Page 86 of Reckless Consequences

Her observation creates unexpected warmth—being known beyond surface analysis, understood despite communication issues, accepted despite peculiarities.

“I heard more,” I say suddenly, memory fragments coming together. “While unconscious. Conversations.”

Their expressions shift to varying degrees of concern.

“You talked about Dublin. About my family.”

Cayenne’s expression confirms I’m right. “I might have suggested you should reconnect with them. When you’re ready.”

The memory creates a new perspective—near death experience changing how I see past estrangement, pack connection inspiring reconsideration of family distance. Something shifts inside me, a wall of carefully constructed indifference cracking to reveal the pain beneath—years of distance that never quite numbed the wound of separation.

My throat tightens as I imagine a world where pack and family might coexist, where the belonging I’ve found here could extend to heal older fractures.

“I think,” I say carefully, “that might be worth trying. Maybe a twenty percent chance of working out.”

“Those aren’t great odds,” Jinx points out.

“Better than zero,” Cayenne counters. “And some things can’t be calculated. Sometimes you just have to make the call and see what happens.”

Her assessment challenges my usual approach, yet carries validity I can’t dismiss. Some things resist measurement—emotions, reconciliation, forgiveness.

“I’ll consider a different approach.”

Her quiet laugh carries familiar warmth. “That’s Finn-speak for ‘you might be right.’“

“You’re about sixty percent right—give or take.”

“I’ll take those odds.” Her confidence has its own beauty—not precision but intuition, seeing patterns without conscious calculation.

As the conversation continues around me—medical assessments, recovery timelines, relocation plans—I find myself noting changes. Formula effects creating enhanced senses. Designation shifting toward something hybrid. Pack bonds stronger than before.

But beneath all that, something else emerges—connection not just measured but felt, belonging not just calculated but experienced, future not just projected but anticipated.

My body registers it all with newfound clarity: the weight of Cayenne’s head as she finally surrenders to exhaustion against my shoulder, the steady rhythm of Theo’s heartbeat I can somehow sense across the room, the protective positioning of Ryker’s body that creates a shield around us all, the restless energy of Jinx’s movements that somehow grounds rather than disrupts.

My muscles relax with each confirmation of their presence, my blood pressure steadies without medication, my breathing syncs with their collective rhythm. My skin no longer feels like a barrier containing me but rather a boundary where connection happens—both receiving and transmitting through scent, touch, and proximity in a continuous loop of belonging.

Some problems don’t have neat solutions. Some connections don’t follow logic—they survive in spite of it. Bonds don’t always break under pressure. Sometimes, they become stronger.

The most beautiful math isn’t in clean answers—it’s in the way systems shift, adapt, respond. Not perfection. Connection. Not isolation. Integration.

That’s where the real proof lives.

Chapter21

Cayenne

I watchin quiet horror as Mona holds the wine bottle upside down to the light, squinting at it like she’s examining a dangerous chemical compound.

“Ethanol content approximately fourteen percent,” she announces, twirling the bottle. “Suboptimal for cognitive function but potentially effective for social lubrication.”

“It’s just wine, Mona,” I say, rubbing my temples. “Normal people drink it to relax. No analysis required.”

My sister—God, it’s still weird thinking of her that way—looks genuinely confused. “But relaxation has measurable biological indicators. Heart rate variability, cortisol levels?—”

“And this,” I interrupt, gently taking the bottle from her hands, “is why we can’t have nice things.”

Across the room, Aria catches my eye and smothers a laugh. She showed up early to help transform this sterile Omega Guardians rec room into something almost cozy, and now she’s watching my sister dismantle the concept of casual drinking with the fascination of someone watching a car crash in slow motion.

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