Page 108

~JINX~

When the door opens, four pairs of eyes dart toward me with immediate assessment, their gazes shifting from relief to confusion as they register the Alpha obviously secured on my back and his frail state.

Corvus frowns with analytical precision while Sable steps forward ready to assist, but Riot throws his arms up protectively before demanding with territorial authority, "Who the hell is that Alpha?"

I roll my eyes at the predictable response, smirking as I pause at the entrance threshold.

"Maverick, meet the douchebags."

All four sets of eyes widen with recognition as understanding crystallizes regarding the voice that guided us through countless dangerous moments and tactical challenges.

"The voice from the transmitter," Corvus mutters with characteristic precision, analytical mind processing implications and connections with visible calculation.

My smile carries sadness alongside satisfaction as the truth settles across pack dynamics. "The voice from the transmitter."

Riot stares for a long minute with territorial assessment that weighs threat against assistance, pack protection against expansion possibilities. Finally, he nods with grudging acceptance.

"Good to see the face behind the fucker who's been talking to our Omega," he states with rough approval before signaling Sable and Ash to approach and assist with transfer.

The three Alphas move with coordinated efficiency to carefully lift Maverick from my back, their hands gentle despite obvious questions about his condition and presence within our formation.

Just as they secure him safely, the intercom crackles to life with electronic precision that cuts through atmospheric tension like blade through silk.

"Well, well," Press's voice carries smugness that transforms victory into continued manipulation. "You think you've succeeded in retrieving one of the many hidden gems in the Parazodiac."

His taunt continues with calculated cruelty designed to diminish our achievement and reassert administrative control despite obvious defeat.

"You're escaping when you threatened to bring this place down, Jinx. To burn it all away. I guess you failed at that objective, but no worries. My laboratory will always thrive."

Three wild explosions detonate in different directions with devastating force that shakes the ground beneath our feet and sends tremors through institutional architecture. Dust cascades from reinforced ceilings while emergency lighting activates to compensate for damaged electrical systems.

My smirk deepens as understanding flows regarding the true scope of planning and strategic preparation that extended beyond simple navigation or pack reunion.

"My intention was always to burn this place to the ground," I announce with satisfaction that acknowledges comprehensive victory rather than partial success. "But no one ever questioned whether I'd be the one to do it personally."

The revelation carries weight that transcends simple revenge to encompass strategic intelligence and operational complexity that exceeded administrative assessment and institutional preparation.

"Why would I do that when I could pass the responsibility to someone you ignore because she's not the typical Omega who would make you millions?"

Recognition dawns as memory surfaces regarding brief interaction and seemingly innocent contact during previous level navigation and tactical coordination.

"When I shook hands with female Omega Riot, pulling her up from that collapsed platform," I continue with growing satisfaction at successful misdirection and intelligence transfer, "no one noticed I placed a note in her palm containing the structural plans for the Parazodiac."

The admission transforms casual gesture into comprehensive intelligence operation and strategic sabotage that operated beyond institutional observation and administrative oversight.

"So I suggest that if you don't focus on damage control immediately," I add with predatory satisfaction at systematic reversal of power dynamics, "you'll be without a laboratory by dawn. Those were just the initial charges."

Press's cry echoes through electronic communication with desperation that replaces previous smugness and administrative confidence.

"What solutions do you want? What demands do you have?" His voice carries panic that acknowledges comprehensive defeat and institutional vulnerability despite previous assertions of control and systematic dominance.

But I'm already walking with my Alphas toward freedom, the men supporting Maverick as we advance toward exit portal and liberty that transcends institutional barriers and administrative manipulation.

"Whatever has a beginning always has an end," I call back with finality that acknowledges cycles of power and inevitable justice. "It'll be good to see you taken down by your own medicine by the one you least expect."

I look back one final time, taking in the view of institutional architecture that served as prison and testing ground, torture chamber and unlikely catalyst for pack formation that transcended original expectations and administrative objectives.

"Find the men destined for you and burn this place to the ground once and for all, Riot," I whisper with conviction that encompasses both instruction and prediction regarding future liberation and systematic destruction.

Then I turn away, knowing we're heading toward doors that represent more than simple escape—victory that validates every choice made and price paid for authentic connection and pack unity.

The Parazodiac's clutches release as we step into morning light that carries promise of freedom and futures built through choice rather than institutional assignment or administrative control.

The strongest bonds aren't forged in comfort, but in the crucible of impossible choices and shared sacrifice.

When the world tries to break what you've built, remember that love isn't just feeling—it's action, strategy, and the unwavering decision to return for those who matter, no matter the cost.

Sometimes the greatest rebellion isn't destroying your enemies, but saving your own.

F.I.N.