Page 38 of Reckless Consequences

“Nothing,” I say, then reconsider. “Everything. Just... processing.”

He smiles, understanding without further explanation. “Integration takes time.”

I bump his hip with mine, gratitude flowing through our bond. “Worth it though.”

Hours later, dinner prep moves into full swing. Theo orchestrates the kitchen with artistic precision, directing each of us with gentle authority that even the alphas don’t question. Finn measures spices with scientific accuracy. Jinx channels his destructive impulses into perfectly diced vegetables, knife flashing with dangerous speed. Ryker provides steady support, anticipating needs before they’re voiced.

And me? I move between them all, my body finding its natural rhythm in this strange dance we’re creating together.

“Taste this,” Theo says, holding out a spoon with sauce for me to sample. His eyes watch intently as I take it between my lips, assessing my reaction with an artist’s critical eye.

“Oh my God,” I groan, the rich flavors exploding across my tongue. “How did you make this with what we brought?”

His smile is pleased but modest. “Chemistry. Art. Magic. Same thing, really.”

Jinx snorts from where he’s massacring an onion. “Pretty sure it’s just you being a kitchen witch, piccolo.”

Theo’s laugh ripples through the room, warm and easy. The sound triggers an immediate response from the claiming marks on my neck—a pleasant throb that spreads warmth down my spine. I catch Ryker watching me, his eyes knowing. He felt it too, the ripple of contentment through our shared bonds.

As I reach past Finn for the salt, our fingers brush. A small touch, barely there, but electricity sparks between us. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face before his expression softens into something that makes my heart stutter.

“Hey,” he says quietly, for my ears alone.

“Hey yourself,” I whisper back, suddenly shy—ridiculous given what we’ve already shared.

His eyes drop to the claiming mark at the junction of my neck and shoulder—the one he placed there, precise and deliberate like everything he does. “Feeling better? After the separation?”

I nod, leaning slightly closer. “It was intense. The hollow feeling. Is it always like that?”

“Not always,” he admits. “But with new bonds, with five-person connections—it’s unprecedented territory. We’re writing the rules as we go.”

“Story of my life,” I laugh softly. “Making it up as I go along.”

His hand finds mine beneath the counter, his thumb tracing patterns on my wrist. “You’re doing remarkably well for someone navigating uncharted waters.”

Something in his tone makes me look up sharply. “So are you,” I point out. “This can’t be easy for you either. Pack bonds are one thing, but sharing your alphas with a beta? That’s not in any designation handbook I’ve read.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I find I don’t mind as much as expected.” His gaze drifts over my shoulder to where Ryker and Jinx are quietly arguing about the proper way to sear meat. “They’re...fuller somehow. With you. We all are.”

The simple admission steals my breath. Before I can respond, Theo calls us all to the table. The meal passes in a blur of flavors and conversation—strategies for infiltrating Sterling’s facilities mixed with teasing about Jinx’s inability to follow a recipe, debates about optimal entry points interspersed with Theo’s stories about culinary disasters.

It’s so normal. So beautifully, impossibly normal in the face of everything we’re planning, everything we’re facing.

As I move around the kitchen afterward, helping with cleanup, I catch glimpses of each of them—Finn reviewing data with renewed focus, Ryker cleaning weapons with methodical care, Jinx restlessly checking the perimeter one last time, Theo arranging leftovers with artistic precision.

My pack. My strange, beautiful, deadly pack.

The claiming marks on my neck pulse with quiet satisfaction, no longer aching from separation but humming with connection. Each mark feels different—Theo’s bite radiates gentle warmth, while Ryker’s pulses with steady strength, Finn’s mark provides clear focus, and Jinx’s connection crackles with wild energy beneath my skin.

I press my fingers to the marks, still marveling at how they’ve changed me—not just physically, but fundamentally. How they’ve altered not just my scent but my perception, my reactions, my place in the world.

Five days.

Five days to save the world from Sterling’s plans. Five days with the pack that’s become my home. Five days to prove that belonging doesn’t mean conforming—that it means transforming together into something greater than any designation could define.

Finn catches my eye from across the room, his expression questioning. I smile, a genuine one that makes his eyes warm in response.

Yeah, I can definitely work with that.

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