Page 103 of Reckless: Collision

Even his pristine posture betrays him, softening at the edges despite his best attempts at severity. This is our dance now—his need for order wrestling with my chaos, both of us knowing neither will fully win but enjoying the battle anyway.

“This isn’t a game, Cayenne.” But there’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Really? Because I’ve got a high score to beat.” I reach over and bop his nose, leaving a slight dusting of cracker residue. “Previous record is three federal databases in under ten minutes. Think I can manage four?”

“I’m being serious.” He tries to maintain his stern expression, but I can see it cracking.

“Hi Being Serious, I’m Cayenne.”

“That was terrible.” But now he’s definitely fighting a smile.

“You love it.” I stand, making a show of brushing cracker crumbs off my pants and onto his immaculate floor. “Just like you love my chaos.”

“I tolerate your chaos,” he corrects, but his eyes are warm behind his glasses. “There’s a difference.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” I start backing toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go prepare for my mission impossible moment. Please tell me there’s a spandex suit involved. Something sleek, maybe with neon accents?”

He just blinks at me.

“No? Fine. But we’re definitely doing a Marvel marathon after this. Your pop culture education is severely lacking.”

“There’s de-scenter in the bathroom,” he calls after me, already turning back to his iPad. “We’ve provided you with?—”

“Ooh, do I get a utility belt too? Maybe some cool gadgets? A grappling hook?”

The look he gives me could freeze hell. “Out.”

“Sir, yes sir.” I throw him a mock salute. “This agent is reporting for pre-mission preparation.”

“This isn’t?—”

“A joke. I know.” I let the playfulness drop for a moment, meeting his eyes. “I’ve got this, Finn. I promise.”

He nods, and something passes between us—understanding, trust, maybe both.

I make my way through the quiet mansion, each step echoing in the unusual silence. The guys are all off doing whatever prep they need, and for once, I’m grateful for the solitude. Well, grateful for about five minutes—past that and I might actually lose my mind, but for now, it’s... peaceful.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since I arrived here. Two weeks without technology, without my constant digital lifeline to the world. I should feel naked, vulnerable, twitchy with need. And I do, but there’s something else too. Something I wasn’t expecting.

Peace.

Every day since my mom handed me my first shiny phone, I’ve been plugged in. Hungry for information, constantly feeding my brain with data, news, connections.

Every. Fucking. Day.

And now? Now it’s just my thoughts and no one else’s. It’s strange. Fleeting. Like catching smoke in your hands.

I know it won’t last. Tomorrow I’ll be back in the digital world, swimming through Sterling Labs’ systems, hunting for proof of what they’re doing to betas while helping the pack find their evidence about omegas. But right now, in this moment, I want to hold onto this feeling. This clarity.

Walking into the basement, I take a deep breath. The walls are still too white, too many clean lines begging to be broken up with splashes of color. But now it smells like me and a hint of...

Ryker?

“You haven’t put your luggage away.” He says, his voice deceptively casual. But I recognize the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tap once against the arm of the chair.

“What are you talking about?” I gesture at my organized chaos. “Everything’s exactly where I need it.”

“On the floor.” His eyes track over the scattered bags, the clothes draped over chairs, the boots lined up by the door. Ready to grab at a moment’s notice. Ready to run.

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