Page 68 of Reckless Consequences

“Theo’s with Quinn’s team,” Ryker tells us as we pass through. “Coordinating medical response for the extracted subjects.”

The thought of our omega waiting sends fresh energy through the bond—all of us responding to that fifth connection pulling us home. His scent reaches us before we see him, calling to something deep in each of us.

Just as we clear the door, the facility shudders with terminal violence. Steel screams as supports fail. Concrete cracks like gunshots. The path behind us collapses, cutting off any return.

“Run!” Ryker commands, unnecessarily.

We sprint across the maintenance yard, working together with instinctive efficiency. Jinx practically carries Finn now, the formula’s effects progressing rapidly. Ryker keeps pace despite his injury, calculating safe distance.

Through our bond, I feel Theo getting stronger—waiting, reaching, calling us home. His scent grows as we approach, cutting through the chemical neutralizer.

The first major explosion comes as we reach the perimeter fence—Jinx’s charges reaching critical systems. The sound hits like a physical blow, shockwave pushing against our backs as we clear the fence.

Quinn’s tactical team waits with vehicles running, medical personnel moving to meet us. Theo breaks protocol, rushing forward—omega instincts overriding operational discipline. His scent floods with relief and concern as he reaches us, hands already assessing injuries.

“Here,” Jinx transfers Finn to waiting medics carefully. “Formula exposure. Sterling’s enhanced version.”

Theo checks Finn’s vitals as he’s loaded into the medical transport. “Pulse elevated but steady. Breathing compromised but stable.”

What worries me most is the strange discoloration spreading along Finn’s veins—dark purple lines mapping his circulation like toxic wiring. Theo traces them with gentle fingers, concern in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Theo admits quietly. “The formula seems to be... rewriting something at the cellular level.”

Finn, analytical even now, examines the spreading patterns with detachment. “Fascinating. The pattern follows perfect Fibonacci.”

I watch with strange detachment—adrenaline fading, leaving emotions in its wake. We did it. We infiltrated Sterling’s facility, uploaded the clean protocol, transmitted recall codes globally. And Roman Sterling is trapped in the heart of his own collapsing empire, locked behind his own security doors.

Victory should feel better than this.

“Did I make the right choice?” The question escapes before I can stop it, directed at no one in particular.

Ryker understands immediately. “Trapping Sterling instead of killing him?”

I nod, watching Aurora begin its transformation from industrial monument to magnificent ruin. “I could have made sure he didn’t walk away.”

“You chose justice over vengeance,” Finn says, voice weak but mind still sharp. His hand finds mine from the gurney, grip unsteady but intention clear. “We’re better than him.”

The facility groans around us—collapsing with precision. Even failing, Sterling architecture follows a plan.

Just like its creator.

As I watch the last of the structure fold in on itself, a disturbing thought surfaces: what if he survived? Roman plans for every contingency. Would he have built a failsafe I couldn’t predict? The uncertainty settles like a virus—not crippling, but persistent. A background process I can’t fully terminate. Even buried under tons of concrete, Roman Sterling might still haunt us.

“We need to move,” Quinn announces, checking monitors showing structural failure reaching critical levels. “Safe distance protocol. All personnel clear the area.”

Our pack reluctantly separates—Finn and Theo in medical transport, Ryker and Jinx with tactical team, me standing frozen between vehicles, watching destruction unfold with complicated satisfaction. Our bonds stretch between us despite the distance, maintaining connection.

Jinx appears at my side. “Coming, Glitch? Or planning to become part of the landscape?”

His casual tone can’t hide the concern pulsing through our bond. I let him guide me toward the waiting vehicle, still watching the destruction.

“Think he survived?” I ask as we pull away, the facility diminishing with distance.

“The control hub had independent life support and reinforced walls,” Jinx acknowledges, watching the destruction with satisfaction. “But the surrounding structure is collapsing completely. I set the charges to ensure total system failure.”

“So he’s either trapped in a steel coffin or crushed by his own building.” The realization carries no satisfaction, just cold certainty.

“Either way,” Jinx continues, “everything he built is exposed. Everything he claimed is invalidated. His empire’s burning with him inside.”

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