24. Ryker
Chapter 24
Ryker
Moments earlier
The extraction point becomes a kill box in seconds.
Three tactical teams converge on our position, pinning us down with coordinated fire. I shove Jinx and Theo behind the SUV, Finn’s deadweight dragging against my shoulder as his fever spikes dangerously high.
“Where the hell is Cayenne?” Jinx growls, returning fire around the vehicle’s hood.
“And Mona with that fucking booster,” I add, checking Finn’s pulse. Too fast, too thready. His skin burns against my fingers despite the cool evening air, the virus ravaging him with renewed intensity since we left the mansion.
Theo whimpers beside me, the sound carrying something primal and desperate. The scent hits me a moment later—dark vanilla deepening into something that makes my blood burn. Full heat, triggered by extreme stress.
“Not now,” I mutter, as if biology gives a damn about tactical situations.
“Can’t... help it,” Theo pants, sweat beading across his forehead as he fights to maintain control. “Suppressants... failing completely.”
Perfect fucking timing. A critical pack member down with virus complications, our omega hitting unexpected heat, and Sterling’s forces closing in from three sides. This is what command really means—making impossible choices with incomplete information and hoping your people survive the consequences.
“Change of plans,” I bark, pulling out my secondary weapon and passing it to Theo. Despite his heat symptoms, his hands remain steady. Good. “Jinx, we need an exit strategy. Now.”
Jinx’s eyes gleam with feral purpose. “East corridor has weakest coverage. Six men, standard tactical formation.”
“Jinx leads, I follow with Finn. Theo, you’re our rear guard.” I assess each of them—Jinx vibrating with barely contained violence, Theo fighting both heat and fear, Finn’s consciousness fading in and out. “We move fast, we move quiet, and we don’t stop until we hit the secondary location.”
“What about Cayenne and Mona?” Theo asks, voice strained as he battles his omega biology.
The question cuts deeper than it should. I made the call to let her go with Mona, and now that decision could cost us everything. “We follow protocol. Leave the Ducati as backup transport and proceed to secondary extraction.”
“And if they don’t make it?” Jinx’s voice carries an edge I’ve rarely heard—something almost desperate beneath his usual chaos.
“They will.” I infuse the words with every ounce of alpha certainty I possess. “Cayenne is one of the most resourceful people I’ve ever met, and Mona is... well, Mona.”
A bullet shatters the SUV’s window, showering us with safety glass. Theo flinches but keeps his weapon trained on our perimeter.
“Time’s up,” I announce. “On my mark, we?—”
Finn convulses suddenly, back arching as fever ravages his system. Foam flecks his lips, eyes rolling back, his body fighting something it was never designed to withstand.
“Shit!” Jinx scrambles to hold him down, preventing him from injuring himself. “We need that booster now!”
“We need extraction now,” I correct grimly. “Or none of us will survive to need anything.”
The decision crystallizes with brutal clarity. “New plan. Jinx, create a diversion. Maximum chaos, eastern perimeter.”
His smile turns predatory. “My specialty.”
“And the mansion?” I add, knowing Sterling’s forces will strip our home of everything—research, weapons, every trace of us.
Jinx’s eyes flash with understanding. “Protocol Zero?”
I nod once. “Everything burns. Leave nothing for Sterling.”
“What about Cayenne?” Theo asks. “She doesn’t know all the extraction protocols yet.”
“She’s with Mona,” I remind him grimly. “And Mona knows every contingency plan we have—probably mapped them all her first day here. If anyone can navigate Cayenne to the secondary location, it’s her.’”
Jinx’s laughter carries that edge of mania that makes him so lethal. “Chaos in three minutes? I can give you apocalypse in two. With a side of cleansing fire.”
“Theo, you and I move Finn to the secondary vehicle.”
“What secondary vehicle?” Theo asks, confusion momentarily overriding heat symptoms.
I nod toward the maintenance shed barely visible through the trees. “Emergency protocol seventeen.”
Understanding flickers across his face. Despite everything, I feel a surge of pride—my pack learns fast.
“Three minutes,” I tell Jinx. “Then get your ass to the rendezvous point.”
He disappears into the underbrush without another sound, a predator in his natural element.
“Can Finn even survive transport?” Theo whispers, heat and fear making his voice raw as he looks down at our beta’s increasingly alarming condition.
I meet his gaze steadily. “We don’t have a choice.”
Exactly ninety seconds later, the night erupts to our east. The first explosion rocks the forest floor, followed by a series of smaller detonations. Shouts of confusion mix with automatic weapons fire.
“Jinx’s idea of subtlety,” I mutter. “Move.”
We half-drag, half-carry Finn toward the maintenance shed, every sense hyperaware of our surroundings. Theo’s pheromones thicken the air around us, leaving an omega scent trail behind us, but the more immediate danger keeps my alpha instincts in check—barely.
Inside the shed, beneath tarps and equipment, sits our insurance policy—an all-terrain vehicle with reinforced plating and enough horsepower to outrun anything Sterling could deploy in these woods.
“Get him secured in the back,” I order, throwing off the remaining camouflage. “Medical kit under the rear seat.”
Theo moves with grace despite his heat symptoms, carefully arranging Finn in the reinforced cargo area. I hit the ignition, the engine purring to life with deceptive quietness.
“Where’s Jinx?” Theo asks, scanning the treeline.
“Creating his masterpiece.” I check my watch. “He’s got twenty-seven seconds.”
The wait stretches into an eternity, each second heavy with the knowledge that we’re leaving two pack members behind. The weight of command sits like lead in my chest—the burden of making choices that might save most of us at the cost of some.
This is the part they never taught in tactical training, the part that keeps alphas awake long after missions end. Every command decision carves another scar into you—invisible to others but felt with every breath.
Cayenne’s absence burns like a physical wound, her determination to go back for Mona both infuriating and achingly admirable. It’s exactly what I would have done. What any of us would have done.
Pack doesn’t leave pack behind.
But sometimes being in command means making the impossible choice between bad and worse, between who you can save now and who you have to trust will find their way back. The only thing worse than leaving them is the knowledge that if I’d ordered differently, if I’d insisted Cayenne follow protocol instead of chasing after Mona, she might be here right now. Safe. But she wouldn’t be Cayenne—the stubborn, brilliant beta who never follows orders she disagrees with. The woman who’s rewritten every expectation since she collided into our lives.
“Movement,” Theo warns, raising his weapon.
A shadow detaches from the treeline, moving too fast for normal human locomotion. Jinx hits the side of the vehicle at full sprint, vaulting into the passenger seat with inhuman grace.
“Drive,” he pants, blood spattering his grinning face. “Like yesterday.”
I don’t waste time asking questions. The ATV surges forward, tires grabbing forest soil as we accelerate away from the extraction zone. Behind us, fresh explosions rock the night, screams cutting through darkness.
“What did you do?” Theo asks, checking on Finn as the vehicle jostles over rough terrain.
Jinx’s laugh borders on psychotic. “Repurposed their own munitions. Theatrical, but effective.” He holds up his phone, displaying a countdown timer. “And I rigged the mansion. Full Protocol Zero. Three minutes until nothing remains but ashes.”
“What about Cayenne and Mona?” Theo asks, alarm flashing across his face. “If they go back?—”
“Left them the Ducati away from the blast radius,” Jinx answers. “Keys in the ignition, position marked with our signal. And I set charges to route them away from the mansion, toward the secondary exit.”
Some of the tension eases from Theo’s shoulders. “You thought of everything.”
“I’m not just a pretty face,” Jinx quips, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s watching the timer on his phone with grim satisfaction.
I navigate through dense forest, years of tactical training guiding my choices. The secondary extraction point is twenty-three miles north—an old hunting cabin converted into a safehouse with enough supplies and medical equipment to stabilize Finn until we can reunite with Cayenne and Mona.
“How’s he doing?” I ask, keeping my eyes on our path.
Theo’s hands move over Finn’s burning skin, administering the limited medications from our emergency kit. “Worse. Fever’s climbing, and his breathing is becoming irregular. The patterns on his skin are spreading.”
I glance back briefly, seeing the strange mottling creeping up Finn’s neck—like his body is physically fighting the virus’s attempt to rewrite him.
“He needs that booster,” Jinx says quietly, rage vibrating beneath his controlled tone.
The unspoken truth hangs between us—without Mona’s treatment, Finn might not survive the next twelve hours.
As we approach the edge of the property, Jinx’s finger moves to his phone screen. “Detonation in thirty seconds,” he announces, initiating the sequence remotely.
Exactly as promised, a distant rumble shakes the earth behind us, followed by a flash that momentarily turns night to day. Jinx’s phone displays a simple message: Protocol Zero complete.
“Everything Burns,” he whispers, satisfaction and loss warring in his voice.
“The mansion,” Theo murmurs, a tremor in his voice. “Our home...”
“Just a building,” I remind him, though the loss cuts deeper than I want to admit. That mansion had become more than a safehouse—it had become our sanctuary, the place where five broken people had started to heal together.
“All those books,” Finn mumbles suddenly, briefly conscious. “My research...”
“We’ll build again,” I promise, though where and how remains an open question.
We fall silent as the vehicle eats up distance, each lost in our own thoughts. The pack bond feels stretched and thin—like wire pulled almost to breaking point. I can sense Theo and Jinx beside me, their presence bright and immediate, and Finn’s fading pulse behind us, but Cayenne...
I should have bonded her, anchored her to us more firmly when I had the chance.
“Can you feel her?” I ask Jinx quietly, knowing his connection to Cayenne runs as deep as mine.
“Barely,” he answers, jaw tight. “Like trying to hear someone underwater.”
“She made her choice,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “Going back for Mona.”
“Would you have done different?” Jinx challenges, eyes gleaming in the darkness.
I don’t answer. We both know I wouldn’t. For any of them.
The cabin appears through the trees—small, nondescript, easily defensible. Built from weathered logs with narrow windows and a metal roof, it blends into the surrounding forest like it’s been there for centuries. As I cut the engine, the silence feels oppressive, broken only by Finn’s labored breathing.
“Get him inside,” I order. “I’ll secure the perimeter.”
They move with practiced efficiency despite exhaustion and injury. This is what we’ve been training for—survival when everything goes to hell.
Inside, the cabin’s sparse furnishings include medical supplies and essential equipment. The musty scent of disuse mixes with pine and old leather, the space small but functional with a stone fireplace dominating one wall. Theo immediately sets up a treatment area for Finn, hooking him to the emergency oxygen we keep stocked, while Jinx establishes security protocols.
I check my encrypted phone—no signal from our missing pack members. The satellite link shows activity at the mansion has ceased completely, Sterling’s forces withdrawing from what remains of our sanctuary.
“They’ve cleared out,” I inform the others. “Mansion’s gone. Nothing left for them to find.”
Theo looks up, devastation crossing his beautiful features. “Everything we built...”
“Is just things,” I remind him gently. “The pack is what matters.”
But even as I say it, the absence of Cayenne and Mona echoes through the space like a physical presence. Everything about this feels wrong—pack separated, home lost, future uncertain.
Finn’s condition deteriorates over the next few hours. His breathing turns shallow, skin mottled with strange patterns that spread visibly across his chest and up his neck. The virus is moving faster now, as if sensing its window of opportunity is closing.
By midnight, his fingertips have taken on a bluish tinge, his body fighting a war it wasn’t designed to win.
Theo’s heat intensifies despite his desperate efforts to control it, pheromones filling the cabin with a scent that makes my alpha instincts howl. It takes every ounce of discipline not to respond, not to claim what biology insists should be mine.
“What now?” Jinx asks in a rare moment of uncertainty, his usual manic energy subdued by exhaustion and worry.
The question hangs between us, weighted with everything we’ve lost and everything still at stake.
“We hold,” I decide. “Establish defensive perimeter, stabilize Finn as best we can with what we have, and wait for them to reach us.”
“And if they don’t come?” Theo voices the fear none of us want to acknowledge.
“They will.” I don’t allow doubt into my tone. Pack needs certainty right now, not my fears. “Cayenne is Sterling smart and pack trained. And Mona is...”
“A fucking chaos demon with a PhD,” Jinx finishes with a grim smile.
Finn’s monitor beeps an urgent warning—oxygen levels dropping, heart rate erratic.
“He needs that booster,” Theo whispers, pressing a cool cloth to Finn’s forehead. “Soon.”
I move to the window, staring into the darkness beyond our temporary sanctuary. Somewhere out there, two pieces of our pack are fighting their own battles. Carrying the one thing that might save Finn. Racing against time and enemies to find their way back to us.
The satellite phone chirps—one message, heavily encrypted.
My heart stutters as I decode it: Secondary asset secured. Proceeding to rendezvous point. Phoenix Protocol initiated.
“Is it them?” Theo asks, hope cracking through his heat-strained voice.
I nod once, relief washing through me like a physical force. “Phoenix Protocol. They’re alive and heading here.”
“With the booster?” Jinx demands, already preparing to leave, to meet them halfway.
“Unknown.” I pocket the device. “Message was minimal for security.”
Finn convulses again, the seizure more violent than before. When it passes, his breathing comes in shallow gasps, skin taking on a deeper bluish tinge that spreads visibly beneath his skin.
“How much time does he have?” I ask quietly when Theo rejoins us. His heat scent has intensified despite the crisis, his body fighting both biological imperatives and emotional distress simultaneously.
Theo’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Hours, maybe. The oxygen’s helping, but his body is fighting something it can’t beat.” He presses a trembling hand to his abdomen, wincing. “And my heat won’t wait much longer. Once we stabilize Finn and reunite with Cayenne, we’ll need to address it. All of us, together.”
“Will he last until they arrive?” Jinx asks, the question stripped of his usual bravado.
The truth claws at my throat. I don’t know. None of us do. This virus is an unknown entity, and without Mona’s expertise, we’re operating blind.
But what I do know is this—pack doesn’t abandon pack. Not ever.
“We hold position,” I say firmly, the alpha in me rising to meet the challenge. “Secure the perimeter, stabilize Finn with everything we have, and prepare for their arrival.”
Jinx nods, already moving to reinforce our defenses. Theo focuses on keeping Finn’s fever under control. And I stand watch, eyes scanning the darkness beyond our temporary sanctuary.
As the night deepens around us, something strengthens in the pack bond—a distant but unmistakable pulse of determination. Cayenne. Our connection may be stretched, but it isn’t broken.
Beyond these walls, Sterling’s forces hunt us. Finn fights for his life against an engineered virus. Theo battles biology itself. And somewhere in the chaos, Cayenne and Mona race against time to reach us with the one thing that might save us all.
This isn’t defeat. This isn’t even retreat.
This is pack, adapting. Surviving. Finding its way back together against impossible odds.
And when we reunite—because we will reunite—Roman Sterling will learn exactly what happens when you threaten what’s mine.
Every. Last. Piece.