Page 58 of Reckless Consequences

“You feel that?” I ask, suddenly alert.

Ryker’s eyes narrow. “Yes.” He inhales deeply, scenting air that can’t possibly carry her, but trying anyway. His body mirrors mine—both of us turning toward what’s ours.

The bond pulls tight between us. My skin prickles, heart racing. Hunt. Protect. Destroy threats. My scent breaks through the neutralizer. Finn’s with her too—his calm presence next to her chaos.

Another hit through the bond. Not fear exactly. Recognition? My muscles tense, ready to fight. Hair on my neck stands up. Did she find Alexander? The USB inside that doll could burn Sterling’s empire to the ground.

The beast wakes up—the one that painted concrete walls with blood. My head tilts, listening for anything. My cherry tobacco scent breaks through the neutralizer. Metallic. Violent.

“Stay focused,” Ryker warns, reading me instantly. His cedar scent spikes, establishing boundaries between us—not dominating, just directing. “Complete the mission.”

“They’re in trouble.” The words come out as a growl, my throat tight around them. I press my tongue against my canine, feeling the pressure build.

“They’re capable.” His authority holds steady, but underneath I sense his struggle—the same need to protect battling with what needs to be done. His jaw tightens with the same restraint I’m fighting to maintain.

I bare my teeth, not quite a snarl. My shoulders square instinctively. “So am I.”

Ryker holds my gaze, alpha to alpha. Not a battle for dominance—just assessment. The bond between us vibrates with understanding—two predators weighing options, calculating risks. “Fifth charge. Southeast column. Then we extract.”

Not what either of us wanted. Probably the right call. I head for the final target, muscles tight. Longer strides, claiming ground as I move. For once, the violence inside me feels useful.

I push through our bond to Cayenne.We’re coming.The connection runs stronger now. My skin warms thinking of her—her chaos matching mine perfectly. I thought pack bonds would cage me. Now they’re lifelines.I’m coming.

The comms unit in my ear crackles, then goes silent. Radio interference—deliberate or just bad luck, impossible to tell. But the timing seems too perfect for coincidence.

“Comms down,” I say, already thinking of other ways out. “Quinn’s team?”

“Offline.” Ryker doesn’t sound alarmed, just focused. “Original plan holds. Five minutes.”

I set the fifth charge quick and clean. The chaos in my head narrows to a point. Not gone. Aimed. Mona taught me that during our secret meetings. I can still see her sitting cross-legged on a lab table, using Skittles to mark the facility’s weak spots.

The first sign of trouble comes as vibration through the floor—security moving with purpose, not the usual patrol pattern. Their footsteps have military precision. Not Sterling’s regular guards.

“Company,” I murmur, noting Ryker has already spotted the threat. He shifts slightly, positioning for defense while staying hidden. His scent changes—cedar sharpening with combat readiness.

“Eleven,” he counts by sound alone. “Southeast corridor.”

I smile, feeling it stretch like a predator’s grin. My pulse quickens, blood running hot as the hunt presents itself. “Perfect.”

“Jinx,” Ryker warns, his scent spiking with authority—not dominating but directing. “Controlled response.”

My laugh comes soft and dark. “Always controlled. Just not always gentle.” I run my tongue over my teeth, skin prickling with anticipation.

I’ve felt this before, when the beast slips free. But this time it’s different—not blind rage, but cold precision. The chaos in my head crystallizing into perfect, deadly focus.

I remember standing on that rooftop edge months ago, wanting to fall. My alpha side just wanted to burn everything. The fire behind my eyes left nothing but ashes.

Now that fire’s got a use. I still burn, but for something. The beast is leashed by choice now—by my pack. By Cayenne showing me that fire can heal. By Theo taking my broken edges. By Finn seeing patterns in my chaos. By Ryker believing I’m more than just violence.

Through the pack bond, Cayenne’s presence pulses suddenly—surprise, confusion, realization. The sensation hits like a shot straight to my heart, body tensing, senses sharpening. A growl builds in my throat, muscles bunching in preparation to move. Something important has happened, but we’re too far apart for details. The feel of her has changed—like she’s learned something that changes everything.

“She’s okay,” I tell Ryker, reading the signals. “Different, but okay.” My body stays oriented toward her, drawn like a compass to north.

He nods, relief flashing beneath his focus. His concern for her matches my own, though we show it differently. He protects through structure where I protect through chaos. Both necessary. His scent shifts briefly with relief before steel focus returns.

The first shot comes without warning—a silenced round that misses Ryker’s head by millimeters. We drop instantly, combat reflexes taking over. My heartbeat speeds up, not from fear—from focus, the hunt now real instead of abstract.

“Eight o’clock,” I hiss, already tracing the shooter’s position. “Southeast catwalk.” My upper lip curls slightly, exposing the edge of my canine.

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