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Ethan could see Star’s brain short-circuiting. She blinked, and her head twitched. “This is a literal hacker-level bunker, and you can’t keep one trash panda out?”
Ethan, wheezing, leaned against the workstation. He tried to talk, but it came out in fits of laughter. “Baby, he wins every time. We’ve accepted it.”
Bethanie smirked. “He bypassed the last three security measures Ryan and Ethan installed.”
Star gawked at Bandit, who was now rummaging through a stack of strawberries, completely unbothered by the humans around him. “No. That can’t be feasible. I refuse to believe a raccoon can outwit you geniuses.”
His dad helped her down because Ethan was still trying to stop laughing and failing miserably. He clapped a hand on her shoulder and said, “You can try, but I’m pretty sure you’ll lose.”
Star shivered. “Oh, challenge accepted.” She elbowed Ethan.
“Stop.” Ethan tried, he really tried, but God, of all the things that had happened to Star, this was actually funny and non-life threatening.
Bethanie smiled at Star’s determined expression. “Go ahead. Try. It’ll be fun to watch.”
And that was exactly how Bethanie and Star ended up sitting side by side, devising plans for “Operation Relocate Bandit” while Ethan and his dad drank coffee and took bets on how long it would take for the raccoon to win again.
Ethan smirked as he watched Bethanie lean in toward Star, offering actual suggestions instead of just pretending to humor her.
His father nudged him under the table. “I’m glad you’re home, son.”
“So am I, Dad. So am I.”
Lycos lifted his cup and whispered, “I checked. There isn’t a fault line.”
Ethan lifted his coffee cup to cover his words. “So did I.”
EPILOGUE
Jinx leaned against the gnarled trunk of a towering pine. The cool bark rough against his back as he absently ran his fingers through the thick fur of Lycos’s three wolf-dogs. The old male let out a deep, contented groan and rolled to his side, exposing his belly to the late afternoon sun, while the youngest pup pounced playfully, nipping at his ears. The mother wolf-dog watched from a few feet away, her intelligent eyes flicking between Jinx and her offspring. She assessed him the way only an animal could, instinctively and without judgment. The other wolf must have stayed in the cave with his people. It didn’t wander too far from the cave when it was outside.
It had taken him over a month to track down the hidden entrance to Lycos’s home—an isolated fortress buried deep in the Colorado wilderness. He hadn’t found it through skill or training but by noticing the smallest anomaly—the faint displacement of pine needles where the wolf-dogs had passed, then vanished. A clue only someone attuned to the wild would have noticed.
Jinx smirked. His mentor would probably kill him if he knew he was that close. Lycos had rigged the entire mountain with sensors, cameras, and traps—each carefully designed to funnel intruders into areas covered by high-tech surveillance and lethal countermeasures. Genius. Jinx admired the setup. The kind of place he could see himself living. Remote. Controlled. Safe.
A home of his own.
The thought was fleeting, dismissed almost as quickly as it had formed. He had no roots. No attachments. Just an unexplainable connection to animals that had always come naturally. He understood them, and they, in turn, recognized something in him—something primal, silent, undeniable. He’d never questioned it too deeply. Just as he’d never questioned why that same ability to bond didn’t extend to people.
Brando’s voice crackled through his earpiece, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Jinx, you’re up.”
Jinx exhaled slowly, watching as the puppy lifted its head, ears perked. The little one tilted its head at the sound, studying him, sensing the shift. With mild amusement, he realized he’d never actually spoken around them. Animals didn’t rely on words. They read body language, intent, and presence. It was humans who complicated things with conversation.
“When?” His voice was calm, unreadable.
Brando’s response was immediate. “Briefing in six hours.”
Six hours. That meant he needed to move.
The trek off the mountain was painstakingly slow, every step deliberate, every movement measured. It took him four and a half hours to weave his way through Lycos’s layers of defenses, avoiding motion triggers, bypassing traps, and ensuring there wouldn’t be a single trace left behind when he was gone.
When he reached his vehicle, the sky had deepened to twilight, the first stars blinking through the cold, inky darkness. He drove, pushing the vehicle over rugged back roads until he reached a deserted scenic overlook. It was the kind of place tourists pulled into for a glimpse of the mountains before continuing their journey. But Jinx wasn’t there for the view.
He parked, killed the engine, and waited.
A few minutes later, his encrypted comm activated.