Page 19 of Reckless: Collision

Jinx’s lips curl into that feral smile I’ve come to dread. The one that usually precedes violence. Or worse—ideas.

“I’ll need my equipment,” Cayenne says, chin lifting in defiance.

“Absolutely not,” Finn and Quinn say in unison.

“Your equipment stays in storage until we determine the threat level,” Malachi says. “Consider yourself on forced vacation.”

A harsh laugh escapes her. “Vacation. Right. Under house arrest with strange alphas. Perfect.”

“Not strange,” Jinx drawls, his first words since entering. “We’ve met.”

I’m going to kill him. Slowly. Creatively. Right after I figure out how to keep this powder keg of a situation from blowing up in all our faces.

“Meeting adjourned,” Malachi announces before I can act on that impulse. “Pack Locke, you’re back on active status, effective immediately. Don’t make me regret this.”

Everyone starts gathering their things. I stay seated, watching Jinx watch Cayenne as she storms out of the room, unicorn pajamas and all. My pack’s future depends on protecting her. On keeping her alive despite her apparent death wish.

And my second just complicated everything by fucking her in a bathroom.

I catch Jinx’s eye again. He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t submit. Just grins that bloodthirsty grin.

“This is going to be fun,” he says.

Yeah. That’s one word for it.

Another would be catastrophic. Or maybe suicidal. But watching the way Jinx’s eyes track Cayenne’s exit, the way her scent lingers in the air between us like a challenge—like destiny—I’m beginning to understand why Malachi chose us.

Her scent clings to the room long after she’s gone, tormenting my senses with what it means. What it could mean. A beta shouldn’t be able to trigger a scent bond. Shouldn’t be able to make my alpha instincts howl with recognition, with need, with the primal certainty that she’s meant to be pack.

But she does. And from the dark hunger in Jinx’s eyes, the way Finn’s shoulders have gone tight with borrowed instinct through our pack bond, I know I’m not the only one who feels it.

Takes crazy to guard crazy. And we’ve got that in spades.

Especially now that we’re all trying to pretend we haven’t just scented our mate in unicorn pajamas.

Chapter 4

Cayenne

I could run.

The thought hits like an electric current, making my toes curl against the marble floor. I used to run track for fun, back before I learned that keyboards were better weapons than feet. Sure, my ass jiggles now in ways it didn’t in high school, but muscle memory doesn’t lie.

Three, maybe four weeks of consistent training.

But where would I go? Every safehouse I know is compromised. Every contact is being watched. And the drive burning a hole in my pocket feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, heavy with Sterling Labs’ secrets that nearly got me killed. Just thinking about sharing their name makes me feel sick.

God, I need my computers.

My fingers literally itch with the need to decrypt what I found in Sterling Labs’ files, to dive deeper into the beta illness data trails that nearly got me killed. Every news alert about another beta hospitalization feels like a personal failure now that I know the truth.

Two security guards step out, blocking my entrance to the elevators.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” My bare foot taps an impatient rhythm against the marble floor as I glare at the alpha bastards towering over me. My toes are probably leaving prints on the pristine surface. Good. Let them remember the beta who didn’t know her place.

“Come on, trouble.” That damn sex-soaked voice calls from behind me, way too close for comfort. Close enough that heat crawls up my spine, unwanted and undeniable.

I spin around, coming face to face with Pack Locke. Ryker-fucking-Locke, who looks like he catalogs exits and weapons as naturally as breathing. The kind of alpha whose control is just a pretty wrapper around something lethal. The kind of alpha that makes me want to do something stupid—like hack his personal files just to see what makes him tick.

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