Page 62 of Reckless: Chaos

I fucking break.

Not the quiet, controlled tears from earlier. Not the calculated show of vulnerability for the pack. This is ugly crying, the kind that comes with hiccups and snot and sounds that barely qualify as human.

“I’ve got you,” Willow whispers, and then Aria and Ginger are there too, all of us somehow fitting in this tiny space between bed and wall.

“What did they do?” Ginger demands, but Aria shushes her, fingers working through my hair like she does at the salon when I’m stressed.

“Later,” Aria says. “Right now we cry. Then we plot murder.”

A laugh bubbles up through my tears. “I missed you guys so fucking much.”

“Clearly.” Ginger eyes my eyebrows. “What the hell happened here? Did you get in a fight with your tweezers?”

“Leave her alone,” Willow scolds, but she’s smiling. “Though really, sweetie, we need to talk about this trend.”

“I stress-plucked,” I admit into Willow’s shoulder. “It’s been... a week.”

“Weeks of radio silence,” Aria’s tone carries an edge. “Quinn told us about the shooting, but that’s all we got. We’ve been going crazy.”

“Shot?” Ginger’s voice rises to a pitch that probably hurts dog ears. “What the actual fuck?”

Fresh tears spill over as everything hits at once—the shooting, the betrayal, the weight of all the secrets I’ve been carrying. My girls gather closer, creating a fortress of familiar scents and unconditional love.

“Start at the beginning,” Willow says gently. “And don’t leave anything out. Especially the part about why you’re clutching that hat like it’s life support.”

“It’s so stupid,” I manage between hiccups. “He made it for me. Jinx. The feral alpha who’s probably killed people but remembers how to knit.”

“The same feral alpha who helped get you shot?” Ginger’s PR polish cracks, letting her street edge show through.

“Actually, no I took a bullet for Theo.” I stare at the hat, at the perfectly even stitches. “Before everything went to hell. Before they decided I needed to be protected from my own fight.”

“Back up.” Willow uses her omega counselor voice, the one that gets even the most traumatized survivors to open up. “We know about the lockdown—hell, I’m the one who ordered it. We know about Sterling Labs targeting betas. But what happened last night?”

The hat blurs through fresh tears. “They took my drive. The one with everything on it. And Theo...” A sob catches in my throat. “God, I’m so stupid. He seduced me to keep me distracted while they tried to hack it.”

“He what?” Aria’s salon-perfect nails dig into my arm.

“They tried to hack my drive without me,” I clarify, which only makes Aria’s grip tighten.

“No, back up to the seduction part.” Her voice carries that dangerous edge it gets when she’s remembering her own past. “The omega seduced you as a distraction?”

“While they went to Quinn’s secure facility.” The words taste like ash. “Which is now burned because they couldn’t crack my encryption and apparently attracted attention and there was shooting and blood and?—”

“Breathe,” Willow orders, pulling me closer. “Just breathe.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Ginger announces with the same tone she uses to schedule press conferences. “Slowly. With their own pretentious coffee equipment.”

“You’ll have to get in line,” Aria mutters, still working tangles from my hair with deceptively gentle fingers. “I can’t believe Quinn was in on this.”

“Oh my god.” I sit up so fast I nearly headbutt Willow. “Quinn. He’s been feeding them information this whole time, hasn’t he? About the betas, about the drive...”

“Honey, Quinn’s been feeding everyone information,” Ginger says with a hint of pride. “It’s kind of his job. Our job. The whole reason we set up this network.”

“Which these alphas seem to think they can just muscle their way into.” Aria’s fingers still in my hair.

I stare at my girls—really look at them for the first time since they burst in. Willow, who runs omega guardians looks like she is thriving. Flushed cheeks and clear eyes. Aria, who turned her salon into a safe space for Omegas much like Theo. Ginger, who manages the public face of Omega Guardians while buried in PR firms.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” I whisper. “Sitting here playing house while you’re all still fighting. Still saving lives.”

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