Page 65 of Reckless Consequences

“I’ve got you,” I promise, steadying him against a workstation. His weight leans heavily on me, muscles trembling with the effort to stand. “Just hold on.”

Roman watches with detached scientific interest. “Fascinating response pattern. His previous exposure appears to be creating unique rejection cascade.”

Something snaps inside me—the final thread of restraint. This isn’t about Sterling genetics or designation biology or scientific advancement. This is about power. Control. Breaking people into shapes that fit Roman Sterling’s perfect vision.

I guide Finn to the floor, making sure he’s stable before turning to face my father. “You think you’re creating the future,” I say, deadly calm. “But you’re just breaking the present.”

My fingers find the USB drive, palming it with practiced sleight of hand. Roman watches me with the mild interest one might give a mildly entertaining insect.

“You lack vision,” he says simply. “A genetic limitation from your mother’s side, I suspect.”

I move toward the workstation, steps measured. Not running, not advancing. Just positioning.

“Did Alexander tell you about the failsafe?” I ask conversationally.

Roman’s expression doesn’t change, but his attention sharpens. “Explain.”

“In every Sterling facility. The one he helped design.” I take another step toward the auxiliary console. “In case of... what did he call it? Unauthorized access.”

The smallest flicker of doubt crosses Roman’s face. His scent shifts slightly—metallic notes sharpening with uncertainty. “Alexander wouldn’t compromise security protocols.”

“Are you sure?” I tilt my head, studying him with his own calculating intensity. The genetic similarity between us has never felt stronger—the same analytical assessment, the same measured calculation. “Are you absolutely certain your perfect weapon doesn’t have a mind of his own?”

Roman’s hand moves toward an emergency alert panel—confirming my suspicion. Even the great Roman Sterling has contingency plans.

I lunge for the workstation, fingers flying across the keyboard. The USB drive slides home, connection established in seconds. Alexander’s original protocol fills the screen—clean genetic enhancements without weaponization, without forced compliance routines. My hands move with precise choreography, executing commands with Sterling efficiency.

“Stop!” Roman commands, alpha authority flooding his voice.

The alpha command hits like pressure against my skin—but it can’t override what he didn’t design. I feel it, but it doesn’t own me.

My hands move in perfect sync, executing Mona’s upload sequence. System access granted. Distribution network up. Recall codes transmitting. The clean formula uploads to screens worldwide. I feel a surge of triumph as Roman’s contamination starts to disappear from the system.

Roman reaches for me, but I’m already moving, ducking under his grasp with parkour grace Jinx would approve of. My elbow connects with his solar plexus—perfect placement, just as Alexander’s fighting style would dictate. The satisfaction of landing the blow reverberates through me—payback for months of fear and pain.

“You engineered us too well,” I hiss as he staggers back. “Should have programmed in more obedience and less intelligence.”

Through our bond, I feel Finn’s thoughts working despite the formula’s assault. His hand catches mine, pressing something cold and metallic into my palm. A security badge lifted from one of the workstations. Even suffering, his beta brilliance finds solutions.

Roman recovers quickly, expression dark with genuine anger for the first time. His alpha scent spikes—command and fury flooding the room. But I don’t flinch. It rolls over me like a storm hitting a firewall. I’m not made to obey him. “You have no idea what you’re interfering with. Years of research?—”

“Being exposed as we speak,” I finish, glancing at the primary display where Alexander’s clean protocol overwrites Roman’s weaponized version. “Every regulatory agency. Every government. Every media outlet. All receiving proof of what you’ve really been doing.”

Another explosion rocks the facility, close enough to crack the reinforced walls. Warning klaxons shift to critical evacuation tone.

“Facility experiencing critical systems failure,” the automated system announces. “All personnel evacuate immediately.”

Roman’s gaze shifts to the security feed showing the rapidly collapsing production facility. “You’ve destroyed billions in research.”

“No,” I correct him, helping Finn to his feet. “I’ve saved countless lives.”

Finn sags against me, his weight increasing as the formula tears through his system. His skin burns with fever, pulse racing beneath my fingers. Through our bond, I feel his consciousness flickering—his mind fighting to function while his body wages chemical warfare.

“Stay with me,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. “I need you.”

The badge in my hand connects with the security panel near the door, activating emergency lockdown. Steel barriers slide into place, isolating the control hub—with Roman inside and us outside. Not just stopping a threat but closing a chapter. Not killing the monster but caging it.

“You should’ve known,” I say quietly, palm flat against the steel. “We’re Sterling too.”

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