24. Ryker
Chapter 24
Ryker
The city blurs past my window, nothing more than neon and shadows. Behind me, Jinx repeatedly checks his tactical gear—a nervous habit that fills the SUV with soft clicks and rustles. Finn sits shotgun, tablet glowing as he reviews building schematics one last time. Through the rearview mirror, I can see Quinn’s unmarked van following us, carrying our secret weapon.
Cayenne’s voice crackles through the comm, “Security rotation in three minutes.” She sounds different with technology back in her hands. More confident. More herself. More dangerous. “You’re still clear for the western approach.”
I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, hyperaware of how this feels like a beginning and an ending all at once. Twelve hours ago, I was warning her about running. Now we’re trusting her to guide us through Sterling Labs’ security from a van full of equipment that Quinn borrowed from PCA.
“Copy that.” Finn’s voice is steady, professional. No hint of the beta who spends hours playing chess with her, teaching her strategy while she teaches him chaos.
The streets get darker as we approach the industrial district. Fewer lights, fewer witnesses. Perfect for what we’re about to do. Not so perfect for the thoughts circling in my head.
I can’t stop thinking about that damn snowball fight. How she read us all so quickly—Jinx’s aggressive charges, Theo’s artistic dodges, Finn’s calculated strikes. How she adapted to each of our styles, complementing our strengths, covering our weaknesses. Like she was made to fit with us.
Like she was made to destroy us.
“Two minutes to target.” Her voice again, all business now. Through my side mirror, I watch Quinn’s van maintain perfect distance. Inside, she’s surrounded by screens and servers, finally back in her element. No trace of the woman who fills my pack with laughter and confusion in equal measure. “Thermal imaging shows minimal activity on the lower levels.”
I turn down another street, this one darker than the last. The Sterling Labs building looms ahead, all glass and steel reaching toward a starless sky. Somewhere in there are answers about the omega attack. About their experiments.
About her.
“One minute.” Her voice drops lower. “There’s a loading bay off the west entrance. Perfect blind spot for both vehicles.”
“Lucky number seven,” Theo’s voice comes through the comms as he parks the van with perfect precision. He shouldn’t be here—we never take him on missions like this. Too much risk.
“All units in position,” Cayenne confirms. Through the van’s window, I catch one last glimpse of her bathed in blue light before Theo seals her in. Alone with her tech. Alone with whatever secrets she’s keeping.
“Comms check,” Finn says, already moving to the back of the SUV for his equipment.
“Check one,” Jinx, vibrating with contained violence.
“Check two.” My own voice, steady despite the tension coiling in my gut.
“Check three.” Theo, unusually serious.
“Check four.” Cayenne’s voice fills our ears, crystal clear through the new tech. “I’m into their primary security feeds. First rotation starts in forty seconds.”
I gather my team—my pack— close. “Remember the objective. Get the sample, confirm the source, get out. No heroics.” This last part directed at both Jinx and Theo, who share the same dangerous glint in their eyes.
“Twenty seconds.” Cayenne’s voice takes on that edge of excitement that always makes my alpha sit up and notice. “The moment I kill the feeds, you’ll have exactly?—”
“We know,” I cut her off, because I can’t afford distractions. Can’t think about how her scent lingered in my office this morning, how her unpacked bags mock our tentative pack bonds. “Maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary.”
“Copy that, Alpha.” Defiance wrapped in protocol. Always testing limits.
Theo gives the van one last check before joining us, his usual artistic flow replaced with predatory grace. This is why we don’t bring him on missions— he’s too much like Jinx, too prone to letting instinct override control.
“Ten seconds,” Cayenne whispers.
Jinx rolls his shoulders. Finn checks his collection kit. Theo’s eyes gleam with barely contained darkness.
“Five.”
I meet each of their gazes. My team. My pack. Whatever Sterling Labs is hiding, whatever connection Cayenne has to all this, we face it together.
“Three.”
The night holds its breath.
“Two.”
Jinx and Theo flank me, lethal bookends to our formation. Finn readies himself between us.
“One.”
We move.
“West entrance camera loop engaged.” Cayenne’s voice is all business now. “You’ve got eighteen seconds to clear the loading dock.”
We move as one unit, shadows among shadows. Years of training, of fighting together, make us fluid. Deadly. Finn takes point with his tablet, Jinx and I flanking while Theo covers our six.
“Fifteen seconds.”
The loading dock door has a keycard reader. Top of the line. Supposedly uncrackable.
“Twelve seconds.” A pause, then, “Sending access code now.”
The door clicks. Just like that. Like Sterling’s legendary security is nothing but tissue paper to her.
The thought settles cold in my gut.
“Nine seconds. Get inside.”
We slip through the door, into the sterile brightness of Sterling Labs. The air tastes like antiseptic and secrets.
“Guards?” I subvocalize.
“Two in the security office, watching basketball.” Her fingers clicking across keys carry through the comms. “One patrolling level three. Night cleaning crew on five.”
We move toward the stairs, following the path we’ve memorized. But something feels off. The security is good—state of the art even—but it feels... performative. Like whoever designed it left deliberate blind spots.
“Wait.” Her voice stops us at the stairwell door. “Movement on two.”
We freeze as one unit. Finn’s hand hovers over the door. Jinx’s muscles coil, ready for violence. Theo’s breath catches, barely audible.
“Guard’s coffee break,” she updates after ten seconds that feel like years. “You’re clear to level B3.”
The stairwell echoes with our careful descent. Three floors down into Sterling’s secrets. With each step, the air gets cooler. Heavier with purpose.
“Security hub shows all clear,” she whispers. “But...”
“But?” I prompt, not liking the hesitation in her voice.
“Something’s wrong.” Keys click rapidly. “The system... it’s too easy.”
My thoughts exactly.
“Maintain course,” I order. The hair at my nape rises, skin prickling with gooseflesh despite the controlled temperature. My muscles coil without conscious command, weight shifting to the balls of my feet as a metallic taste floods my mouth—the body’s ancient warning system activating before my mind can process why.
Because she’s right—this is too easy. Like the building is welcoming us in. Like someone expected us.
Like someone knew exactly how we’d try to get in.
Someone who knows our tactics.
Someone who knows our tech.
Someone named Sterling.
“This whole level is...” Cayenne trails off, and I hear the focus in her voice sharpen. “Hold position.”
We freeze halfway down the corridor, trusting her implicitly despite my doubts. That trust is either going to save us or damn us.
“What do you see?” Finn whispers.
“It’s not what I see.” Keys click rapid-fire. “It’s what I don’t see. The security system has gaps. Deliberate ones. Like they want someone to think they’ve found a weakness.”
I exchange looks with my team. Jinx’s hands tighten on his weapons. Theo’s nostrils flare, testing the air.
“They’re playing a game,” she continues, and I hear something new in her voice—not fear, but fierce intelligence. The same calculating tone she had during the snowball fight when she spotted all our weaknesses. “But I can play better.”
More typing. Screens reflecting in my mind’s eye.
“Okay, change of plans. See that maintenance panel to your left? That’s not on any blueprint, but I’m picking up power signatures. It’s a secondary system.”
“How did you—” Finn starts.
“Because it’s what I would do.” She cuts him off. “Create an obvious path, then watch who’s dumb enough to take it. But they didn’t count on someone who thinks like they do.”
The confidence in her voice hits something in my chest. Because this—this right here—is why we need her. Why she fits with us in ways I didn’t want to admit.
“Finn, hook me into that panel. I’m going to show Sterling Labs what happens when you try to outsmart a hacker who spent her teenage years breaking into Pentagon servers for fun.”
Theo lets out a low whistle. Jinx grins, all teeth and anticipation.
“You did what now?” I can’t help asking.
“Story for another time, Alpha.” I can hear her smile. “Right now, I’m going to dismantle their entire security web and rebuild it around them. They want to play? Let’s play.”
Finn connects his tablet to the panel, and suddenly Cayenne’s typing becomes almost musical. A symphony of keystrokes that’s rewriting Sterling’s carefully laid trap.
“They’re watching the main corridors,” she narrates as she works. “Expecting a direct approach. But see, that’s the problem with most security systems—they focus so much on keeping people out, they forget about what’s already in.”
“Meaning?” I prompt, fascinated despite myself by the deadly grace in her voice.
“Meaning I just convinced their system that we’re supposed to be here. That we’re part of its routine maintenance protocols. We’re not breaking in anymore.” She pauses for effect. “We’re just coming home.”
The panel lights shift from red to green.
“Every camera, every sensor, every alarm on this floor now thinks we belong here.” Pride colors her tone. “They’ll be so busy watching their obvious traps, they won’t even notice us walking right through their front door.”
And in that moment, watching my team move forward under her protection, something shifts in my chest—a recognition that shakes me to my core. The pack bonds flare with shared purpose, and even through the sterile lab air, I can smell the change in my pack’s scents: Jinx’s cherry tobacco softening with trust, Theo’s midnight jasmine warming with acceptance, Finn’s worn leather brightening with understanding.
We’ve been wrong about her from the start.
She’s not a liability we need to control—she’s the chaos that balances our order.
She’s not a potential threat to contain—she’s the wild card that completes our hand.
She’s the missing piece we never knew we needed, her lemon-sharp defiance fitting perfectly into the spaces between our broken pieces.
The realization hits me with the force of a scent bond, though she’s not even here. My alpha instincts surge with the need to claim, to mark, to make her understand that she’s already pack in all the ways that matter. The alpha in me recognizes what the tactical leader tried to deny—she doesn’t just work with us.
She belongs with us.
The one who thinks like our enemies but fights for us instead.
“Next intersection,” she directs. “Three doors down. That’s where they keep their biological samples. And Ryker?” Her voice softens just for me. “I’ve got you. All of you.”
The simple promise hits harder than any declaration of loyalty could. Because she proves it with every keystroke, every warning, every path she clears for us.
She’s not running from the pack.
She’s protecting it.
“Contact,” Cayenne’s voice suddenly turns sharp. “Two guards approaching from the east corridor. They’re... wait. That’s not right.”
“Talk to me.” I signal the team to hold position.
“Their movement pattern is wrong.” Her typing speeds up. “Regular patrols don’t—shit. Security hub just went dark. Someone’s manually overriding the system.”
Jinx tenses beside me, ready for violence. Theo’s eyes gleam dangerously in the dim light.
“Options?” I demand, already calculating escape routes.
“Give me thirty seconds.” The confidence in her voice never wavers. “Finn, connect your tablet to the next junction box. Now.”
He moves without hesitation while we provide cover. The sound of boots on tile grows closer.
“They’re trying to lock me out.” Her words quicken, pitch rising at the end of each sentence, a breathlessness entering her typically controlled tone. Not the tight, thin sound of terror, but something brighter, sharper—the verbal equivalent of a runner’s high. “Cute. Really cute. But they forgot something important.”
“Which is?” Theo whispers.
“Rule one of cybersecurity—never assume you’re the smartest person in the system.” Her typing becomes almost violent. “Fifteen seconds. When I say go, move to the sample room. Don’t stop, don’t look back.”
The footsteps get closer. Too close.
“Ten seconds.” Keys clicking like gunfire. “See, they think they’re trapping us. But they just gave me access to something much better than security cameras.”
“Cayenne...” I warn, because those footsteps are almost here.
“Five seconds. Fun fact about modern buildings—everything’s connected. Security systems, environmental controls...” She actually laughs. “Sprinkler systems.”
“Three.”
The footsteps round the corner.
“Two.”
Jinx raises his weapon.
“One.”
The world erupts in chaos.
Every sprinkler in the corridor activates at once, but that’s just the beginning. Emergency lights start strobing, doors all over the facility begin opening and closing in random patterns, and through it all, I hear Cayenne’s voice, deadly calm:
“Go. Now.”
We run, guided by her voice while behind us shouts of confusion echo through the facility. The guards are caught in her mechanical storm, trying to respond to dozens of system failures all at once.
“Sample room, straight ahead.” She’s got cameras back now, directing us through her carefully orchestrated chaos. “You’ve got two minutes before they figure out what I did. One card reader, but...” A pause, then the door clicks open. “What’s a little more breaking and entering between friends?”
Finn moves to the storage units while we secure the room. Through the comms, I hear Cayenne continuing to wreak havoc on Sterling’s systems.
“They’re trying to trace me.” She sounds almost gleeful. “Running into their own redundancies. Getting tangled in their own security measures. It’s like watching someone punch themselves in the face.”
“Sample secured,” Finn announces, his beta scent sharp with anxiety that hits me through our pack bonds.
“Time to go,” I order, but Cayenne interrupts.
“Wait. Downloading something interesting. Thirty seconds.”
“We don’t have thirty seconds,” I growl, alpha instincts surging as the pack bonds pulse with shared tension. Her scent memory hits me even through the comms—bright lemon and electric ozone, now edged with a desperation that makes my alpha pace. Something about this matters to her. Something that makes her risk everything, even as the pack bonds thrum with collective danger.
“Trust me, Alpha.” The steel in her voice matches my own, but there’s something underneath. Something that makes my fingers itch to touch the mark I haven’t yet left on her throat. “You’re going to want this.”
And despite everything, despite all my doubts and fears, I do trust her. Because she’s earned it with every calculated risk, every protected escape route, every moment she’s chosen the pack over her own safety.
“Fifteen seconds,” she counts down. “Also, I may have convinced their system that there’s a fire in the executive wing. And that the cafeteria is flooding. And that the elevator shafts are experiencing critical failures.”
Jinx’s grin turns feral. “I think I’m in love.”
“Ten seconds. Get ready to run. I’m about to give them a corporate nightmare they’ll never forget.”
“What did you do?” Theo asks, equal parts impressed and terrified.
“Let’s just say Sterling Labs is going to have a very interesting morning explaining to their board of directors why their highly classified research data started uploading to public servers.” She pauses for effect. “Which it isn’t, really, but it’ll take them hours to verify that.”
“You’re terrifying,” Finn says with obvious admiration.
“Thank you. Now run.”
“No, no, no!” Cayenne’s voice suddenly loses its playful edge. “They’re shutting down external connections. Cutting off server access.”
I hear the desperation in her typing, the fury of someone watching their prize slip away.
“Time to go,” I order, but something in her silence makes me pause. “Cayenne?”
“I almost had it.” Raw frustration bleeds through her words. “All the data about the beta—” She cuts herself off. “About their experiments. It was right there.”
The footsteps are getting closer. Alarms blare. Whatever chaos she created is being contained.
“Cay.” Finn’s voice carries understanding. Too much understanding. “We need an exit.”
For three heartbeats, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathing. I can almost see her, surrounded by screens, watching some vital truth slip through her fingers.
Then her voice returns, all business. All steel.
“Take the east stairwell. Now.” The emotion is gone, replaced by lethal focus. “I’m sealing bulkheads behind you. They’ll have to cut through them to follow.”
We run, following her directions without hesitation. Behind us, metal doors slam shut with hydraulic finality.
“Two guards at the next junction,” she warns. “But the sprinkler system is still mine.”
Water rains down, giving us cover. The guards slip on wet floors, cursing.
“Loading dock in forty seconds.” Her typing never slows. “I’ve got their systems tied in knots, but they’re catching up. Whatever you do, don’t stop running.”
We don’t.
Through it all, I hear what she’s not saying. What she gave up to get us out. Something about beta experiments. Something she needed badly enough that sacrificing it cost her.
But she chose us.
Despite her secrets, despite whatever truth she was hunting, she chose the pack.
“Vehicle exit route?” I ask as we burst into the loading dock.
“Sending it to Theo now. Alternative course to avoid security response teams.” Her voice catches, just slightly. “I’ve got you. Just... just get out.”
We pile into the vehicles, Theo peeling away in the van with Cayenne while we follow in the SUV. Her voice guides us through back streets, around emergency responses, away from cameras.
“Clear,” she finally announces, five miles and fifteen minutes later. “We’re clear.”
The air should taste like triumph, but something sour coats my tongue. Cayenne’s voice carries a hollowness beneath her words, a vacuum where celebration should be. Finn’s knuckles whiten around his tablet, tendons standing out like wire beneath skin.
Whatever she was trying to download, whatever truth she had to sacrifice to ensure our escape—it meant something. Something big enough to make her hesitate, even for a moment.
But in the end, she chose us.
Now I just have to figure out why that feels like both a victory and a warning.
And confront her as soon as we get back. It’s past time she tells us what is on that drive.