Page 46 of Reckless: Collision

His lips twitch, voice dropping to a register meant only for me. “I know.” He taps his nose confirming what I already knew.

The kitchen falls into a rhythm—Theo’s music providing the backdrop as Finn and Ryker restore some semblance of order to their space. It’s peaceful. Quiet. The kind of domestic moment that makes me think dangerous thoughts about belonging.

I hate it.

“About that drive.” Ryker breaks the silence, because of course he does. I glance over my shoulder to find him leaning against the island, all controlled power barely contained. Finn slides onto a stool beside him, those clever eyes watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s determined to solve.

Jinx continues swinging his legs beside me, decimating the bag of cheese one handful at a time.

“What about it?” I keep my tone light as I work the chicken, but tension creeps back into my shoulders.

“I think it’s time you tell us what’s on it.”

The music falters, then stops. Theo materializes at the counter like a gothic specter summoned by secrets.

“That wasn’t the deal.” I inject some sing-song playfulness into my voice, but my hands tighten on the tongs.

“There was a deal?” Jinx’s eyebrows shoot up. “Holding out on us, boss?”

Ryker rolls his eyes, but it’s Finn who answers. “The deal was to build trust.”

“With high-stakes trust falls,” I snort, focusing on the chicken like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Tell me more.” Jinx’s voice carries that edge of focused intensity that I’m learning means trouble.

“We build trust for her to tell us what’s on the drive,” Finn explains, like it’s that simple.

But it’s not simple. Nothing about this is simple. While I’m playing house with my deadly new roommates, betas are dying. Sterling Labs is hunting me, desperate to keep their secrets buried. If I could just access one computer, one phone—I could blast their data across every news network in the country.

“Your chicken is burning,” Jinx points out.

“It’s not burnt.” I bare my teeth in something approximating a smile, spatula clutched like a weapon. “It’s crispy.”

“Out!” The command slices through the kitchen’s chaos, carrying that distinctive omega resonance that bypasses thought and targets muscle response. My spine automatically straightens while goosebumps race up my arms. “All of you out. Go clean the dining room. Off you go.”

Jinx grumbles but complies, pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead that I definitely don’t lean into. The others file out, leaving me alone with an omega who sees too much.

The panic I’ve been fighting all day surges upward like bile, coating my tongue with a metallic taste while my peripheral vision narrows to pinpricks. My skin feels too tight, nerves firing in random patterns like a system reboot gone wrong.

I rub my fingertips together—the calluses from years of typing feel hypersensitive, screaming for the familiar click of keyboards. Behind my eyes, lines of code scroll endlessly, solutions and exploits and backdoors I could implement if I just had thirty seconds with a connected device, just thirty seconds to breathe in the digital world where I’m not trapped in this limited physical form with its messy emotions and illogical reactions and?—

“I know that look.” Theo rests his hip against the counter, and sweet hell, those leather pants with his partially unbuttoned shirt should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction.

“What look?”

“Like you’re going to run.”

“I’m not going to run.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

“Liar.” He says it softly, looking away. “I once ran.”

Those three words from Theo—I once ran—carry enough weight to pause my hands on the pan. It’s not just the words, but the way he says them. Like each syllable costs him something precious. Like he’s offering me a piece of himself I’m not sure I deserve.

“Once?” I prompt, returning to the chicken because it’s easier than looking at the raw honesty in his expression.

“A long time ago.” His profile could be carved from marble, all sharp Italian features and hidden depths. “My parents expected an alpha. They demanded an alpha. From the moment I breathed into this world, they groomed me for it.”

I sneak glances at him between stirs. His eyes have gone distant, seeing something beyond the kitchen’s gleaming surfaces. I say nothing. Sometimes silence says more than words.

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