Page 54 of Reckless Consequences

Finn’s hand finds mine, his touch anchoring me as options disappear. The beta connection between us solidifies, creating a calm center in the storm. Through our pack bond, I send silent apology to those who can’t hear me—to Ryker who trusted me with this mission, to Jinx who gave me his lucky charm, to Theo who asked me to come back.

“Any ideas, Professor?” I ask, voice steadier than my racing pulse.

“Only one.” His grip tightens on mine. “Trust the pack.”

As Alexander’s teams close in from both sides, I realize the truth in Finn’s words. After a lifetime of running solo, I’ve forgotten the most important variable in this equation: I’m not alone anymore. The pack bonds may stretch, but they don’t break. Whatever comes next, we face it together.

The matryoshka doll weighs heavy in my pocket. Whatever Jinx put inside, I hope it’s worth dying for.

Chapter13

Cayenne

The matryoshka dollweighs heavy in my pocket as Alexander’s security team closes in from both sides. Its tiny carved edges press against my fingertips—Jinx’s unexpected gift suddenly my last hope.

Whatever’s inside, it’s now or never.

Alexander raises his hand, security team freezing mid-stride. His eyes—green, like mine—lock onto my face with unnerving intensity. My skin prickles with recognition.

“Secure the corridor,” he commands without looking away. “No one enters without my authorization.” The team complies instantly—his personal security detail, I realize, selected for loyalty to him rather than directly to Roman. Another layer to his duplicity.

Finn’s hand tightens around mine, our pack bond humming with tension. His mind calculates escape vectors, finding none. We’re trapped, cornered, exposed. His scent sharpens despite the neutralizer—earl grey tea gaining notes of sandalwood.

Yet Alexander just... waits. Something flickers across his face—an emotion I can’t immediately name.

“You were supposed to be smarter than this.” His voice carries notes of genuine disappointment. “Getting caught was not part of your profile assessment.”

“Sorry to disappoint the family legacy.” I force a smile that feels like broken glass. My pulse syncs with his against my will. “Guess daddy’s genetic tinkering isn’t foolproof after all.”

His jaw tightens—the first tell Mona taught me to watch for. The small muscle at the corner twitches exactly as mine does when I’m frustrated. “Move.”

Not the response I expected. Finn shifts slightly, positioning himself between us. His body angles toward mine, not fully blocking but creating a barrier that feels like protection.

“Step back,” Alexander directs, sharp enough to cut. “Both of you. Central lab. Now.”

Security teams maintain position at corridor endpoints, weapons ready but not raised. A trap? Probably. But our options started at zero and are rapidly approaching negative integers.

We comply, backing slowly toward the central lab doors. Alexander follows at precise distance, every movement controlled, calculated, efficient. His scent carries notes of alpine forest and polished metal, eerily similar to our father’s but lacking the genuine authority Ryker’s cedar scent commands.

The central lab unfolds behind us—a sterile cathedral to Sterling’s twisted science. Gleaming equipment, specimen containment units, data displays with scrolling formulas too complex to comprehend at a glance. Through our bond, I feel Finn cataloging everything, assessing potential weapons, barriers, exits.

Alexander secures the door behind us, security teams visible but contained outside. The momentary privacy feels more threatening than reassuring.

“You uploaded Mona’s virus.” Not a question. His expression remains unreadable.

“Needed to stop the shipments,” I answer, watching for reaction. “Your beta extermination plan.”

Something shifts in his posture—subtle but definite. His scent changes, metallic notes sharpening with something almost like... regret? I catch it despite the neutralizer—my senses continuing to sharpen as the blocker fades.

“That was never the objective.”

“Could have fooled me.” I gesture toward the displays still cycling formulation data. “Global distribution network, vaccine that rewrites beta DNA? Looks pretty genocide-adjacent from where I’m standing.”

He moves to a terminal, fingers skimming across the interface. Security feeds appear on the main display—facility sections where battles rage. Jinx and Ryker fighting their way through production levels, their coordinated movements a deadly dance. My body responds instantly—pulse accelerating, skin warming, the pack bond singing with recognition.

Theo coordinates with Quinn’s extraction team on another feed, his calm extending to strangers even amid chaos. His hands make the same gesture I’ve seen him use with Jinx during feral episodes.

“Your pack is moderately impressive,” Alexander observes, eyes scanning the feeds. “Military training, tactical discipline. Not what I expected from the chaos you typically attract.”

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