Page 46 of Reckless Consequences

Through the rearview mirror, I catch his eyes—brilliant despite his condition. Six months ago, I would have registered only his tactical value. Now I feel the courage beneath his calm.

“Those aren’t terrible odds.” Cayenne leans forward. “I’ve hacked systems with worse.”

“You would,” Jinx huffs, but his hand reaches for hers in the darkness. Through the mirror, I catch their fingers intertwining, his thumb brushing her knuckles.

“What about the genetic blocker timeline?” Theo asks. “Mona calculated six-hour window before Sterling’s tracking systems can detect you.”

Cayenne’s free hand moves to the injection site on her arm where Theo administered the fresh dose before departure. “Five hours, seventeen minutes remaining on this dose. Should be sufficient for initial infiltration.”

“And if it’s not?” The question escapes before I can filter it.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, fierce and determined. “Then you get everyone out, and I finish the job alone.”

The SUV fills with immediate rejection—not voiced but felt through our bond. Jinx’s grip on her hand tightens. Theo shifts in his seat, leaning toward her. Finn’s breathing changes, quickens.

“That’s not happening,” I state, knuckles white on the steering wheel, voice dropping low. We’ve already lost her once to Sterling. Never again.

Never. Fucking. Again.

I’d let Jinx destroy everything before I’d sacrifice a single pack member—a realization that would have horrified my commander self six months ago. A mission-first leader becoming a pack-first Alpha, the evolution both terrifying and necessary.

“Pack protocols clear,” Finn supports. “No one left behind.”

Theo reaches back to touch her knee. “Non-negotiable, piccola.”

The emotion swelling through our connection has no designation—it’s both simpler and more complex.

We reach our destination as first light breaches the horizon—a wooded area with optimal surveillance position and multiple exit routes. The facility emerges from morning mist like a monolith—larger than intel suggested, security heavier than projected.

“Maintain cover positions,” I direct as we unload gear. “Finn, establish communication relay. Theo, medical preparation. Jinx and Cayenne, perimeter reconnaissance.”

As they move to assigned tasks, I catch Jinx’s arm. The flashback hits without warning.

Blood spattered across concrete walls. Six bodies cooling on industrial flooring. Jinx—pupils blown wide, hands steady despite the adrenaline, voice unnervingly calm: “They deserved worse.”

The memory carries different weight now. Before our pack, I viewed that incident through a tactical lens—asset compromised, cleanup required, liability assessed. Now I feel the person beneath the violence, the pain driving the rage.

“Status?” I keep my voice low, neutral.

Jinx doesn’t flinch under my scrutiny. “Functional.”

One word carrying more weight than a psychological evaluation. I study his face, noting his controlled breathing, the clear focus in his eyes.

“You know what happens if you feel it coming on,” I say. Not a question.

“Abort. Extract. Isolate.” His hand moves to where Cayenne waits at the perimeter. “Been managing it, Ryk. Better since...” His eyes flick toward her.

Something shifts in his expression—a softening at the edges that I recognize because I feel it myself.

“She anchors me,” he confesses quietly. “The chaos in her head matches mine. Gives me something to focus on when the feral shit tries to rise.”

My own confession surprises me. “I know what you mean.”

Before the pack, I would never have acknowledged such vulnerability to another Alpha. Would have seen it as weakness, liability, failure. Now it feels like necessary truth.

His hand pauses on his tactical belt. “You worried about me breaking?”

“Always.” Honesty between Alphas, rare and necessary.

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