Page 99 of Reckless Consequences

“And now?” I block a complex combination, redirecting his momentum.

Something almost vulnerable flashes across his face before his usual smirk returns. “Now I’m helping design a fucking security system for a mountain fortress where my pack is talking about having kids someday.” He shakes his head. “Life’s weird.”

I laugh—a sound that still feels foreign sometimes—and the momentary distraction lets him slip past my guard. “Life’s definitely weird.”

He recovers immediately, countering with a move that nearly takes me to the mat. “Finn and I are heading into town today. Supply run. Theo’s coming too—wants to look at some fancy wood for his music room.”

“Need me along?” I ask, though I already know the answer. We’ve established routines for these supply runs, the threat level low enough that splitting the pack temporarily no longer raises immediate security concerns.

“Nah. Routine stuff.” Jinx lands a solid hit to my ribs, grinning with satisfaction when I grunt. “Besides, someone’s gotta babysit our resident hacker. Make sure she doesn’t reprogram the security system for shits and giggles.”

The mention of Cayenne brings her presence in our bond into sharper focus—bright energy moving through the house now, fully awake and likely already working.

We finish with a final round of sparring before cooling down. Jinx’s movements have grown more precise over the months, his feral energy channeled rather than contained. The change suits him—not diminishment but refinement, chaos directed instead of restrained.

“We’ll be back by dinner,” he says as we head for the showers. “Theo’s planning something special. Said it’s a surprise.”

“Aren’t they always with him?” I’m still adjusting to the omega’s flair for transforming ordinary moments into celebrations—finding beauty in routine that my military mind sometimes struggles to see.

Jinx laughs, the sound easy in a way it wasn’t months ago. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

After showering, I check my phone for updates from Quinn—still our primary external contact despite our decreased reliance on Omega Guardians. Nothing urgent, just a news summary and confirmation that Mona’s research continues to progress at what he terms “alarming efficiency.”

The others are preparing to leave as I enter the kitchen. Theo hands me coffee without being asked, omega intuition as precise as ever when it comes to the pack’s needs.

“There’s food in the warmer,” he says, gathering his things. “Security system updates going okay?”

“Final installations today,” I confirm, accepting the coffee with a nod of thanks. “East wing should be fully integrated by this afternoon.”

“Good.” He hesitates, glancing between me and Jinx. Something passes between them—unspoken communication that would have once triggered my suspicions but now just registers as normal pack dynamics.

“We shouldn’t be long,” Finn adds, tablet in hand as always. “Four hours maximum, barring unexpected complications.”

“Take your time,” I tell them, leaning against the counter. “Everything’s quiet here.”

They leave with the ordinary chaos of people who live together—last-minute reminders about shopping lists, good-natured bickering about who’s driving, Theo’s instructions about dinner preparations. The sound of the SUV fades down the mountain road, leaving the house in unexpected silence.

I finish my coffee and check the time. Plenty of daylight for the east wing installations. I head toward the security hub, knowing that’s where Cayenne is likely to be at this hour.

The security hub occupies what was once a study, now transformed into a technological command center that would make government agencies jealous. Three walls are lined with monitors displaying various security feeds and system statuses. The fourth holds a massive touchscreen interface that controls everything from environmental systems to defense protocols.

Cayenne sits before the main console, fingers flying across multiple keyboards as lines of code scroll across her screens. Her red hair is pulled into a messy knot at the nape of her neck, exposing the claiming marks along her throat—alpha and omega marks that would typically be impossible on a beta. But nothing about Cayenne or our pack follows traditional designation rules.

Her hybrid biology has enhanced the bond, making the marks deeper, more permanent than standard beta connections.

She doesn’t look up as I enter, though I know she’s aware of me. Our bond pulses with acknowledgment, her presence responding to my proximity in ways that never cease to amaze me. The muscles in her shoulders ease subtly, her breathing pattern shifting to complement mine without either of us consciously noticing.

“Final installations?” she asks, eyes still on her screens.

“That’s the plan.” I move closer, scanning the displays over her shoulder. “System status?”

“Ninety-eight point seven percent and holding.” Her fingers pause momentarily as she tilts her head back to look at me. “The east wing integration should bring us to ninety-nine point three. Pretty much as perfect as security gets without a nuclear bunker underneath.”

“Not bad for a hacker who once thought firewalls were for breaking, not building.”

Her laugh hits me in the gut, a sound I’ve grown addicted to. “Who would’ve thought—a hacker, a psycho, and a control freak could build something government agencies would envy?”

I watch her work for a moment, appreciating the focused intensity that hasn’t changed since we first met. Everything else about her has transformed—from reluctant captive to essential pack member, from isolated hacker to integrated hybrid. But that brilliant mind, always three steps ahead of everyone else? That remains gloriously unchanged.

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