Page 43 of Reckless Consequences

Command isn’t about controlling outcomes. It’s about choosing which risks are worth taking for the people you love.

And this pack—these people—are worth everything.

When Finn sways in his chair, we move at once. Theo’s arm steadies him. Jinx grabs his elbow. Ryker shifts behind him. We pretend not to notice, letting him keep his dignity.

I reach for him through our bond, showing him analyzing data, finding patterns, guiding me through Sterling’s databases. The directed communication may not be perfect yet, but I see understanding register in his eyes.

“You’re going to be my eyes in there,” I say, squeezing his hand. “When we enter that server room, your brain is our greatest weapon.”

When we finally break, exhaustion weighs on all of us. Ryker’s hands tremble slightly, the extended Alpha command presence taking its toll. Jinx paces restlessly, his need to patrol and secure intensifying. Theo’s skin is flushed, his eyes slightly glassy from hours of dampening tensions with his scent. Finn’s recovery has visibly stalled, his face ashen despite our support.

My own body responds unpredictably—waves of protectiveness followed by heightened sensitivity to everyone’s distress. The claiming marks throb insistently, demanding physical reconnection after hours of tactical focus.

As the others disperse to grab food or rest, I remain connected to Mona, watching her work through calculations.

“You didn’t mention the other part,” I say quietly, once we’re alone.

She looks up. “Which part?”

“The part where you’re terrified of facing him again.”

Her manic energy stills completely. In that moment, I see the real Mona—not the chaotic genius, not the candy-obsessed Omega—but the girl who grew up under Roman Sterling’s control, who witnessed his cruelty firsthand, who transformed her fear into a weapon.

“Terror inefficient emotion,” she finally says, though her voice lacks its usual edge. “Irrelevant to mission success.”

“But you feel it anyway.”

“Yes.” The single word carries more honesty than any of her scientific explanations. “Memories... persistent. Intrusive.”

“You don’t have to be there,” I offer. “You can coordinate remotely. Stay safe.”

“Safety illusion while daddy lives.” Her gaze hardens. “Must see it end. Must confirm destruction.”

I understand completely. “We’ll end it. Together.”

“Family cooperation. Unexpected variable in life equation.” Ghost of smile touches lips. “Not unpleasant.”

“No,” I agree. “Not unpleasant at all.”

The connection ends with plans to reconvene tomorrow. I stand, stretching muscles stiff from hours of sitting, and turn to find Ryker watching me from the doorway.

“How long have you been there?” I ask.

“Long enough.” He crosses to me, hands finding my shoulders, kneading the tight muscles. “You and Mona... it’s remarkable, given everything.”

“She’s what I might have become without my mom,” I tell him. “Without all of you.”

His hands still. “You consider us grounding?”

“Ironic, right? Former lone-wolf hacker finding stability with the literal psycho squad.” I turn in his arms, facing him directly. “But yes. You ground me. All of you.”

I send him quick flashes – Ryker’s steady hands during training, Jinx making chaos seem manageable, Finn’s mind completing my thoughts, Theo’s art revealing beauty in broken things.

His eyes widen slightly as he receives the directed memories. “You’re getting better at that. Directed communication through the bond.”

“Side effect of the virus, maybe,” I suggest. “Or just practice.”

“Tomorrow’s going to be dangerous,” he says after a moment.

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