Page 11 of Reckless Consequences

“Modifications?” The word sends ice through my veins. “He modified our DNA?”

My fingertips go numb. These are the same hands that hacked into sealed networks, that traced every curve of my pack. And now they’re carrying code I never asked for.

The mark on my neck pulses again, stronger this time. Is this why the virus affected me differently than Finn? Is this why my scent has been changing, taking on those unfamiliar notes that confused even Jinx’s alpha senses? The thought that I might be something other than the beta I’ve always believed myself to be sends a wave of vertigo through me.

As the revelation sinks in, my senses sharpen—I can smell everyone who’s been in this car, detect the ozone beneath Mona’s candy-sweet omega scent. My hearing picks up creatures moving in the distant woods. Whatever Sterling modified in my DNA isn’t just affecting my scent—it’s changing my entire body.

Mona’s expression twitches—barely. The blank scientist face cracks just enough to let something else slip through. Not sympathy, exactly. But something. On anyone else, it might look like regret. On Mona, it feels more like recognition. Like she’s logging me as collateral damage she didn’t plan for.

“Mona, we need to get back to the pack,” I say, deliberately changing the subject, refusing to process this revelation while survival is still the primary objective. “Finn needs that booster, and?—”

“And if we lead Sterling’s men straight to them, they all die,” she interrupts with uncharacteristic bluntness. “Your beta friend. Your feral alpha. Your artistic omega. Your tactical commander. All terminated because we carry tracking markers in our blood.”

She reaches into her ever-present bag, producing a compact medical kit. “We share father’s blood, but we also carry our mothers’ genetic markers.”

I watch as she prepares two syringes filled with amber liquid that catches the first tentative rays of dawn, transforming the substance into something that looks almost beautiful—liquid gold that promises salvation.

“What is that?” I ask, eyeing the needles with the wariness of someone who’s already had one too many revelations about what flows through her veins.

“Genetic masking compound,” she explains, handling the syringes with practiced confidence. “By amplifying our maternal DNA expression, we become temporarily invisible to tracking systems calibrated for Sterling markers.”

“You just happen to have this ready?” Suspicion creeps into my voice.

“I’ve been planning to disappear from daddy for quite some time,” she admits, something dark and determined flashing across her features. “This compound is part of a much larger escape protocol. Very comprehensive planning. Many contingencies. Years of preparation.”

I eye the syringe warily. “Side effects?”

“Temporary immune suppression. Possible fever. Minor cellular stress response.” She tilts her head. “Statistically acceptable risk profile given the alternatives.”

She offers me one of the syringes, her face uncharacteristically serious. “We need to separate.”

“No,” I refuse immediately, the response instinctual rather than logical. “We stick together. Get back to the pack.”

“Illogical,” she counters. “Two Sterling signatures in proximity create stronger tracking signal. Separation optimizes survival probability. Also,” she hesitates, then continues more softly, “I need equipment to synthesize more booster doses. And to continue vaccine development. For your beta friend. For all betas.”

“Vaccine?” I repeat, hope flickering dangerous and bright. “Not just boosters?”

“The booster treats symptoms. A complete vaccine could neutralize the virus entirely. Prevent further infections.” Her fingers tap against her thigh in complex patterns. “Challenging. Not impossible. Much scientific opportunity.”

The potential of it hits me like a revelation—not just saving Finn, but every beta being hunted by my father’s creation. The mention of Finn cuts through my objections, his face flashing in my mind—brilliant, steady Finn with his beautiful brain and quiet strength, now fighting for every breath against Sterling’s virus.

“I can contact Aria,” I say slowly, the plan forming clearly. “Omega Guardians has secure facilities. Places Sterling can’t reach.”

“Acceptable solution,” Mona nods. “They can provide necessary equipment. I can synthesize additional boosters and continue vaccine work there.”

I pull out the satellite phone Ryker insisted I carry, the device suddenly feeling like the most important piece of tech I’ve ever handled. I dial the emergency number from memory, each beep echoing my racing pulse. After three rings, Aria’s voice fills the line.

“Secure channel established. Identify.”

“Red Queen to Castle,” I respond, using our old code from happier days when hacking was a game and not survival. “Requesting sanctuary for a rook in distress.”

Aria’s voice sharpens. “Cayenne? Where are you? The pack has been looking everywhere?—”

“No time,” I cut her off, glancing at Mona who’s watching the road with predatory intensity. “I need extraction for a high-value asset. Someone who can help Finn and the other betas.”

“The Sterling sister,” Aria concludes immediately, her mind as quick as ever. “Quinn briefed us on the situation.”

“She has the booster, but needs lab equipment to synthesize more and develop a full vaccine. We need to separate—we’re being tracked through our DNA.” The words sound insane even as I say them, like I’m trapped in some dystopian sci-fi nightmare.

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