Page 31 of Reckless: Chaos

“No explosions. No energy drinks in the filling. No experimental spices.” Ryker ticks off each point like he’s reading from a well-used list, each item weighted with the history of previous kitchen disasters. His commanding tone carries the resignation of someone who’s had this conversation too many times. “And absolutely no ghost peppers.”

“That was one time,” Jinx mutters, hands already twitching with the need to create something, to fix this the only way he knows how. The frayed edges of his hoodie tell a story of hours spent stress-chewing while I was in surgery.

“You sent three alphas to the hospital,” Finn remarks without looking up from his chess board, but his lips curve slightly. “The emergency room staff still asks about your recipe.”

“They said they could handle it.”

“Out,” Finn’s voice drops to a tone that brooks no argument. “All of you. Our patient needs rest, not an audience.”

Theo hesitates at my bedside, his fingers still ghosting over the bandages. “But?—”

“I’ve got her.” Finn’s tone brooks no argument. “Go make your cupcakes. Real ones,” he adds as Jinx opens his mouth. “With sugar. Not everything needs to be tactical, James.”

The use of his real name makes Jinx snap his jaw shut with an audible click. He turns on his heel and stalks out, Theo trailing in his wake after one last worried glance.

Ryker lingers at the foot of my bed, radiating disapproval. “If she shows any signs of?—”

“I know how to monitor post-operative patients,” Finn interrupts smoothly. “And when to call for help. Go make sure Jinx doesn’t turn my kitchen into a war zone.”

The alpha’s jaw works for a moment before he gives a sharp nod and follows the others.

In the sudden quiet, I blink at Finn. “Your kitchen?”

His smile carries secrets. “Who do you think keeps this place running while they’re all having feelings at each other?”

The laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Indeed.” He moves a white pawn with deliberate grace. “Now, shall we discuss the fundamental flaws in your strategic thinking?”

“I have excellent strategic thinking.” I wiggle deeper into my pillow mountain, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my shoulder scream. “I just also have excellent heroic instincts.”

“Heroic.” Finn’s voice stays mild, but his fingers pause on the bishop. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Hey, your words are starting to sound like my words. That’s not fair when I’m high.”

His smile deepens the creases around his eyes. “Then perhaps you should focus on the board rather than my word choice.”

“Perhaps you should focus on not sounding like a fortune cookie.”

“The student questions the master.” He makes his move with devastating precision. “Even while displaying a concerning lack of self-preservation instincts.”

I try to focus on the pieces, but they keep swimming in and out like a bad internet connection. “Taking a bullet for someone isn’t a lack of self-preservation. It’s just...” I trail off, not sure how to explain the clarity of that moment. The absolute certainty.

“Just?” He prompts gently.

“Math.” I say finally. “Simple probability. Theo’s smaller than me. The shot would have hit something vital. I’m bigger, and I saw the angle. Calculated risk.”

Finn’s hands go still on the board. When I dare to look up, his eyes are fierce behind his glasses.

“What?” I ask, suddenly uncertain.

“You did trajectory calculations while diving in front of a bullet?”

“I mean, when you say it like that it sounds weird.”

His laugh comes out choked. “Oh, darling. You are something else entirely.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve had to do quick math in a crisis.” I try to reach for a pawn but my hand isn’t quite cooperating. “Did you know you can calculate the exact speed needed to clear security laser grids? It’s all about timing and trajectory. Like a really high-stakes game of jump rope.”

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