Page 76 of Reckless Consequences

“We are not having sex in Finn’s hospital room,” I state firmly, though something warm unfurls in my chest at Jinx’s outrageous suggestion. My pulse quickens traitorously, a flush of heat rising under my skin before I can suppress it.

“Your loss,” Jinx sighs dramatically. “Pretty sure it would spike his neural activity.”

“The only thing spiking would be Quinn’s blood pressure when he checks the security feed,” Ryker points out dryly.

“His loss too,” Jinx mutters.

“I’m sure Finn appreciates the thought,” Theo pacifies, then adds with unexpected mischief, “Though perhaps we could revisit the idea once he’s conscious to properly consent.”

Jinx’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he barks out a laugh. “See? Theo gets it.”

“I said when he’s conscious,” Theo clarifies, but his smile remains.

The moment of levity feels like air rushing into lungs too long deprived of oxygen. We need this—the inappropriate jokes, the shared memories, the connection that pulls tighter when one of us is threatened.

Mona, who has been monitoring equipment throughout our conversation while unwrapping a seemingly endless supply of lollipops, suddenly straightens. “Neural activity increasing. Fascinating pattern.”

We all turn toward Finn, watching for any visible change. His expression remains peaceful, but one of the monitors indeed shows increased activity.

“You think he heard us?” I ask.

“Inconclusive,” Mona responds, making notes on her tablet. “But probability suggests auditory processing remains partially functional.”

“Keep talking to him,” Theo encourages. “It seems to be having an effect.”

We settle into rotations after that—each taking turns sitting beside Finn, sometimes talking, sometimes just being present. The rain continues outside, creating a soothing backdrop to our vigil.

Hours pass in this strange limbo of waiting and watching. At some point, Quinn brings food that we pick at without much enthusiasm. Aria calls for an update, which Ryker delivers with military precision. Through it all, Finn remains unchanged—stable but unresponsive.

“I once saw him take down two guys with nothing but a rolled-up magazine,” Jinx says during his rotation. “Not even a good magazine. Like, some waiting room crap about home decor. Boring as hell, but apparently quite effective as a weapon. That’s our Finn—finding usefulness in the mundane.”

The night deepens around us, but none of us consider leaving. We’ve fought too hard, come too far, to separate now. We shift within the small room, unconsciously orbiting each other in a dance that feels increasingly natural.

As dawn approaches with aching slowness, gray light gradually replacing darkness, I find myself holding Finn’s hand, whispering things I’m not sure I could say if he were conscious.

“I calculate risks for a living,” I admit quietly. “Probabilities, angles, escape routes. But I still didn’t see that you... that all of you... would matter so much. I didn’t calculate for that variable.”

“What if he doesn’t—” I start later, then bite down on the fear.

“He will,” Ryker interrupts with certainty, his presence at my back solid and reassuring without crowding.

“But what if?—”

“He will,” Theo echoes, his conviction carrying equal weight as his fingers brush against mine in silent support.

“The probability of Finn giving up or giving in is statistically negligible,” Jinx adds, mimicking Finn’s precise speech patterns with surprising accuracy. “Approximately zero-point-zero-zero-one percent, accounting for all known variables.”

The imitation startles a laugh out of me. “He would hate your rounding.”

“True,” Jinx grins. “He’d demand at least three more decimal places.”

Mona has been unusually quiet for the past hour, her attention fixed on a complex display of molecular structures. When she suddenly stands, her movement is sharp enough to draw all our attention. Her eyes focus in a way that makes me nervous.

“Need to run additional tests,” she announces, looking at me with unsettling intensity. “Blood sample required. Genetic comparison necessary.”

“From me?” I ask, already rolling up my sleeve. “Whatever you need.”

“Come.” She gestures toward the door. “Lab equipment calibrated for precise analysis. Need specialized environment.”

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