Page 82 of Reckless Consequences

He looks up, waiting.

“Be careful out there.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly—not quite a smile, but the closest I’ve seen from him. “You too, Cayenne.”

As Mona and I leave him standing among her scientific equipment, I realize I’m no longer sure how to feel about my brother—not friend but no longer entirely enemy, caught in the complicated gray area that seems to define everything about being a Sterling.

What matters now isn’t Alexander or Roman or the tangled web of Sterling legacy.

What matters is Finn, waiting upstairs, and the blood that might save him—the same blood that flows through my veins, transformed from curse to potential cure.

The elevator carries us back toward my pack, and I take a deep breath, preparing to explain the unexpected reunion that just unfolded. I’m already leaning toward the floor where they wait.

“You set that up,” I say to Mona as the floors tick by. It’s not a question.

“Obviously,” she confirms without a hint of remorse, already unwrapping another lollipop. “Family confrontation statistically inevitable. Controlled environment optimal for emotional resolution. Much psychological benefit.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Warning reduces authenticity of emotional response. Compromises data integrity. Very inefficient approach.”

I can’t help but laugh, the sound startling us both. “You are absolutely terrifying, you know that?”

She beams, taking it as the highest compliment. “Thank you. Significant effort invested in cultivating optimal scientific intimidation factors.”

The elevator doors open, and I step out with my sister beside me, carrying Alexander’s blood—our shared legacy transformed into something healing rather than harmful.

My pack is waiting. I can feel them before I see them, their presence washing over me, pulling me home.

Chapter20

Finn

Numbers have always made moresense to me than people. Equations don’t shift with moods, algorithms don’t hold grudges, statistics don’t play favorites.

But numbers can’t explain what’s happening now.

Beeping. Regular intervals. Heart rate monitor.

Voices floating through darkness. Familiar, worried.

“...still no change...”

“...Mona says the formula is stabilizing...”

“...been three days, how much longer...”

Everything’s fragmented. Nothing makes sense. Time stretches and compresses randomly.

Then… “I’m telling you, we should try the sex thing. Bet it would wake him up out of spite.”

Jinx. Of course it’s him. Second time he’s suggested this particular “therapy.”

“Jinx!” Theo’s scandalized tone. “We’ve been over this. That is not medically sound.”

“Maybe not, but it would be a lot more fun than staring at monitors. Besides, I read somewhere that familiar stimuli can help coma patients.”

“Pretty sure they meant familiar voices or music, not the sounds of us fucking.” Cayenne’s voice, closer than the others. A pressure against my hand—her fingers wrapped around mine.

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