Page 120 of Reckless: Corruption

“We’ll build again,” I promise, though where and how remains an open question.

We fall silent as the vehicle eats up distance, each lost in our own thoughts. The pack bond feels stretched and thin—like wire pulled almost to breaking point. I can sense Theo and Jinx beside me, their presence bright and immediate, and Finn’s fading pulse behind us, but Cayenne...

I should have bonded her, anchored her to us more firmly when I had the chance.

“Can you feel her?” I ask Jinx quietly, knowing his connection to Cayenne runs as deep as mine.

“Barely,” he answers, jaw tight. “Like trying to hear someone underwater.”

“She made her choice,” I say, the words tasting like ash. “Going back for Mona.”

“Would you have done different?” Jinx challenges, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

I don’t answer. We both know I wouldn’t. For any of them.

The cabin appears through the trees—small, nondescript, easily defensible. Built from weathered logs with narrowwindows and a metal roof, it blends into the surrounding forest like it’s been there for centuries. As I cut the engine, the silence feels oppressive, broken only by Finn’s labored breathing.

“Get him inside,” I order. “I’ll secure the perimeter.”

They move with practiced efficiency despite exhaustion and injury. This is what we’ve been training for—survival when everything goes to hell.

Inside, the cabin’s sparse furnishings include medical supplies and essential equipment. The musty scent of disuse mixes with pine and old leather, the space small but functional with a stone fireplace dominating one wall. Theo immediately sets up a treatment area for Finn, hooking him to the emergency oxygen we keep stocked, while Jinx establishes security protocols.

I check my encrypted phone—no signal from our missing pack members. The satellite link shows activity at the mansion has ceased completely, Sterling’s forces withdrawing from what remains of our sanctuary.

“They’ve cleared out,” I inform the others. “Mansion’s gone. Nothing left for them to find.”

Theo looks up, devastation crossing his beautiful features. “Everything we built...”

“Is just things,” I remind him gently. “The pack is what matters.”

But even as I say it, the absence of Cayenne and Mona echoes through the space like a physical presence. Everything about this feels wrong—pack separated, home lost, future uncertain.

Finn’s condition deteriorates over the next few hours. His breathing turns shallow, skin mottled with strange patterns that spread visibly across his chest and up his neck. The virus is moving faster now, as if sensing its window of opportunity is closing.

By midnight, his fingertips have taken on a bluish tinge, his body fighting a war it wasn’t designed to win.

Theo’s heat intensifies despite his desperate efforts to control it, pheromones filling the cabin with a scent that makes my alpha instincts howl. It takes every ounce of discipline not to respond, not to claim what biology insists should be mine.

“What now?” Jinx asks in a rare moment of uncertainty, his usual manic energy subdued by exhaustion and worry.

The question hangs between us, weighted with everything we’ve lost and everything still at stake.

“We hold,” I decide. “Establish defensive perimeter, stabilize Finn as best we can with what we have, and wait for them to reach us.”

“And if they don’t come?” Theo voices the fear none of us want to acknowledge.

“They will.” I don’t allow doubt into my tone. Pack needs certainty right now, not my fears. “Cayenne is Sterling smart and pack trained. And Mona is...”

“A fucking chaos demon with a PhD,” Jinx finishes with a grim smile.

Finn’s monitor beeps an urgent warning—oxygen levels dropping, heart rate erratic.

“He needs that booster,” Theo whispers, pressing a cool cloth to Finn’s forehead. “Soon.”

I move to the window, staring into the darkness beyond our temporary sanctuary. Somewhere out there, two pieces of our pack are fighting their own battles. Carrying the one thing that might save Finn. Racing against time and enemies to find their way back to us.

The satellite phone chirps—one message, heavily encrypted.

---