Page 45 of Conall (The Sunburst Pack #3)

T HE LABORATORY SMELLED OF death and burned electronics, but Conall forced himself to focus on the living.

Through the mate bond, he felt the complex storm still churning beneath Nadine’s professional mask—grief, relief, fury, and something darker that might have been satisfaction. The connection between them had blazed back to life, but now it carried undertones he was still learning to interpret.

We need to search this place systematically, Nadine said, her voice steady despite the tears she’d shed moments before. Gregory was meticulous about documentation. If there are other Prometheus Group operations, other assets still in place, the intelligence will be here.

Quinton moved to the bank of computers lining the laboratory’s far wall. These systems are still active. Military-grade encryption, but nothing Anders hasn’t taught us to handle.

I know Gregory’s methods, Nadine said, approaching a different terminal. He always used the same security protocols, the same organizational structure. He thought consistency was a strength.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard with the confidence of someone who’d been trained by the man whose secrets she was now pillaging.

Watching her work, Conall felt a complex mixture of admiration and sorrow through their bond—she was brilliant at this, but the skills had been taught by the father who’d ultimately betrayed her.

It would take time for her to sort through her emotional response to his death.

Here, she said after several minutes of concentrated effort. Personnel files for Prometheus Group operatives. Looks like Gregory recruited heavily from former Chimera assets, military contractors, and… Her voice trailed off as she scrolled through the list.

And what? Conall asked, moving closer to read over her shoulder.

Pack members, she said grimly. Shifters who’d become disillusioned with democratic leadership. Gregory called them ‘ideological converts’—people who genuinely believed authoritarian hierarchy was necessary for species survival.

Not just outsiders infiltrating pack communities, but pack members themselves choosing to betray their families in service of Gregory’s vision.

How many? Quinton asked from his own terminal, where he was downloading communication logs.

Dozens across fifteen different packs. Nadine’s voice carried the flat tone of someone reporting intelligence. Most of them in communications, security, or medical positions. Perfect placement for intelligence gathering and asset creation.

We need Anders, Conall said, reaching for his secure phone. “This is bigger than the three of us can handle.

Anders, we’ve secured the facility, Conall said when the lead guardian answered. But we’ve uncovered something much larger than we expected. We need a full team and technical support. Now.

Status on Gregory? Anders asked.

Conall glanced at the cooling body. Neutralized. Permanently.

Good. I’ll dispatch a team immediately. What kind of intelligence are we looking at?

Everything. Gregory’s entire network—he called it the Prometheus Group.

Operative locations, asset lists, communication protocols.

Conall watched Nadine work, noting the increasing tension in her shoulders as she uncovered the full scope of her father’s conspiracy.

We’re going to need every available resource to roll up this network before they realize Gregory’s been compromised.

ETA one hour, Anders said. Hold position and secure everything you can.

As Conall ended the call, Quinton let out a low whistle from his workstation. Con, you need to see this. Nadine, you too. Make that especially you.

They gathered around Quinton’s screen, where he’d pulled up what appeared to be a technical manual. The title made Conall’s blood run cold: Omicron Protocol: Implementation and Control Procedures.

Quinton began scrolling through the document.

This is Chimera’s. It’s a complete instruction manual for simultaneous activation of neural interfaces across multiple territories.

Behavioral override commands, psychological manipulation protocols, even codes for the kill switches for assets who resist programming.

Nadine’s face had gone pale as she read. Gregory was ready for this. Mass activation would have given him direct power over leadership in dozens of packs simultaneously.

When? Conall asked, dreading the answer.

According to the timeline, Quinton said, highlighting a section of the document, full implementation was scheduled for next week. The attacks on other packs weren’t just elimination—they were clearing potential resistance before the protocol activated.

So was he working for or against Chimera? Conall asked.

He was working for himself, Nadine said. Using both Chimera’s implants and his own people’s improvements on those implants. He didn’t care how he got control of shifters, as long as he ended up in charge.

The mate bond carried Nadine’s horror as the full scope of what they’d barely prevented sank in. If they’d been even days later, if Gregory had succeeded in reprogramming her and sending her back to eliminate Conall, if the investigation had taken any other direction…

Can we stop it? Conall asked. Disable the system before Chimera—or anyone else—can activate it?

Nadine was already back at her terminal, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Gregory was paranoid about operational security.

The activation codes for his own chips would have been compartmentalized, known only to him and maybe one or two other Prometheus Group leaders.

But if I can access the central control system…

She worked in focused silence for several minutes while Conall and Quinton continued downloading intelligence files. The facility around them felt like a tomb—sterile, cold, haunted by the ghost of Gregory’s ambitions.

I’m in, Nadine said suddenly, triumph and relief coloring her voice.

The Prometheus Group’s central command structure, with a protocol linking their Omicron Protocol to Chimera’s.

The command structure is more sophisticated than anything Chimera ever developed, but it’s still fundamentally a computer system.

And I know how Gregory thinks. She paused for a second before correcting herself. How he thought.

What do you need? Quinton asked, moving to assist her.

The technical specifications Chimera developed for neural interface technology.

If I can reverse engineer the control protocols, introduce cascade failures into the system…

She paused, her face creasing with concentration.

It’s going to be dangerous. To disable something this sophisticated, I’ll need to interface directly with the system.

What does that mean? Conall asked warily.

Log in to it with my own implant.

Conall snarled, his wolf hovering just below the surface. No. Absolutely not. After what that thing did to you—

It’s the only way, Nadine said firmly. The neural interface Gregory implanted gives me the access I’ll need to reach the system’s core programming. I can introduce corrupted data directly into the network but only from inside.

The interface is still active? Quinton asked with obvious concern.

Yes. Gregory’s death disrupted some of the behavioral modification programming, but the technology itself is still functional.

Gregory frowned. Will that be true for everyone who has an implant?

Nadine’s hand moved unconsciously to her neck, where the injection site was barely visible. I assume so. I don’t know about anyone else, but I can feel it, like static at the edge of my thoughts.

Her discomfort permeated the mate bond—the constant low-level irritation of foreign technology integrated with her nervous system. But underneath it, Conall sensed something else: her determination to use Gregory’s final violation of her autonomy as a weapon against his conspiracy.

How long do we have? Conall asked.

Another forty minutes for Anders’s team to arrive.

But if any other Prometheus Group leaders realize Gregory is compromised, they might try to activate the protocol early.

Nadine was already connecting herself to the central command system, cables snaking from her terminal to the interface port Gregory had installed. This can’t wait.

What can we do? Quinton asked.

Monitor the download progress. If the cascade failure works, it should propagate through the entire network within minutes. But if something goes wrong, if the system tries to take control of the interface… She met Conall’s gaze. I’ll need you to physically disconnect me. Whatever the cost.

She was asking him to potentially kill her to prevent the Omicron Protocol from turning her into its primary weapon.

Oh, fuck no. Nadine—

Promise me, she said, her hand finding his. If I become a threat to pack safety, if the interface takes over, you’ll have to do what’s necessary.

She was willing to sacrifice herself to protect the shifter communities Gregory had targeted. The same selfless courage that had driven her to close their mate bond and face Gregory alone.

How could he do less?

I promise, he said, the words grinding like glass in his throat.

Nadine nodded and turned back to her terminal.

Beginning interface connection. Quinton, monitor system responses.

Conall… She paused, glancing at him one more time.

If this works, if we can stop the protocol, it means every asset Gregory placed will be free.

Dozens of shifters will remember who they really are.

Then she closed her eyes and activated the connection.

The change was immediate. Nadine’s body went rigid as the interface established its link to the Omicron Protocol’s control network. Conall felt her consciousness expand, touching digital pathways that carried the programming patterns of dozens of other minds.