Page 98 of Reckless Consequences

I wake an hour before dawn,reaching instinctively for the pack bonds before my eyes even open. The familiar connections wrap around me like a shield against the darkness—each one distinct, each one vital.

My chest expands with a slow, deep breath as I check each presence, muscles relaxing with each confirmed connection. It reminds me of nights in the field when I’d count my men before sunrise, making sure everyone made it through another night. Only this—this is different. More personal. More necessary.

Theo’s sleeping presence feels like warm honey, his omega energy a steady pulse at the center of our unusual configuration. His dreams must be peaceful. I can almost taste the contentment flowing through our bond.

Finn’s mind never truly shuts down, even in sleep—equations and patterns I’ve learned to recognize as distinctly him.

Jinx is actually resting for once, his usual wildfire banked to glowing embers. The nightmares that used to wake him thrashing have become rare these days.

And Cayenne... Something about her connection feels stronger this morning, brighter somehow. Her hybrid presence has evolved since Aurora, the beta foundation enriched with omega notes that make our bond deeper than I’d thought possible. She feels close, even across the room. Essential.

I slide carefully out from under the sheets, my body moving on ingrained habits despite the relative safety we’ve built here. The others are sprawled across our oversized bed—Theo curled against Finn’s side, Jinx starfished at an impossible angle, Cayenne’s red hair spilling across her pillow. The sight hits me in the chest, a physical ache of protectiveness I’ve stopped trying to fight. My muscles tense briefly before releasing with a satisfaction that runs bone-deep.

The wooden floor creaks slightly under my bare feet as I pull on clothes. I take a moment to adjust the blanket over Cayenne’s exposed shoulder, allowing myself one touch before heading out. Same morning ritual as always: perimeter check first, then training.

The mountain air smacks me in the face when I step outside, cold enough to make my lungs sting. It’s the kind of sharp clarity I’ve always preferred—no ambiguity, no hidden threats masked by heat or humidity. My shoulders square automatically, stance widening slightly as I scan the territory, mapping every sound and scent into a mental security grid.

The sky is just beginning to lighten, stars fading as purple bleeds into the blackness. Millions of years of cosmic light, yet I still find myself thinking about the view in tactical terms—visibility, cover, exposure.

Old habits.

Our territory stretches out around me—twenty acres of forest and meadow with another hundred of buffer land beyond that. I’ve never wanted to be the kind of alpha who craves territory or dominance for its own sake. But this land, protecting this specific collection of people? That’s different. That’s purpose.

I move the route on autopilot now—every corner, every sensor checkpoint etched into muscle memory. The motion detectors pick up nothing but raccoons and wind, and the cameras confirm it—quiet night. The barriers are holding.

What used to take hours, I clear in under forty-five minutes. That’s not luck—it’s the system. Finn’s logic, Cayenne’s code, and my boots-on-the-ground paranoia. Between the three of us, we’ve built something tighter than any military base I’ve ever set foot in. And I’ve seen a few.

When I reach the eastern ridge, I pause to take in the view. The first rays of sunlight are spilling over the distant peaks, turning the valley into a pool of gold. My shoulders relax with each confirmed security point, breathing deepening as I establish territory safety.

A year ago, I would have used this vantage point purely for strategic assessment. Now, I find myself simply appreciating the beauty of it. There was a time when sunrise just meant we’d survived another night. Now it feels like a beginning rather than merely an extension of survival.

Theo’s words from last week come back to me unbidden. Family. The future. Children. The conversation has lingered with all of us, opening possibilities none of us had dared consider before. Even now, the thought sends an unexpected warmth through my chest that has nothing to do with the rising sun.

With a shake of my head, I turn back toward the house. There will be time for contemplation later. For now, I have a schedule to maintain. Training first, then the final security installations in the east wing.

The training space we’ve built is state-of-the-art, converted from what was once a massive garage. One wall holds an array of weapons—from traditional firearms to more specialized equipment I’ve insisted on keeping ready despite our decreased threat level. Another is lined with monitoring screens displaying security feeds. The center is open, with impact-absorbing mats and various equipment arranged to my specifications.

I’m halfway through my warm-up routine when the door swings open, letting in the distinctive scent of cherry tobacco and barely-controlled energy.

“Morning, Commander.” Jinx saunters in wearing workout clothes, that predatory grace in his movements more refined than when we first met but no less dangerous. “Room for one more?”

I nod, continuing my stretches. “Sleep okay?”

“Better than usual.” He drops his towel on a bench and starts his own warm-up, a bastardized version of military protocols he’s modified to suit his more chaotic style. “Must be the mountain air.” His grin turns sharp. “Or maybe just knowing Sterling Industries officially went bankrupt yesterday.”

A flicker of satisfaction curls through me at that news. We’ve been following the dismantling of Roman’s empire piece by methodical piece. Whether he survived Aurora’s collapse remains unknown, but his power has been systematically broken down, his company torn apart, his research exposed and discredited.

“You see the news about the designation equality legislation?” Jinx asks, flowing through a series of movements that blend martial arts with his parkour style. “Fourteen more countries signed on. Quinn says it’s gathering momentum like nothing he’s ever seen.”

“Good.” I match his movements, our training styles having evolved to complement each other rather than compete. We used to fight for dominance—two alphas instinctively challenging each other. Now we operate as counterweights, his chaos balanced by my discipline, my rigidity softened by his adaptability.

We shift into sparring without needing to discuss it. His style is all controlled ferocity—unpredictable yet precise. Mine is methodical power, each strike calculated for maximum effect. We’re evenly matched despite our differences—maybe because of them.

“Theo’s idea got me thinking,” Jinx says during a brief pause, both of us breathing hard. “About the future. About what we’re building.”

I raise an eyebrow, circling him as we reset. “Yeah?”

“Never thought I’d want it.” His admission comes between strikes, words punctuated by the thud of fists against training pads. “Family. Stability. All that shit.”

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