Page 95 of Reckless Consequences

“Correct,” Ryker confirms. “But all intelligence sources confirm his death. Sterling Industries is completely dismantled, his research confiscated, his allies in custody. If by some remote chance Alexander’s report was wrong and Roman somehow survived, he’s alone and without resources.”

“We still maintain monitoring protocols for any Sterling-related activities,” Finn adds, anticipating my concerns. “Surveillance algorithms are actively searching for any communication or financial patterns that might suggest remaining operatives. So far, nothing has emerged.”

“We’ve set up graduated response protocols,” Ryker says, his cedar scent projecting calm alpha certainty. “Multiple layers of early warning systems that would activate long before any threat could reach us here. Even Sterling at his peak couldn’t penetrate this security mesh without triggering at least three independent countermeasures.”

“And I’ve spent the last month making friends with every possible escape route on this mountain,” Jinx adds with a predatory smile. “Just in case.”

The reassurance settles me. Not blind confidence but reasonable security—threats acknowledged and contingencies established.

After lunch, I help Theo clear the dishes, noticing his slight wince as he reaches for a high shelf.

“You okay?” I ask, taking the stack of plates from him.

“Just tired,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that doesn’t quite ring true.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard with the renovations,” I say, studying his face. My body shifts slightly, instinctively positioning between him and the task. “Maybe take a day off?”

“I’m fine, piccola,” he says, though he doesn’t protest when I take over loading the dishwasher. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Something on your mind?”

He hesitates, hands stilling on a glass. “I’ve been thinking lately...”

I wait, giving him space to continue.

“This place,” he gestures around us, “what we’re building here. It’s different from anything I ever expected to have.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good,” he says quickly. “Just... it makes me think about things I never let myself consider before.”

“Like what?”

His eyes meet mine, something vulnerable in them. “Family. The future. Children, even.”

The word hangs between us, carrying unexpected weight.

“Children?” I repeat carefully.

“I know it’s... complicated,” he says, his vanilla scent warming with something like hope. His hand brushes unconsciously across his abdomen. “With our particular configuration. And maybe it’s too soon to even discuss it.”

“I don’t think it’s too soon to talk about anything,” I say, leaning against the counter. “We’ve been through hell together. That tends to accelerate relationships.”

He laughs softly. “True.”

“So... children?” I prompt gently.

“I always assumed it wasn’t an option for me,” he admits. “Male omegas have low fertility rates to begin with, and I never wanted to be with a traditional alpha pack. But now...”

“Things are different,” I finish for him.

“Yes.” His hand rests briefly on his abdomen in an unconscious gesture. “The virus changed us in ways we’re still discovering. Mona’s research suggests our designation adaptations might have... created possibilities.”

“You mean biologically?”

He nods. “She’s been studying how the virus affected reproductive markers. It’s preliminary, but she thinks our particular configuration might be compatible in ways traditional designation science would say is impossible.”

“Specifically how?” I ask, genuinely curious.

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