Page 71 of Reckless: Chaos

“Just like this one’s about to be.” Aria’s handslipsagain.

The scream this time carries surrender, and I can’t help but admire how terrifying she looks—all pink hair and delicate features, like some kind of torture fairy wielding salon implements instead of a wand. The blood on her perfect manicure should look out of place.

It doesn’t.

“The program,” he gasps, eyeing her hands like they’re loaded weapons. Which, fair. “It’s embedded in Sterling Labs’ security systems. Every time someone tries to breach them, it attaches to their signal like a... like a parasite.”

“Tracks them home?” Cayenne’s voice could freeze hell.

“Worse.” He flinches as Aria hums and reaches for her kit again. “It infects every system they touch after that. Creates a web. The more you hack, the more it spreads, until?—”

“Until every beta I tried to help led him right to them.” The temperature in the room drops with her words.

“Like digital breadcrumbs,” Ginger muses, still recording. “Or a trail of bodies.”

“Speaking of bodies,” Aria selects a particularly wicked-looking cuticle tool. “I’m thinking this nail needs reshaping. Unless there’s more you’d like to share?”

“The warehouse!” The words burst out of him. “On Thirteenth Street. That’s where they’re keeping the core server. The one controlling the program. Please—” He eyes the tool in her hands. “That’s all I know. I swear.”

“Pinky swear?” Aria asks sweetly. “Oh wait...”

I actually laugh at that one. Can’t help it. There’s just something beautiful about watching someone elevate torture into performance art.

“Take the girls outside,” Cayenne orders, her voice carrying steel that wasn’t there an hour ago. “I need one more minute with our friend.”

“Cayenne...” Ryker’s tone carries warning.

“Just one question.” She doesn’t look away from our prisoner. “About dear old dad.”

Something in her voice makes me step closer, protective instincts warring with curiosity.

One wrong move and he is dead. Hell if he even blinks at her wrong I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head.

“Let’s go plan our podcast launch,” Aria chirps, but she squeezes Cayenne’s shoulder as she passes. Understanding passing between them.

“Don’t forget to get his good side,” Ginger waves her phone as Ryker herds them out. “Lighting’s everything for true crime content.”

Once the door closes, Cayenne leans forward, all pretense of drunk party girl evaporating. “Tell me something. Did he know? When my mother ran—did he know she was pregnant?”

The prisoner’s laugh holds no humor. “Why do you think she had to run?”

The truth hits her like a bullet. I can smell it in her scent—the moment everything she thought she knew shatters and reforms.

She stands, smoothing her shirt with steady hands that betray none of the turmoil I can smell rolling off her. “Thank you for the confirmation.”

“You’re just like him, you know.” The prisoner calls after her. “The way you think. The way you?—”

The door slams so hard the hinges crack. Not from me closing it. From me throwing him—chair and all—into it.

“Jinx!” Ryker’s voice barely penetrates the red haze descending. “We need him alive.”

Need is such a strong word.

Metal screeches as I rip the chair leg free, taking zip ties and probably some skin with it. The prisoner’s scream cuts off as my hand finds his throat.

“The way she thinks?” My laugh probably isn’t helping Ryker’s concerns about my stability. “Let me tell you how she thinks.”

The bones in his throat feel so fragile under my fingers. Like I could just...squeeze.

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