Page 104 of Reckless: Collision

“I like to call it accessible interior design.” I keep my tone light even as understanding dawns. He’s not here about my housekeeping skills. “Very feng shui.”

“Is it?” One eyebrow raises as he stands, and suddenly the room feels smaller. “Or is it packed for a quick exit?”

The question hits closer to home than I’d like. Because yes, maybe part of me has kept everything ready. Maybe part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For them to discover what I’m hiding. For it all to fall apart.

“Not everything’s about escape routes, Alpha.” But even I can hear the deflection in my voice.

“Isn’t it?” He moves closer, and I resist the urge to step back. “With you, everything’s calculated. Every move, every word, every...” his eyes fall to my messiest bag, the one that actually is packed for a quick escape, “choice.”

“You’re reading too much into this.” I wave my hand dismissively, but my heart pounds. “Some of us just aren’t neat freaks like you and Jinx.”

“Are we?” His voice drops lower. “Reading too much into it?”

“What do you want me to say?” I throw my hands up, frustration bubbling over. “That I like having an exit strategy? Fine. I do. Happy now?”

“No.” His jaw clenches. “I want you to admit that you’re planning to run. That the second this mission is over, you’ll disappear.”

“And what if I am?” The words come out sharper than intended. “I never asked for any of this. Never asked for a pack breathing down my neck, watching my every move.”

“You think that’s what this is?” He steps closer, and the temperature in the room seems to drop and spike at once. His cedar scent deepens, wrapping around me like a physical touch, making my skin prickle with awareness. His presence expands to fill every corner, but there’s something else there—something darker, hungrier. “Surveillance?”

“Isn’t it?” I lift my chin, refusing to back down even as my body betrays me, hyper-aware of every inch between us. “The training, the rules, the constant supervision—” My voice catches as he moves closer, his presence overwhelming every sense until the wall behind me is the only thing keeping me upright.

“It’s protection!” The words rumble from deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through the scant space between us. I flinch, not from fear but from how my body responds—heat flooding my veins, heart thundering against my ribs. His eyes drop to my throat where my pulse betrays me, and for a moment, the anger in his expression shifts to something far more dangerous. “It’s us trying to keep you alive. To give you something stable for once in your life.”

Theusfeels like a lie. Right now, with his scent flooding my senses and his body caging mine, there is nous. There’s just him, just this, just the electric current of whatever this is between us that we both keep denying.

“I didn’t ask for stability!” The words explode out of me. “I didn’t ask for any of you to care!”

“Well, too fucking late.” He runs a hand over his face. “Because we do care. Jinx is crocheting you things. Theo’swriting music about you. Finn’s actually sleeping better knowing you’re safe downstairs.”

Each revelation hits like a physical blow. “Stop.”

“No. You need to hear this. Need to understand what you’re going to destroy when you run.”

“I’m not—” But the lie dies in my throat.

“You are.” His voice drops, becoming deadly serious. “And the worst part? You’re going to break them. Not me—I’ve seen enough people leave to handle it. But them?” He laughs bitterly. “Jinx will spiral. Theo will shut down. Finn will blame himself.”

Guilt claws at my chest. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Now he’s advancing on me, backing me against the wall. “You want to talk about fair? What’s not fair is you pretending this doesn’t mean anything. That we don’t mean anything.”

“I never pretended?—”

“You’re pretending right now!” His fist slams into the wall beside my head. “Every unpacked bag, every escape route you’ve mapped, every secret you’re keeping—it’s all pretense!”

The mention of secrets makes my blood run cold. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” His eyes bore into mine. “I see the way you calculate everything. The way you hold yourself apart. You think if you don’t unpack, don’t settle in, don’t let yourself belong, it won’t hurt when you leave.”

“Stop.” My voice shakes.

“No. Because you need to understand something.” He leans closer, his scent overwhelming. “This pack? We’re not temporary. We’re not a safe house or a mission or whatever box you’re trying to put us in. We’re real. What we feel for you is real.”

“I never wanted a pack.” The words come out barely above a whisper.

“But you got one anyway.” His voice softens fractionally. “And you can run. You can disappear. But you’ll always know what you left behind. Who you left behind.”

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