Page 35 of Reckless: Collision

My watch starts beeping—heart rate elevated, it warns uselessly. As if I couldn’t tell from the way my pulse pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Warm fingers wrap around my wrist, and Cayenne’s face swims into focus. “Your heart rate is high.” Those green eyes lock onto mine with surprising intensity. “Breathe. You wanted to take a walk?”

I should say something. Anything. Instead, I manage to think very loudly about how I’d rather die than continue being this awkward.

“Still very much alive,” she smirks.

“I said that out loud.” Of course I did. Because apparently, my mouth has declared independence from my brain. *I’m usually more composed than this. Though statistically speaking, my social awkwardness increases by 47% when dealing with attractive women.*

She leans in, pushing my glasses up my nose with a gentleness that makes my heart stutter for entirely different reasons. “Not awkward,” she says, though we both know that’s a lie. She grabs the jacket and hauls me to my feet like I’m not having an existential crisis. “Come on. Talk to me.”

“I...”Would you like to hear about the statistical improbability of successful escapes from this property? Or perhaps we could discuss the fascinating correlation between beta autonomy and pack dynamics?

Words. I know words. I have multiple degrees that prove I can string sentences together.

“Good start.” She links her arm through mine, steering us away from the house. “The fence is overkill.”

“Ah...”Actually, the fence height was calculated based on optimal security parameters while accounting for various escape vectors. But those words stay locked behind my teeth as she adjusts our direction away from the front of the house.

“Though this hill here,” she points to the slope that leads to the very back of the property, “looks like an incredible sledding hill. But I need to know the likelihood of death if my sled hits the fence.”

“High.” I finally find my voice, and now my heart is racing for an entirely different reason.I could tell you about the exact trajectory calculations Jinx and I worked out to avoid fencecollisions.“Though there is a spot that you can sled without imminent death.”

“I’m going to need to know exactly where that is.”

“Naturally.”I could show you all the safe places here. All the spots where even chaos feels like home.“It’s on the other side.” I point in a direction I know by heart because it’s where I’ve found Jinx many times after a snowfall, when his demons drive him to seek the rush of speed and cold.

“Perfect.” She leads me in that direction but we have to pass the pool and back patio first. “You know keeping me locked up won’t work.”

I sigh because the hard conversations are necessary.I could explain the complex risk assessment matrices we’ve developed.“I’m starting to notice that.”

“It’s important to me you know.” She pauses and turns to face me. “What I was working on.”

“I know.” And I do because if I’d been stripped of all my devices, all my data, all my ways of making sense of the world, I would probably act the exact same way.We’re not so different, you and I. Both trying to decode the world in our own ways.

“You’ll have to come up with an alternative.” She crosses her arms defiantly. “I’m not going back in there to a locked basement. I won’t do it. I’d rather die out here in the cold.”

Let me show you something that might change your mind. “Come on.” I sigh, leading her away from the house. I’m about to share my secret place, my own escape from the chaos of pack life. The words I’ve practiced for sharing this special spot die unspoken, replaced by the hope that maybe actions will speak louder than my fumbling attempts at communication.

“Are you going to kill me out there?” She asks before running to catch up. “Scratch that, I’d be able to take you.”

“I wouldn’t argue that.” I huff out a partial laugh. “You know, we’re not so different, you and I. Both trying to decode the worldin our own ways.” The words slip out before I can overthink them, probably because she makes me feel less guarded than I usually am.

“A beta in an alpha pack.” She pokes at me. “Isn’t that like, not normal?”

“Define normal.” The challenge in my voice surprises even me as I find the path I’ve worn into the earth. It’s a bit whimsical, and I really hope she doesn’t judge me too harshly. “The statistical probability of beta inclusion in alpha packs is actually higher than most people realize.”

God, I’m talking statistics. Kill me now.

But she just grins. “Well, a pack usually consists of one omega,” she ticks off on her fingers, “and a bunch of horny alphas.”

“I won’t deny that.” I wrinkle my nose, thinking of our pack’s unique dynamic. “You don’t have a lot of experience with packs, do you?”

She looks affronted. “Of course I do.” Her eye twitches.

“That’s a lie.” The words come easier now as we walk. “Not every pack is all alphas. Some of us find our families in unexpected places.” I pause, wondering if I should share more. “Like how I found mine—or rather, how Jinx found me.”

“This doesn’t at all surprise me.” She deadpans, but there’s genuine curiosity in her eyes.

---