Page 83 of Reckless: Corruption

Chapter 17

Cayenne

The witching hourcomes with wind and shadows, the kind of darkness that feels alive as it wraps around us. Our small convoy moves without headlights, guided by night vision and Ryker’s uncanny sense of direction as we approach the Sterling research facility hidden deep in industrial wasteland.

The absence of Theo and Finn sits like a system error in my peripheral vision, the empty spaces in the SUV a reminder of what’s at stake. My fingers tap restless code sequences against my thigh—binary comfort patterns that surface whenever my anxiety subroutines kick in. Leaving them behind wasn’t a choice any of us wanted to make, but necessity dictated hard decisions tonight.

“How’s Theo holding up?” I ask quietly, needing connection to our absent packmates as much as information.

“Mona’s suppressant is keeping the worst at bay,” Ryker answers, eyes never leaving the road. “But he’s fighting biology and chemistry at once. The strain is...” He pauses, a rare moment of uncertainty from our normally unshakable alpha. “Significant.”

I nod, reading between the lines. Theo’s heat suppressant had bought us time, but forcing his omega biology to bendagainst its natural cycle for so long is like overclocking a CPU past safe limits. Even with Mona’s chemical genius, his symptoms have progressed too far for field work, the risk of having him near alphas in potential combat situations too great.

“And Finn?” I press, thinking of the beta’s pale face as he insisted on running comms despite the fever still burning through him.

“Stubborn,” Ryker says, a hint of fond exasperation coloring his tone. “The virus flared again this morning, but he refused medical rest. Said his brain still works even if his body’s rebelling.”

“That sounds like Finn,” Jinx chimes in from the backseat, his voice carrying that edge of barely contained energy. “Always the smartest guy in the room, even when he’s dying.”

“He’s not dying,” I snap, the words coming out sharper than intended.

Jinx’s hand appears on my shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “Course not, Glitch. Our beta’s too stubborn to check out before we finish this mission.”

The casual inclusion—our beta—settles something in my chest, a quiet acknowledgment of pack bonds strengthening despite distance.

“Comms check,” Finn’s voice crackles through our earpieces, steady despite the illness I know is burning through him. “Alpha team, confirm.”

“Alpha one, confirmed,” Ryker responds from the driver’s seat, his profile sharp and predatory in the dashboard’s dim glow. Every line of his body speaks of controlled violence waiting for purpose.

“Alpha two, good to go,” Jinx adds, voice carrying that particular edge that means his beast is close to the surface. He catches me watching him and flashes a feral grin, teeth gleamingunnaturally white in the darkness. “Ready to paint the walls, Glitch?”

“Alpha three, online,” I respond, ignoring his bloodthirsty enthusiasm while my stomach performs an involuntary flip at the nickname. “And no painting walls. This is recon and data retrieval. Clean and quiet, remember? Like running a zero-day exploit—in and out with no fingerprints.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouts, but the look in his eyes tells me he’s exactly where he wants to be—on the hunt with his pack.

“Omega team monitoring,” Theo’s voice joins the channel, his musical accent comforting even through digital distortion. I catch the subtle strain beneath his words, the slight breathlessness betraying the heat he’s fighting to control. “Security feeds accessed. You are clear to approach from the north entrance. Three guards on rotation, four-minute intervals.”

A muffled sound comes through his mic, followed by a shaky exhale that makes all of us tense.

“Theo?” Ryker’s voice sharpens with concern.

“I’m fine,” our omega responds, though the tightness in his voice suggests otherwise. “Just a... wave. Mona’s adjusting the suppressant dose now.”

“My chemical masterpiece requires calibration,” Mona’s voice chimes in unexpectedly. “The omega’s hormone fluctuations are fascinating but inconvenient. Very unexpected response patterns.” Her usual chaotic speech patterns soften slightly as she continues, “Lab’s prepared for data analysis. Just get me that formula, and I’ll have vaccine prototypes ready for testing within twenty-four hours.”

The reminder of what we’re fighting for—a cure, protection for betas everywhere—sharpens my focus as Ryker pulls the SUV to a stop in the shadow of an abandoned warehouse, half a mile from our target. Close enough for quick escape, far enough toavoid detection. The air inside the vehicle shifts as he turns to face us, authority settling over him like admin privileges.

“Gear check,” Ryker orders, already slipping into the tactical alpha that makes even Jinx straighten up.

We verify weapons—non-lethal for me and Jinx, though the gleam in his eye suggests he’s carrying backups I don’t want to know about. Ryker carries his sidearm with the calm confidence of someone who rarely needs to use it but remains lethal when he does. Communication devices, data retrieval equipment, medical supplies—each item confirmed and secured, the ritual grounding us in purpose.

“Remember the mission parameters,” Ryker says as we prepare to move out. His eyes linger on mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary, the intensity there making my skin prickle with awareness. “We locate the secondary servers, extract the original virus formula, and get out. No heroics, no detours, no engagement unless absolutely necessary.”

“Boring,” Jinx mutters, rolling his shoulders like a predator testing its muscles before a hunt.

“Alive,” Ryker corrects, voice hard enough to cut steel. “If the Sterling tip is legitimate, this data could help Mona develop her vaccine faster. But if it’s a trap?—”

“We turn into feral ghost assassins and disappear into the night,” Jinx finishes, cracking his knuckles with theatrical menace.

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