7. Quinn

7

QUINN

I stand outside the glossy glass facade of Scent Synergy, my packmates beside me. The morning air is crisp, but the chill barely registers against the nervous energy thrumming through my veins.

Zane paces back and forth, agitation rippling off him in waves of smoky alpha pheromones. Malachi is motionless, but the rigid set of his jaw gives away his tension, his usually cool scent tinged with a sharp edge. Dash fidgets with his jacket zipper, his sunny aroma muted and uncertain.

“Alright, guys, reality check time,” Dash mutters, breaking the uneasy silence that’s hung over us since we left the house. “Are we seriously about to pull a rom-com grand gesture here? I’m pretty sure Aria’s more likely to pepper spray us than swoon.”

Malachi nods, his voice firm and steady. “We need answers, and if Aria’s here, then we owe it to her to try to make things right. We need to be strategic, not just reactive. Our actions now will shape our future with Aria—if we have one at all.”

I inhale deeply, steeling myself against the uncertainty gnawing at my resolve. “Let’s go.”

We step into the lobby, and the sterile scent of the building hits us like a wall—clean, clinical, and devoid of any warmth. Our alpha instincts bristle at the unnatural absence of scent, but the absence of something else, something familiar that should be here, is more unsettling.

The absence of Aria’s scent hits us like a punch to the gut.

Zane’s voice breaks the heavy silence. “She isn’t here, but we’re her mates. That has to mean something, even if she doesn’t want it to. The bond doesn’t lie.”

I notice it too—the distinct lack of Aria’s sweet orange creamsicle scent. It’s a hollow ache, the reality of our strained bond settling uncomfortably in my chest. Of course she wouldn’t be here. After everything we put her through, why would she want to face us?

Code is simple. People? Not so much, but I’ve never backed down from a complex problem before.

A chipper receptionist greets us, her practiced smile bright and unflinching as she guides us to a conference room. Her beta scent is carefully neutral, barely detectable beneath layers of scent blockers. Moments later, Dr. Reeves enters, his expression radiating excitement that feels out of place against the tension in the room.

“Gentlemen,” he begins, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Your match with Aria is truly exceptional. The compatibility metrics are nearly unprecedented.”

I lean forward, letting curiosity push back the sting of Aria’s absence. My tech savvy side perks up at the mention of metrics. “What exactly does that mean? Unprecedented compatibility? Sounds like we hit the cosmic jackpot.” Too bad the universe forgot to ask Aria if she wanted to play.

Dr. Reeves leans forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Gentlemen, what we’re seeing here is extraordinary. The genetic compatibility between you and Aria is off the charts.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Well,” Dr. Reeves continues, “your pheromone synchronization is in the ninety-nineth percentile. The allelic matching on key bonding genes is nearly perfect. We’re talking about a level of compatibility that occurs in less than 0.01% of the population.”

Malachi’s jaw tightens. “And what does this mean for Aria?”

Dr. Reeves beams, oblivious to our growing discomfort. “It means, Alpha Malachi, that your connection to Aria is more than just a standard mate bond. It’s a rare, profound link that could potentially amplify your pack’s strengths exponentially.”

Zane shifts in his seat, his shoulders slumping. “Does Aria know about this? Did she consent to any of this?”

“That’s… a complex issue,” Dr. Reeves hedges. “But from a biological standpoint, this bond is already forming, whether any of you consciously chose it or not.”

The air grows thick with our mingled emotions—anxiety, guilt, and a confusing mix of hope and dread. It’s clear that this is more than we bargained for, and the weight of what it means for Aria and us settles heavily in the room.

I feel it through our bond. The emotional wave rolls through each of us, merging all four of us together, and for the first time in a long time, we all feel the same.

Dash cuts in, his voice rough with frustration, his usual carefree demeanor nowhere to be seen. “That’s great and all, but where is she? Why isn’t she here?”

Dr. Reeves’s smile wavers, and his scent shifts, betraying his discomfort. “Ah, well… Aria was here earlier today. She was… not particularly pleased about the match.”

The silence that follows is heavy, laden with unspoken regret. Zane clenches his fists, and Malachi looks like he’s about to punch a wall. I can practically feel the weight of our collective guilt pressing down on us, our scents souring with shame and disappointment.

“There’s more,” Dr. Reeves continues cautiously. “Aria’s status is… complicated. She’s unregistered and refuses to register, and given the strength of your match, there could be legal repercussions.”

Zane’s growl rumbles through the room, his alpha instincts flaring defensively. The scent of smoke and leather intensifies, filling the air with his protective anger. “What kind of repercussions?”

Dr. Reeves clears his throat, adjusting his glasses as if trying to buy himself time. “The Omega Registration Act is going into effect at the end of the month. All unregistered omegas are required to register and be matched, or there could be legal penalties. The law aims to categorize and regulate omegas for… safety and societal stability.” He hesitates, gauging our reactions before continuing. “If Aria remains unregistered, she risks fines, or worse, mandatory bonding.”

“Mandatory bonding?” Dash snaps, his voice as sharp as a knife. “Are you saying they could force her into a bond because she didn’t register? That’s insane.”

“She was furious,” Dr. Reeves admits with a strained chuckle, his voice losing some of its professional detachment. “I tried to explain that it isn’t just about the match, but about compliance with the law. All omegas will now have the last name Omega, and she… well, she didn’t take kindly to that.”

The realization slams into me like a freight train. Aria didn’t put herself in this mess, someone else did. Someone submitted her information without her consent. I can practically see the moment it clicks for Malachi and Zane too. Their scents shift to something darker tinged with anger and protectiveness. This isn’t just about a match, it’s about control, and Aria’s right in the crosshairs.

“We should go,” I say suddenly, cutting through Dr. Reeves’s explanation. The others turn to me, startled by the abruptness, and their scents spike with surprise. “Aria clearly doesn’t want to be here. We should respect that.”

Malachi’s eyes search mine, and after a moment, he nods, his scent settling into something calmer. “We have what we needed. Let’s regroup and figure out our next steps.”

We thank Dr. Reeves and leave the suffocating confines of Scent Synergy, the rush of fresh air outside a welcome relief.

The city’s hum is a sharp contrast to the stifling silence of the conference room, but it does little to lift the tension still clinging to us. The mix of scents—car exhaust, street food, and countless strangers—is almost overwhelming after the sterile environment we just left.

“So what now?” Dash asks, running a hand through his hair, his frustration simmering just below the surface. His scent is sharp, tinged with a bitterness that’s so unlike him.

Zane resumes pacing, his agitation building with every step. Waves of his smoky scent roll off him, making the air feel thick and heavy. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing. She’s our mate. We need to protect her, especially with these legal issues hanging over her head.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Malachi challenges, his tone measured but firm. His cool, authoritative scent cuts through Zane’s agitation. “By forcing our way back into her life? We already made that mistake once.”

I watch them argue, my mind racing for a solution that doesn’t feel like a trap. There has to be a way to help Aria without pushing her further away.

“Let’s run a background process. Support without system overload,” I suggest, the words forming as if they are the simplest truth. The others turn to me, their expressions showing skepticism and hope. Their scents shift, curiosity overriding frustration. I roll my eyes at them and explain in simpler terms. “We show her that we’ve learned from our mistakes through our actions.”

Malachi nods slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought. His scent softens, approval mixing with consideration. “It’s a start, but we can’t afford any more missteps. One wrong move, and we could lose her for good.”

As we part ways, each of us lost in our own thoughts, I can’t shake the image of Aria navigating this nightmare alone. The need to do something, anything, presses against my ribs like a vise. An idea takes root, uncertain but persistent. It’s risky, but if it works…

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the one I need. I have skills and resources. If I can’t reach out to Aria directly, then maybe I can help her from afar.

It’s time to put this big brain to use for something other than hacking and video games.

I find a secluded spot, my fingers flying over my phone as I search for a back door into Scent Synergy’s system. The challenge of breaking in sends a thrill through me, providing a welcome distraction from the heavy emotions weighing us down. I dive deeper, navigating through firewalls and security protocols, every successful bypass a small victory.

Scent Synergy’s defenses are formidable. Each layer I peel back reveals another that’s more complex than the last. It’s like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube that keeps adding new sides. My usual tricks fall flat, and I’m met with error messages and lockouts at every turn.

Frustration builds, my scent sharpening with irritation. I’m not just hacking a system, I’m digging for the truth buried beneath layers of deceit. Whoever submitted Aria’s information did so with purpose, and I’m going to find out who it was.

Unfortunately, I get kicked out at every turn. I need my computers and home office.

The thought of sitting in a room alone doesn’t have the same dopamine effect it usually does.

You know who could help… Cayenne.

Would she even answer, or does she hate me too much to care?

I dial her number anyway, my heart thudding as the line rings. When she picks up, her voice is sharp and guarded. “Quinn? What do you want?”

I take a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Hey, Cayenne. I need a favor. I think someone put Aria’s information into Scent Synergy without her consent, and I need access to the back channels of their database to figure out who did it.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost feel her weighing whether or not to trust me. “Why should I help you?”

“Because Aria deserves to know the truth,” I say, urgency clear in my tone. “We’ve made mistakes, but this isn’t just about us. She’s caught in something she never asked for, and I want to help make it right.”

Cayenne’s silence stretches on, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her mind. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, laced with concern and curiosity. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

“More than I ever thought possible,” I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “We all do, and we royally screwed things up, but this… this is bigger than our pack drama. Someone’s trying to manipulate her life, and I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Alright, Quinn. I’ll help. Not for you or your pack though—for Aria.”

Relief washes over me, my shoulders sagging as the tension I’d been holding eases. “Thank you, Cayenne. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, her tone sharpening. “This isn’t going to be easy. Scent Synergy’s security is no joke. We’re going to need to set up a secure connection. Can you get to your home office?”

I glance at my watch, calculating. “Yeah, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Good. I’ll remote in once you’re set up, and Quinn?” Her voice softens. “Be careful. If someone’s targeting Aria, they might not take kindly to us poking around.”

Relief floods me. “I’ll be careful. Thank you, Cayenne.”

As the call ends, I feel the weight of the plan settle over me. It’s a chance to make things right—a small step toward showing Aria that we’re trying. For the first time in weeks, it feels like we might actually have a shot at doing just that.

Tomorrow, I’ll present the idea to the pack. We’ll need to tread carefully and make sure we aren’t overstepping, but for now, I feel like we might actually have a shot at making things right.

The city buzzes around me, a symphony of scents and sounds, but all I can think about is Aria—her smile, her strength, the way her orange creamsicle scent lingers in my memory. We have a long way to go, but I’m ready for the challenge.

As I stare at my phone, the weight of what I’m about to do settles over me. This plan could be our salvation or our downfall. If I fail, I might not just lose Aria, but also tear apart the pack in the process.

Am I ready to carry that responsibility, and can I live with myself if I don’t try?

I realize I don’t think I can. Time to dive into the digital deep end and see what bytes we can catch.