14. Cayenne
Chapter 14
Cayenne
Sometimes the hardest fights aren’t the ones that need code and cunning. They’re the ones that require you to move when your body feels like lead, when every thought spirals into darker corners of what-ifs and should-haves.
I sit beside my bed, legs stretched out toward the door that leads to a yard I can barely see through stacks of boxes and totes. All my belongings, still unpacked, still waiting for a decision I thought I’d made. The emerald beanie clutched in my hands feels like it’s mocking me—another choice I got spectacularly wrong.
Voices filter down from upstairs, but I can’t bring myself to care. Let them plan their next move. Let them think I’m down here processing, accepting, falling in line like a good little beta.
The crash of what sounds like the front door being kicked open barely registers. Neither does the sudden increase in volume, multiple female voices talking over each other.
“Where is she?”
“I swear to god, if you alpha assholes hurt her?—”
“Down there? What do you mean down there? In a basement?”
“Oh hell no?—”
The familiar cadence of those voices cuts through my fog like a knife. But it’s not until I hear the distinctive sound of Ginger threatening bodily harm that I really process what I’m hearing.
“I will literally cut off your knot and feed it to you if you try to stop me?—”
“Ginger!” Willow’s voice carries that particular mix of exasperation and fondness. “Let’s not threaten the alphas until we know what’s going on.”
“Speak for yourself,” Aria mutters. “I’m keeping castration on the table as an option.”
Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and suddenly my dark little corner of isolation is invaded by the three people I need most in the world.
“Oh, honey.” Willow takes one look at me and drops to her knees, pulling me into a hug that smells like home and safety.
I fucking break.
Not the quiet, controlled tears from earlier. Not the calculated show of vulnerability for the pack. This is ugly crying, the kind that comes with hiccups and snot and sounds that barely qualify as human.
“I’ve got you,” Willow whispers, and then Aria and Ginger are there too, all of us somehow fitting in this tiny space between bed and wall.
“What did they do?” Ginger demands, but Aria shushes her, fingers working through my hair like she does at the salon when I’m stressed.
“Later,” Aria says. “Right now we cry. Then we plot murder.”
A laugh bubbles up through my tears. “I missed you guys so fucking much.”
“Clearly.” Ginger eyes my eyebrows. “What the hell happened here? Did you get in a fight with your tweezers?”
“Leave her alone,” Willow scolds, but she’s smiling. “Though really, sweetie, we need to talk about this trend.”
“I stress-plucked,” I admit into Willow’s shoulder. “It’s been... a week.”
“Weeks of radio silence,” Aria’s tone carries an edge. “Quinn told us about the shooting, but that’s all we got. We’ve been going crazy.”
“Shot?” Ginger’s voice rises to a pitch that probably hurts dog ears. “What the actual fuck?”
Fresh tears spill over as everything hits at once—the shooting, the betrayal, the weight of all the secrets I’ve been carrying. My girls gather closer, creating a fortress of familiar scents and unconditional love.
“Start at the beginning,” Willow says gently. “And don’t leave anything out. Especially the part about why you’re clutching that hat like it’s life support.”
“It’s so stupid,” I manage between hiccups. “He made it for me. Jinx. The feral alpha who’s probably killed people but remembers how to knit.”
“The same feral alpha who helped get you shot?” Ginger’s PR polish cracks, letting her street edge show through.
“Actually, no I took a bullet for Theo.” I stare at the hat, at the perfectly even stitches. “Before everything went to hell. Before they decided I needed to be protected from my own fight.”
“Back up.” Willow uses her omega counselor voice, the one that gets even the most traumatized survivors to open up. “We know about the lockdown—hell, I’m the one who ordered it. We know about Sterling Labs targeting betas. But what happened last night?”
The hat blurs through fresh tears. “They took my drive. The one with everything on it. And Theo...” A sob catches in my throat. “God, I’m so stupid. He seduced me to keep me distracted while they tried to hack it.”
“He what?” Aria’s salon-perfect nails dig into my arm.
“They tried to hack my drive without me,” I clarify, which only makes Aria’s grip tighten.
“No, back up to the seduction part.” Her voice carries that dangerous edge it gets when she’s remembering her own past. “The omega seduced you as a distraction?”
“While they went to Quinn’s secure facility.” The words taste like ash. “Which is now burned because they couldn’t crack my encryption and apparently attracted attention and there was shooting and blood and?—”
“Breathe,” Willow orders, pulling me closer. “Just breathe.”
“I’m going to kill them,” Ginger announces with the same tone she uses to schedule press conferences. “Slowly. With their own pretentious coffee equipment.”
“You’ll have to get in line,” Aria mutters, still working tangles from my hair with deceptively gentle fingers. “I can’t believe Quinn was in on this.”
“Oh my god.” I sit up so fast I nearly headbutt Willow. “Quinn. He’s been feeding them information this whole time, hasn’t he? About the betas, about the drive...”
“Honey, Quinn’s been feeding everyone information,” Ginger says with a hint of pride. “It’s kind of his job. Our job. The whole reason we set up this network.”
“Which these alphas seem to think they can just muscle their way into.” Aria’s fingers still in my hair.
I stare at my girls—really look at them for the first time since they burst in. Willow, who runs omega guardians looks like she is thriving. Flushed cheeks and clear eyes. Aria, who turned her salon into a safe space for Omegas much like Theo. Ginger, who manages the public face of Omega Guardians while buried in PR firms.
“I’ve been such an idiot,” I whisper. “Sitting here playing house while you’re all still fighting. Still saving lives.”
“Stop.” Willow cups my face. “You weren’t playing house. You were healing. From a bullet wound. That you took protecting people.”
“While discovering corporate conspiracy,” Ginger adds.
“And infiltrating one of the most notorious packs in the city,” Aria finishes.
“Who I then let seduce me into compliance.” The bitterness creeps back in.
“Oh honey.” Ginger’s smile turns wicked. “That’s not compliance. That’s reconnaissance.”
I snort, the sound turning into another sniffle. God, I probably look like a raccoon who got in a fight with its makeup.
“How are you guys even here?” I swipe at the tears still leaking from my eyes.
They exchange looks—the kind that usually precedes news I won’t like. My heart does a complicated stutter in my chest.
“Theo called this morning,” Ginger says, stretching her legs out beside mine as she leans against the glass door. Her designer boots probably cost more than my first car.
“Theo.” The name feels different on my tongue now, weighted with everything that happened last night. “He said he was going to try and get a phone for me to call you guys.”
“He set up a playdate instead.” Her voice carries careful gentleness.
Fuck, my heart hurts.
“You fell in love.” Aria’s observation hits like a system crash.
“I’m not calling it love.” I swipe at another traitorous tear. “It’s a mental crisis.”
“Love is a mental crisis.” Aria’s smirk carries the wisdom of someone who’s survived her own heart’s betrayal.
“I don’t want it.”
“They were only trying to keep you safe.” Willow’s counselor voice makes an appearance.
“Yeah, somewhere in the last week?—”
“You know you’ve been here two months, right?” Ginger interrupts.
“Nope.” My laugh comes out watery. “No tech, no phones. Completely disconnected from the world.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be for this long.” Willow’s guilt bleeds through. “I know that probably doesn’t help.”
“It doesn’t. Makes it worse, actually.” I pick at a loose thread on my leggings, watching it unravel like my carefully constructed walls. “They’re perfect for me.”
“Oh, Cay.” Aria’s voice breaks around my name.
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance and missing by miles. “It’s not even a relationship, not really. They’re supposed to be protecting me, and I guess keeping me locked up worked, but it isn’t sustainable.”
“No, it isn’t.” Ginger’s PR voice slips through. “We’ve had multiple meetings because we need you back at headquarters, but with Sterling Labs, we don’t know how to handle the threat.”
The solution crystallizes in my mind, simple and devastating. I tuck it away for later, when I’m alone and can plan properly.
“Well, since you’re here.” I swipe away the last tears, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s get fucked up.”
“I brought wine.” Willow waggles her eyebrows, producing a bottle from her massive purse.
“Just wine?” Ginger reaches into her designer bag, pulling out a bottle of top-shelf tequila. “Amateur hour over here with the omega counselor wine.”
“Some of us are professionals,” Willow sniffs, but she’s already digging in her Mary Poppins purse again. “Fine. I also brought vodka.”
“And I,” Aria announces, producing a concerningly large bottle of whiskey, “brought the good stuff. Let’s take this party upstairs.”
“I don’t know if?—”
“If those alphas have a problem with it, they can bite me.” Ginger stands, pulling me up with her. “Besides, your omega already invited us. That means we have run of the house.”
“Speaking of the house.” Aria loops her arm through mine as we head upstairs. “Why the basement apartment? I thought Pack Locke was loaded.”
“They are.” I gesture at the mansion as we emerge. “The apartment’s actually nice—private entrance, security features. Plus...” I trail off, not wanting to admit how much I like having my own space while still being connected to them.
“Plus it’s easier to pretend you’re not falling for them when you have your own territory?” Willow’s tone stays gentle even as she starts raiding the kitchen for glasses.
“Something like that.” The admission costs me, but that’s what tequila is for.
“Fuck that noise.” Ginger’s already pouring shots. “We’re taking over the living room. I saw a sound system that’s begging to be used.”
Twenty minutes later, we’ve constructed what can only be described as a pillow fortress in the middle of their pretentious living room. Bottles line up on the coffee table like soldiers ready for battle, and Aria’s managed to figure out their sound system.
“To bad decisions,” Willow raises her glass.
“And the friends who help you make them,” Ginger adds.
“And alphas who better sleep with one eye open,” Aria finishes.
I knock back my shot, letting the burn chase away the last of my tears. “I’ve missed this so much.”
“We know.” Willow pulls me into her side. “Now, tell us everything. Starting with which one of them kisses best.”
I choke on my drink. “I am not drunk enough for this conversation.”
“Yet.” Ginger tops off my glass with more tequila. “Come on, spill. Four incredibly hot men, all living in close quarters? There’s no way you haven’t sampled the goods.”
“It’s not like that,” I protest, but heat creeps up my neck. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated like Theo-kept-you-distracted-with-his-tongue complicated?” Aria’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. “Or complicated like you’ve been playing house with four hot guys for two months?”
“Both?” I take another drink. “Neither? I don’t know anymore. Last night with Theo was... intense. But now knowing it was just a distraction while they stole my drive...”
“Honey.” Willow’s voice carries that omega wisdom that makes you spill your guts. “I’ve seen how that omega looks at you. Whatever else happened last night, that wasn’t fake.”
“You’ve been here what, an hour?”
“Long enough to see four very guilty, very concerned men hovering around trying to figure out how to fix what they broke.” Ginger stretches out on a pile of pillows. “Also long enough to see the murder in Jinx’s eyes when we barged in. Man looked ready to throw down until Theo explained who we were.”
“He’s protective,” I mumble into my glass.
“He’s sprung,” Aria corrects. “They all are. Which brings us back to the important question—who kisses best?”
The alcohol must be hitting because I actually consider the question. “Theo’s all artistry and technique. Jinx is... intense. Raw. Like he might devour you whole. Finn’s methodical but thorough. And Ryker...”
“Yes?” They lean in like teenagers at a slumber party.
“I haven’t actually kissed Ryker yet.” The admission makes me take another drink. “He’s waiting until... well, I guess until he thought I was ready. Fat lot of good that did.”
“Four incredibly hot men, all with different kissing styles, all wanting you?” Ginger raises her glass. “Girl, you’re living the dream.”
“The dream where they don’t trust me with my own code? Where they use sex as a distraction?”
“No.” Willow’s voice turns serious. “The dream where four damaged, protective idiots fall so hard they make epically stupid decisions trying to keep you safe.”
“Speaking of Theo...” Aria tops off everyone’s glasses. “I need details. I’ve never been with a male omega. Is it different?”
“So different.” The words slip out before I can catch them. Heat floods my cheeks. “He’s... god, the stamina alone.”
“Go on.” Ginger leans forward, clearly invested.
“It’s like...” I search for words through the tequila haze. “You know how female omegas are all soft curves and sweet slick? Theo’s the opposite. All hard muscle but still omega-sweet. And the slick...” I take another drink. “Let’s just say cleanup is interesting.”
“Does he get wet like female omegas?” Aria’s professional aesthetic cracks as curiosity takes over.
“Aria!” Willow sounds scandalized, but she’s leaning in too.
“What? We’re all thinking it.”
“Yes,” I admit, alcohol loosening my tongue. “But different. Everything about him is different. The way he moves, the way he tastes. He’s got this performer’s grace but with alpha strength. And when he decides to take control...” I fan myself, remembering last night.
“Damn.” Ginger whistles low. “No wonder you’re conflicted. That’s some grade-A confusion right there.”
“Tell me about it.” I flop back onto the pillows. “He’s everything I never knew I wanted. They all are. Finn with his precise little touches, Jinx with his chaos and care, Ryker with his stupid protective alpha energy...”
“And Theo with his omega stamina,” Aria adds with a wicked grin.
“He didn’t even get tired,” I groan, covering my face. “Just kept going and going while flooding the pack bonds with everything we were feeling.”
“Wait.” Willow sits up straighter. “He was broadcasting to the pack while you...?”
“Yep.” I pop the p , too drunk to be embarrassed anymore. “Pretty sure that’s why they all look so wrecked this morning. Well, that and the whole getting shot at thing.”
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it—the kind of satisfied smirk that says karma’s a bitch.
“Oh my god.” Aria catches the expression. “Look at that face! You’re actually pleased they got shot at!”
“Not shot,” I clarify, trying and failing to look innocent. “Just... inconvenienced. By bullets. In their general direction.”
“You evil little beta.” Ginger raises her glass in approval. “That’s what they get for trying to hack your system.”
“And for using our Theo’s omega wiles as a distraction,” Willow adds, then pauses. “Though from what I saw of those wiles when we came in... might have been worth it.”
“Willow!” I throw a pillow at her, but I’m laughing. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one!”
“Responsible doesn’t mean blind.” She catches the pillow. “That omega could tempt a saint. And the way Jinx prowls around in those hoodies...”
“With the baseball caps pulled low,” Aria sighs dreamily.
“And Finn in his perfect suits,” Ginger adds.
“Don’t forget Ryker and all that leather.” I drain my glass. “God, the motorcycle leather alone...”
“See?” Willow pokes me with her toe. “This is why you’re conflicted. Because yeah, they massively screwed up. But also...”
“But also they’re ridiculously hot and stupid protective and somehow perfect even when they’re being idiots?” I grab the tequila bottle. “Trust me, I know. That’s what makes it worse.”
“They have a prisoner.” The words slip out between shots, probably because the tequila’s killed my last brain cell. “From last night. When they got shot at.”
Three heads snap toward me with terrifying synchronization.
“I’m sorry,” Ginger sits up so fast she almost spills her drink. “They have a what now?”
“A prisoner. In some warehouse. Jinx knows a place apparently.” I wave my hand vaguely. “For PCA cleanup or something.”
“And they haven’t interrogated him yet?” Aria’s eyes light up with that dangerous gleam I haven’t seen since she caught her ex cheating.
“Oh my god.” Willow’s counselor persona cracks completely. “We should totally interrogate him.”
“We?” I blink at them through the tequila haze. “We’re drunk.”
“Exactly!” Ginger bounces up, surprisingly steady for someone who’s had that much whiskey. “Perfect time for an interrogation. They’ll never expect the drunk girl squad.”
“This is such a bad idea.” But I’m already standing, swaying slightly. “We don’t even know where?—”
“Please.” Aria rolls her eyes. “You think I haven’t already got Theo wrapped around my finger? One hair appointment and he tells me everything.”
I say nothing about the fact that hasn’t even happened yet.
“We need a driver though.” Willow, ever practical even when plotting drunk crimes.
A slow grin spreads across Ginger’s face. “Leave Ryker to me. I speak fluent Alpha power.”
“This is insane,” I protest weakly. “They’ll never agree to?—”
“RYKER!” Ginger bellows, making us all jump. “Get your leather-wearing alpha ass in here! We need to discuss prisoner protocol!”
“Oh god.” I slide down the wall as heavy footsteps approach. “We’re actually doing this.”
“Damn straight we are.” Aria pulls me back up. “No one uses our girl for omega distraction and gets away with it. Time to show these boys how it’s done.”
Ryker appears in the doorway, takes one look at the empty bottles, and immediately says, “No.”
“You don’t even know what we’re asking,” Ginger points out, using her PR voice—the one that can convince Fortune 500 companies to roll over.
“You’re drunk, and you’re plotting.” His eyes narrow at me. “I know that look.”
“What look?” I blink innocently, which probably works better when I’m not swaying.
“The one that means I’m about to lose an argument.”
“Smart alpha,” Willow approves, then ruins it by hiccupping. “See, we have this theory about your prisoner.”
“No.”
“Here’s the thing,” Aria leans forward, all salon conspiracy. “Men are idiots.”
“Especially criminal men,” Ginger adds.
“Especially criminal men being interrogated by other men,” I finish, catching their drift. “All that testosterone and posturing...”
“But four drunk girls?” Willow’s counselor smile turns wicked. “We’re harmless. Helpless. Not a threat at all.”
Understanding dawns in Ryker’s eyes. “You want to play good cop, bad cop.”
“We want to play drunk girls who just want to help,” Ginger corrects. “While secretly destroying his psyche.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll do your PR for a month,” Ginger offers.
“Two months,” he counters.
“Done.” She grins. “Plus, I’ll throw in crisis management for whatever shit storm Jinx causes next.”
Ryker looks at each of us in turn, probably cataloging all the ways this could go wrong. But I see the moment he gives in—right about when Aria mentions she knows three different ways to make someone talk using just a nail file.
“Fine.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “But I’m driving, and Jinx comes with us.”
“Obviously.” I stand, only stumbling a little. “Someone has to look scary in the background while we work.”
“This is such a bad idea,” he mutters, but he’s already reaching for his keys.
“The worst,” I agree cheerfully. “But just think—by this time tomorrow, we’ll either have all the answers...”
“Or have started a war,” Willow finishes.
“Same thing,” Aria, Ginger, and I say in perfect drunk-girl harmony.
Ryker’s sigh could move mountains. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
Four identical grins answer him. Poor alpha never stood a chance.