Page 4 of Reckless: Collision

“At this hour?”

“These beta hospitalizations line up perfectly with our old case files. Tell me that’s coincidence.”

I hear shuffling on her end, then Quinn’s voice joins the call. “Your routine trafficking investigation just triggered three different security protocols I designed. Either you’re getting sloppy, or you want to be caught.”

“Or,” I counter, fingers still flying across the keys, my body humming with the thrill of the chase, “your protocols need work. I can think of at least four ways around that last tripwire.”

I chew the inside of my cheek and then... There.

“Listed them all in a text,” I add, smirking as my phone buzzes with the sent message. “Consider it a love note.”

“New?” Quinn cuts in, but I hear him typing. “Seriously though, Sterling Labs? Their security is?—”

“Suspiciously militant for a medical research company?” I finish, the first hint of real tension creeping into my voice. “Tell me why a pharmaceutical company needs black site-level encryption on their beta health records.”

“Cay...” Aria’s voice holds that note I’ve known since we were seven and I was convincing her to help me break into the principal’s office. The one that says she knows I’m about to do something either brilliant or catastrophically stupid. Usually both. “What did you find?”

I hesitate for a heartbeat, the code streaming across my screen suddenly feeling heavier. The playful mood evaporates like morning dew under a harsh sun. “Remember those trafficking rings we shut down last month? I was double-checking everything was still quiet, but I found something else. Beta hospitalizations in every district where we made arrests. Sterling Labs showing up at each scene with their mobile treatment units.”

“That’s just good PR, though, right?” Quinn’s typing gets louder. “Give me five minutes, I’ll run the data?—”

“Already in their systems,” I say, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. “And before either of you start lecturing me about risks, you might want to see what I just found in their research manifesto and medical files. These aren’t random illnesses. They’re following our exact raid pattern. Almost like someoneknew where to release—” I stop, the implications hitting me like a punch to the gut.

“The fact that you used the word manifestos is exactly why we worry,” Aria sighs. “Remember the DocuCorp incident?”

“Hey, that fire was barely noticeable.”

“It was on the news!”

“Barely noticeable on the news.”

Quinn snorts. “The headline wasTech Terror Sets Records Ablaze.”

“Which was totally dramatic. It was one server room, and those records were covering up illegal omega trafficking.” My voice hardens at the memory. Six months of our lives dismantling what we thought was the biggest trafficking ring in Puritan City. We’d been so proud, so sure we’d cut the head off the snake. But lately... “This feels the same, Aria. The patterns, the missing pieces—it’s like déjà vu, only worse.”

Silence falls on the other end of the line. Twenty years of friendship means Aria knows exactly where my mind is going. Why this matters so much. Why I can’t let it go. Not after what we discovered last time. Not after what we missed that nearly cost her, her life.

“Send me what you find?” she finally asks, which is not the protest I expected.

“You’re not going to tell me to back off?”

“Would you listen?”

“No.”

“Then we might as well help.” Papers shuffle in the background. “Quinn’s already tracking your signal, I’m pulling up Guard reports from tonight, and you’re going to be careful. Deal?”

“Define careful.”

“Don’t die,” Quinn offers helpfully.

“Such high standards you set,” I mutter, but I’m grinning as I dive deeper into Sterling’s systems. This is why I love them. Why they’re family. No judgment, just backup when I need it most.

The first sign something’s wrong is a power fluctuation. Just a microsecond of dimming lights, barely enough to notice if you weren’t looking for it. But I’ve been in this game long enough to recognize a power surge from extra systems coming online.

I feel my skin prickle, that same instinct that told me we hadn’t caught all the traffickers last time. That somewhere in the shadows, someone was still pulling strings.

Looks like I was right. Again.

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