10. Cayenne
Chapter 10
Cayenne
I’m not sure exactly when the cabin living room transforms into a war room.
Maybe it’s when Finn tapes facility schematics to the wall, his hands steadier than they’ve been in days. Or when Jinx spreads weapons across the coffee table—enough firepower to make me wonder about his past connections. Perhaps it’s the moment Theo clears the dining table for surveillance equipment, his artistic precision now applied to tactical layouts. Or when Ryker marks entry points on maps, his military background evident in every deliberate stroke.
For me, it becomes real when my jumble of scavenged tech finally connects to Mona.
“Come on, you stubborn piece of...” I mutter, fingers flying across keys as my screen flickers. The connection stabilizes, revealing my sister surrounded by what looks like a candy wrapper explosion in Omega Guardians’ medical lab. Her hair’s pulled back in a messy bun, lollipop stick jutting from one corner of her mouth, and what might be a molecular model made entirely of gummy bears teeters beside her keyboard.
“Connection secured!” Mona announces instead of hello, adjusting her webcam and knocking over her candy creation. “Encryption functioning at acceptable levels.”
“Nice to see you too, sis.” I can’t help but smile. “How’s Aria treating you?”
“Lab space adequate. Safety protocols excessive.” Mona waves dismissively. “Insisted on removing experimental explosives from bedroom. Unreasonable restrictions on after-hours research.”
Jinx snorts behind me. “I like her more every time she speaks.”
“Focus, people.” Ryker appears at my shoulder, his scent shifting sharper—cedar with a metallic edge that makes the hair on my arms stand up. Even through the screen, I notice Mona’s posture straighten in response. “Mona, status on the booster production?”
“Fifty-seven doses synthesized. Distribution underway to key facilities.”
“And the vaccine?” Finn asks, leaning into frame.
The medicinal undertone in his scent spikes as he moves closer, briefly overpowering his usual rain-washed stone. Theo slides a mug into Finn’s hands. Jinx steps between him and the window. Ryker’s fingers brush his neck.
I lean in without thinking, my body radiating heat toward him.
Despite our hovering, Finn looks stronger today. The shadows under his eyes have lightened, and his hands shake less when he reaches for his mug. When he coughs softly, though, both Alphas tense beside me, their scents intensifying until the air feels almost thick with cedar and wild pine.
“Progress promising. Delivery mechanism problematic.” She tilts her head. “You need next dose in approximately sixty-eight hours. Viral suppression declining at predicted rate.”
“I can feel it,” Finn admits. “Like code slowly recompiling in the background.”
Theo’s hand finds Finn’s shoulder, squeezing gently. The air around him sweetens noticeably, creating a bubble of calm that makes Finn’s tight shoulders relax. At the same time, Theo slides a plate of protein-rich food closer to our Beta.
“We’ll get you to Mona before then,” Theo promises.
“About that,” Mona redirects, pulling up schematics that mirror what we’ve taped to our cabin wall. “Aurora Facility. Daddy’s masterpiece.”
The candy-fueled chaos in her eyes focuses into something dangerous. “Complex security. High opportunity for catastrophic failure with proper intervention.”
“We need a comprehensive breakdown,” Ryker states, pulling up a chair beside me. “Personnel, shifts, vulnerabilities.”
“Obviously.” Mona’s fingers fly across her keyboard. “Exterior security includes motion sensors, thermal cameras, armed patrols with dogs. Interior more interesting. Three security rings. Biometric checkpoints. Separate power grid with triple redundancy.”
“Impressive,” I murmur, scanning the layouts. “But every system has a weakness.”
“Correct.” A gleam enters Mona’s eyes. “Primary vulnerability: Sterling genetics.”
The room goes quiet. I feel the shift through our pack bonds—Ryker’s alertness, Jinx’s predatory focus, Finn’s curiosity, Theo’s concern, all merging with my cautious hope.
“Elaborate,” Ryker prompts.
“All biometric scanners programmed to recognize Sterling blood markers.” Mona pops new lollipop into mouth. “Backdoor access protocol. Daddy’s paranoia. You and I bypass first level security automatically. With minor adjustments to blood markers—specific proteins—could access all levels.”
“But the genetic blockers,” I remind her, my stomach tightening. “We’re taking them to prevent Sterling from tracking us.”
“Correct. Problematic contradiction.” She frowns around lollipop. “Solution requires precise timing. Blocker effectiveness approximately five days from initial dose. Genetic markers begin resurfacing after hour one-hundred-fourteen.”
Finn leans forward, eyes sharpening with interest. The movement triggers another round of subtle pack adjustments—Theo’s hand steadying his elbow, Jinx moving closer, Ryker shifting to support Finn’s weight if needed. When Finn shivers, I find myself pulling off my sweater and wrapping it around his shoulders without even thinking about it.
“So we’d have a window of approximately six hours,” he says, voice steadier than his scent. “The blockers would be weak enough to allow biometric recognition but not strong enough for Sterling’s tracking system to detect.”
“Precisely!” Mona beams.
Ryker’s hand settles on my shoulder, his fingers digging in slightly. “That’s cutting it dangerously close.”
“All operations have risk,” Mona shrugs. “This approach provides 76.3% success probability. Alternative approaches all below 42.8%.”
“I don’t like those odds,” Jinx growls.
The temperature around him seems to drop as his scent sharpens with aggression. Theo moves closer to him, touching his arm lightly. The contact makes Jinx’s jaw unclench, though the dangerous light in his eyes doesn’t dim.
A laugh bubbles out of me, unexpected and slightly manic. “Since when have any of us played it safe?”
Ryker gives me a look that’s equal parts exasperation and grudging agreement. His thumb brushes against my claiming bite, the touch sending warmth cascading down my spine. My racing pulse slows, matching his steadier rhythm without conscious effort.
“Let’s hear the full plan,” he concedes.
For the next hour, we dissect the Aurora Facility through Mona’s intel—security rotations, blind spots, emergency protocols. The picture emerges of a fortress designed by someone with unlimited resources and profound paranoia, but with just enough flaws to make infiltration possible.
Finn’s contributions remain razor-sharp despite the strain. When he coughs again, Theo brings him tea that smells of mint. The scent cuts through the medicine smell clinging to his rain-washed stone.
Jinx drapes a blanket around his shoulders without pausing his explanation of explosives. Ryker turns up the thermostat. I scoot my chair closer, feeling like a human space heater.
As planning intensifies, everyone settles into roles. Ryker and Jinx circle the room’s edges. Theo quietly supplies water and snacks. Finn sorts information, fingers never still.
I bounce between screens, half-tracking exits, half-analyzing data.
“Primary production facility on sublevel three,” Mona continues, rotating a 3D rendering. “Containment protocols for viral agents exceed normal standards.”
“We don’t need to breach containment,” Finn points out, studying the schematic. His hands tremble slightly as he traces potential entry routes, and Jinx steadies his wrist without comment. “Just destroy the production equipment and research data.”
“Specific charges for maximum cascading failure,” Mona agrees.
Jinx’s eyes light up with unholy glee. “Now we’re talking my language.”
“Secondary objective: central database,” Mona continues. “Located sublevel five. Physical access required for complete data extraction.”
“That’s where I come in,” I say, already mentally mapping the hack. “Download everything, then corrupt beyond recovery.”
Ryker hesitates, glancing at Finn. “Given your condition, maybe you should coordinate from Omega Guardians with Mona. Remote guidance?—”
“No.” Finn’s voice is quiet but firm, his rain-washed stone scent sharpening with determination. “I need to be on-site. Sterling’s database architecture is adaptive—it shifts configurations to prevent external breaches.”
“The risk—” Ryker begins.
“Is calculated. I’ve assessed it.” Finn straightens in his chair, strength returning to his posture despite the slight tremor in his hands. “Cayenne will need me there. The database architecture will likely have pattern-recognition security that responds to hacking attempts. I can identify the underlying algorithms while she works.”
Theo’s protective instincts flare, vanilla scent intensifying. “Finn, you’re still recovering?—”
“I’m well enough for this,” he insists. “My mind is clear, even if my body isn’t at full strength yet. And nowhere is completely safe anyway. If Sterling finds the cabin or Omega Guardians...”
The logic is unassailable. Ryker’s jaw tightens, but after a moment, he nods reluctantly.
“We’ll need your analytical skills there, Finn,” he concedes. “The database architecture will require your pattern recognition alongside Cayenne’s hacking abilities.”
Finn’s shoulders relax slightly, relief evident. “Sterling’s systems are sophisticated, but predictable in their own way. I’ve been analyzing the fragments we’ve acquired—there are exploitable patterns.”
“Tertiary objective,” Mona adds, her voice dropping. “Research subjects.”
The room goes silent. Theo’s hand covers his mouth. Ryker’s jaw clenches so hard a muscle jumps. Jinx’s fingers curl into fists. Finn’s eyes close briefly.
“Research subjects?” Theo repeats, his voice breaking. The air around him shifts dramatically, filling with a protective scent so powerful that my eyes water.
“Betas primarily,” Mona confirms, her usual energy subdued. “Designation manipulation experiments. Various stages of transformation. Forty-three subjects currently held in medical observation wing.”
My stomach twists. “We need to get them out.”
“Agreed,” Ryker says immediately. “No one gets left behind.”
“Quinn’s teams can handle evacuation,” Finn suggests. “While we focus on the core objectives - database and production facility.” He sways slightly, and Theo’s hand finds his elbow, supporting him with such natural grace that the conversation doesn’t falter.
“What about Roman himself?” I ask, voicing the question burning inside me. “Is he on-site?”
Mona’s expression darkens. “Primary office on top floor. Residence on property. High probability of presence during operation. Very stringent personal security.”
“He’s mine,” Jinx states, his voice dropping to something barely human.
His pupils expand until only a thin ring of green remains, and the claiming mark on my neck burns in response.
“No,” Ryker and I say simultaneously.
Through our bond, I feel Ryker’s message without words: Too dangerous. Too personal. Mission first.
The clarity of the communication startles me—not just emotion but actual tactical thought transmitted through our connection.
“This isn’t about vengeance,” Ryker continues aloud. “It’s about neutralizing the threat. We can’t risk the primary objectives for personal vendetta.”
“It’s not personal,” Jinx argues, though the feral gleam in his eyes says otherwise. “He’s the source. Cut off the head, kill the snake.”
“And if we fail?” Finn counters, his voice suddenly stronger. “If we go after Roman and miss the primary objectives? The virus production continues, more Betas die or are transformed, and Sterling rebuilds with even better security.”
The effort costs him visibly—his face pales, sweat beading along his hairline. The pack responds instantly—Theo’s hand at his neck, Ryker shifting to support his weight, Jinx’s aggression redirecting to protective vigilance. I find myself moving closer too, something in me reaching out to steady him.
A tense silence falls. I watch Jinx struggle with himself, the predator in him wanting blood, the pack member understanding the larger mission. His jaw clenches and unclenches, hands flexing at his sides.
I reach for him instinctively, fingers circling his wrist where his pulse hammers against my touch. The connection through our bond makes me gasp—my calm flowing into him, his protective fire surrounding me.
Trust me, I push through the bond. Mission first, then justice.
His eyes meet mine, surprise flickering across his face as he receives the thought. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly.
“Fine,” he finally concedes. “But if he crosses my path...”
“If he crosses your path, you neutralize the threat,” Ryker agrees. “But we don’t deviate from the primary objectives to hunt him.”
Theo, who’s been unusually quiet, finally speaks up. “What about Alexander?”
Mona’s expression sharpens with interest. “Ah, big brother. Current assignment unknown. Not present at Aurora Facility according to last intelligence. Possibly deployed for special operation.”
“Hunting us,” I translate, remembering the cold efficiency in Alexander’s movements.
“High probability,” Mona agrees.
“So we need to be prepared for Alexander to appear at any moment,” Ryker summarizes, “while simultaneously infiltrating a high-security facility, destroying a virus production plant, extracting valuable data, and evacuating dozens of research subjects.”
“In a six-hour window before Sterling’s tracking system can find us,” I add.
“While ensuring Finn gets his next booster in time,” Theo reminds us, his hand still resting at the nape of Finn’s neck.
“And I coordinate with Mona from Omega Guardians afterward,” Finn says. “She’s monitoring the blocker effectiveness while providing remote system support.”
Jinx laughs, the sound carrying equal parts madness and delight. “Just another Tuesday for the psycho squad.”
Despite everything, I find myself smiling. “When you put it like that, it almost sounds fun.”
“Quinn’s tactical teams reduce some risk,” Mona notes. “Omega Guardian network provides medical support for evacuees but requires secure transport corridors.”
“We can make this work,” Finn says, mind visibly calculating despite his physical struggle. “But the timing has to be perfect. We’ll need to coordinate multiple teams hitting different objectives simultaneously.”
“We’ll need comms,” I note. “Secure, untraceable. Sterling’s security will be scanning all usual frequencies.”
“Already prepared,” Mona says with evident satisfaction. “Custom encryption protocol. Frequency-hopping technology. Also includes emergency detonation option for explosives.”
Jinx raises an eyebrow. “You built remote detonators into our comms?”
“Obviously. Maximum flexibility.”
“I think I’m in love,” Jinx declares, only half-joking.
“Unrequited,” Mona responds flatly. “Romance inefficient use of resources. Also, you smell wrong.”
I can’t help laughing. “Tell us how you really feel, sis.”
“I always do.”
As we proceed to assignments, Ryker distributes roles with intuitive understanding of our strengths.
“Jinx, you’ll lead the Alpha operatives from Quinn’s team,” he directs. “Your strength will be crucial for moving explosives into position, and your designation gives you natural authority over other Alphas.”
Jinx nods, already claiming that territory in his mind.
“Theo, you’ll coordinate with Omega Guardians on triage preparations,” Ryker continues. “The research subjects will likely respond best to Omega presence after captivity—your presence can help stabilize them during evacuation.”
“I’ll prepare calming kits,” Theo agrees, already planning. “Scent-neutral blankets, mild sedatives if needed.”
“Cayenne and Finn will handle the server room infiltration,” Ryker says, his gaze lingering on Finn with concern before shifting to me. “Your hacking skills and Finn’s analytical abilities make you our best chance at cracking Sterling’s database. Finn’s pattern recognition will help navigate the security architecture while Cayenne extracts the data.”
Finn straightens slightly, relief evident in the set of his shoulders. “Sterling’s systems are sophisticated, but predictable in their own way. I’ve been analyzing the fragments we’ve acquired—there are exploitable patterns.”
“I’ll take the exterior team to secure your extraction route,” Ryker concludes. “Quinn handles subject evacuation with Theo’s support.”
I feel each pack member processing implications—flickers of thought clearer than yesterday, the bond communication strengthening with practice. Finn calculating probabilities, Theo weighing pack safety against mission necessity, Jinx focused but controlled, Cayenne already mapping infiltration paths.
The weight of command has never felt heavier, nor more certain. Five lives hang on my decision. Everything we’ve built together balanced on tactical judgment.
I meet each gaze, feeling the threads between us—not just instinct but something forged through choice and fire and shared purpose.
My pack. My responsibility. My home.
Once, I led through authority—orders issued, compliance expected, distance maintained. Now leadership flows through connection—strength multiplied through trust, capability enhanced through bonds beyond tactical alliance.
Jinx’s eyes find mine last, carrying silent confirmation that he’s ready, controlled, committed. Something has shifted in him since bonding with Cayenne—the chaos still present but channeled, purposeful.
“We move tonight.” My decision ripples through the bond, met with synchronized resolve.
Command isn’t about controlling outcomes. It’s about choosing which risks are worth taking for the people you love.
And this pack—these people—are worth everything.
When Finn sways in his chair, we move at once. Theo’s arm steadies him. Jinx grabs his elbow. Ryker shifts behind him. We pretend not to notice, letting him keep his dignity.
I reach for him through our bond, showing him analyzing data, finding patterns, guiding me through Sterling’s databases. The directed communication may not be perfect yet, but I see understanding register in his eyes.
“You’re going to be my eyes in there,” I say, squeezing his hand. “When we enter that server room, your brain is our greatest weapon.”
When we finally break, exhaustion weighs on all of us. Ryker’s hands tremble slightly, the extended Alpha command presence taking its toll. Jinx paces restlessly, his need to patrol and secure intensifying. Theo’s skin is flushed, his eyes slightly glassy from hours of dampening tensions with his scent. Finn’s recovery has visibly stalled, his face ashen despite our support.
My own body responds unpredictably—waves of protectiveness followed by heightened sensitivity to everyone’s distress. The claiming marks throb insistently, demanding physical reconnection after hours of tactical focus.
As the others disperse to grab food or rest, I remain connected to Mona, watching her work through calculations.
“You didn’t mention the other part,” I say quietly, once we’re alone.
She looks up. “Which part?”
“The part where you’re terrified of facing him again.”
Her manic energy stills completely. In that moment, I see the real Mona—not the chaotic genius, not the candy-obsessed Omega—but the girl who grew up under Roman Sterling’s control, who witnessed his cruelty firsthand, who transformed her fear into a weapon.
“Terror inefficient emotion,” she finally says, though her voice lacks its usual edge. “Irrelevant to mission success.”
“But you feel it anyway.”
“Yes.” The single word carries more honesty than any of her scientific explanations. “Memories... persistent. Intrusive.”
“You don’t have to be there,” I offer. “You can coordinate remotely. Stay safe.”
“Safety illusion while daddy lives.” Her gaze hardens. “Must see it end. Must confirm destruction.”
I understand completely. “We’ll end it. Together.”
“Family cooperation. Unexpected variable in life equation.” Ghost of smile touches lips. “Not unpleasant.”
“No,” I agree. “Not unpleasant at all.”
The connection ends with plans to reconvene tomorrow. I stand, stretching muscles stiff from hours of sitting, and turn to find Ryker watching me from the doorway.
“How long have you been there?” I ask.
“Long enough.” He crosses to me, hands finding my shoulders, kneading the tight muscles. “You and Mona... it’s remarkable, given everything.”
“She’s what I might have become without my mom,” I tell him. “Without all of you.”
His hands still. “You consider us grounding?”
“Ironic, right? Former lone-wolf hacker finding stability with the literal psycho squad.” I turn in his arms, facing him directly. “But yes. You ground me. All of you.”
I send him quick flashes – Ryker’s steady hands during training, Jinx making chaos seem manageable, Finn’s mind completing my thoughts, Theo’s art revealing beauty in broken things.
His eyes widen slightly as he receives the directed memories. “You’re getting better at that. Directed communication through the bond.”
“Side effect of the virus, maybe,” I suggest. “Or just practice.”
“Tomorrow’s going to be dangerous,” he says after a moment.
“I know.”
“Promise me you’ll follow the plan. No heroics, no lone-wolf stunts.”
I pull back enough to meet his eyes. “Only if you promise the same. No sacrificial Alpha bullshit.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Deal.”
His scent wraps around me like a physical shield. My body responds automatically, claiming marks warming as my own scent rises to meet his—citrus and ozone now carrying notes of cedar.
The cabin kitchen smells of whatever miracle Theo has created from our dwindling supplies. I lean against the doorframe, watching Jinx meticulously clean a handgun at the table while Finn reviews security protocols on his tablet.
Despite his exhaustion, Finn refuses to rest until he’s verified every access code and contingency. When he finally leans back, his strength visibly failing, we move around him without discussion—Theo adjusting pillows while preparing a nutrient-dense plate, Ryker checking his temperature with a casual touch, Jinx shifting closer to share body heat. I find myself measuring Finn’s medications with surprising expertise, my hands steady where his shake.
“You need to eat something,” I tell him, setting the pills beside a glass of water.
He looks up, fatigue etched in the lines around his eyes, but there’s determination there too. “So do you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.” He catches my wrist, his touch light but insistent. “You’ve been running on caffeine and adrenaline all day.”
Before I can argue, Theo appears with two plates. “Both of you, eat. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not actually a doctor,” I point out, but take the plate anyway.
“Close enough,” he counters, watching until I take the first bite.
The food is simple—pasta with herbs and whatever protein Theo managed to scrounge—but it tastes like salvation after hours of planning. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the first bite hits my tongue.
Finn eats slowly, each movement careful. When his hand shakes, Theo steadies his wrist while refilling his water.
“Try to get some rest,” Ryker says, checking his phone one last time. “Tomorrow comes early.”
Finn nods, letting Theo help him up. The fact that he doesn’t protest says everything.
I watch them head down the hallway, worry gnawing at my stomach.
“He’ll be okay,” Jinx says, his voice low. “Finn’s tough.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I just hate this.”
“We all do.” Jinx’s thumb brushes over his claiming mark on my neck. The tension in my shoulders eases instantly. “But we’ve got him.”
The certainty in his voice settles me. This pack of killers and geniuses has become my anchor.
I drift to sleep between warm bodies. Finn’s steady breathing. Theo’s arm draped across him. Ryker’s back to the door. Jinx’s hand resting on my hip.
Tomorrow we face Sterling. Tonight, I’m home.