Page 49 of Reckless Consequences

“Theo, you maintain position here,” Ryker indicates the northwest corner, finger tracing the route with military precision. “Coordinate with Quinn’s PCA extraction team once they arrive. He knows the protocols for moving vulnerable subjects.”

Theo nods, medical pack already slung across his body. His dark vanilla scent intensifies when he glances at each of us in turn.

“Once we breach,” Ryker continues, “we have exactly eleven minutes before security protocols reactivate. Jinx and I will proceed to the production facility. Our window for complete destruction is narrow.”

Jinx checks his demolition charges for what must be the tenth time, fingers moving with hypnotic precision. His usual chaotic energy has condensed into something deadly focused. It should terrify me. Instead, it’s reassuring. I can feel his careful control through our bond—the wild energy channeled into calculated destruction.

“Cayenne and Finn, server room infiltration remains priority alpha. Identify distribution records, upload corruption algorithm, destroy physical backups.”

“Assuming biometric access functions as predicted,” Finn qualifies.

“It will.” I sound more confident than I feel. The blocker serum battles Sterling DNA in my blood, creating a buzzing dissonance beneath my skin. “Mona’s calculations put us at seventy-six percent probability of success.”

“With a three percent margin of error,” Finn adds automatically, the corner of his mouth quirking upward when I catch his eye. Our minds mesh in ways that feel uniquely us—his methodical assessments complementing my intuitive pattern recognition.

Ryker hesitates, his commander mask slipping for just a heartbeat. The bond between us pulses with something fierce—concern wrapped in determination.

“If anything goes wrong—” he begins.

“We abort, extract, rendezvous at secondary location,” I finish, meeting his gaze. “We know the protocols.”

Jinx snorts. “Says the woman who once infiltrated Sterling Labs solo.”

“And look how well that turned out.” I gesture to my recovered body with dramatic flair, though the memory of Alexander’s knife still sends phantom pain through my abdomen.

“You got better.” His grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before I can respond, he presses something into my palm—small, angular, warm from his pocket.

A matryoshka doll, barely larger than my thumbnail. Intricately carved with what looks like binary code spiraling around its wooden surface.

“Made it,” he mutters, suddenly awkward. “For luck.”

The vulnerability catches me off guard. I trace the precise carvings with my fingertip, oddly touched that chaotic, feral Jinx channeled his energy into creating something so delicate.

“You made this?” I examine the tiny figure. “Didn’t peg you for arts and crafts outside of crochet.”

“Helps with the...” He wiggles his fingers near his temple in universal symbol for crazy. “Open it if shit goes sideways.”

His scent shifts—the leather undertones softening as embarrassment mingles with protective determination. I slip the doll carefully into my inner pocket, close to my heart.

Before I can ask what’s inside, Ryker clears his throat. “Final comms check. Maintain radio discipline. Use pack bonds for immediate threats.”

We synchronize watches, checking satellite phones and earpieces. The technical preparation feels grounding, familiar, while the pack bond vibrates with emotions I still haven’t fully categorized—determination and fear, protection and vulnerability, all tangled together.

“Everyone clear on extraction protocol?” Ryker confirms. “If separated, make your way to rendezvous point. Wait six hours maximum, then proceed to secondary location.”

Nobody says what happens if someone doesn’t show, but the possibility hangs heavy between us. I catch myself automatically checking each pack member’s position, a protective instinct I once reserved only for myself now extending to four others. The realization should terrify me—attachments create vulnerabilities. Instead, it feels like strength multiplied.

“Time to move.” Ryker’s gaze meets each of ours in turn, lingering longest on me. Through our bond, I feel something impossibly soft beneath his tactical authority—worry, pride, and something deeper that makes my breath catch.

Theo approaches, pressing small vials into each of our hands. “Neutralizer booster. Extends the spray’s effect for another four hours, but effectiveness still decreases after the five-hour mark.”

When he reaches me, his hand cups my face. His thumb traces my cheekbone in a gesture so tender it hurts.

“Stay focused, piccola. Come back to us.”

“I always do,” I manage through the sudden tightness in my throat. “Eventually.”

The pack huddle happens without conscious decision—five bodies drawn together like magnets seeking alignment. Finn’s hand finds mine. Ryker’s arm around my shoulders. Jinx pressed against my back. Theo completing our circle.

---