—nineteen at most. Something twists beneath my ribs as Theo approaches her, his movements slow and deliberate, hands displayed palm-forward like approaching a wounded animal. He begins humming—something soft and sweet that seems to fill the air with calm.
“I’m Theo,” he says, voice gentle in a way that reminds me why omegas seek him out specifically. “This is Cayenne. You’re safe here.”
The girl’s eyes dart between us, landing on me with sudden intensity. “You’re her. The beta they’re looking for.”
My spine stiffens vertebra by vertebra, a cold current replacing marrow. Beside me, Theo freezes mid-breath.
“What do you mean?” I keep my voice steady despite the dread building in my gut.
“At the facility. Sterling Labs.” The name turns my blood to ice even before she continues, fingers clutching the blanket so tight her knuckles go white. “They talk about you. All the time. The beta who got too close.” Her eyes take on a glazed look, like she’s seeing past us into memories she can’t escape. “Who found out about the virus. About what they’re doing to all of us.”
Each word falls like a stone into the growing pit in my stomach, because I recognize that look. It’s the same one I see in the mirror when I think about that USB drive, about what I found in their systems.
“All of us?” The question barely makes it past my tight throat.
“Betas, omegas, it doesn’t matter.” Her laugh carries edges sharp enough to cut. “We’re all just test subjects to them. But betas...” She looks at me with something like pity. “Betas are special. Because you can’t be controlled like omegas. Can’t be dominated like alphas. You’re the wild card they need to eliminate.”
“How did you escape?” Theo asks, but I already know. Already see where this is going.
She meets my eyes, and the fear there makes my blood run cold. “They let me. Said to find Sanctuary. To tell you what they can do. What they will do.” Tears spill down her cheeks. “If the beta who knows too much doesn’t come willingly.”
The puzzle assembles itself in my mind, each fragment locking into position with an almost audible click.
The bruises on her skin.
The precision of her message.
The ease of her escape.
Not salvation—bait. And I’ve swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.