Page 7 of Reckless: Collision

“This feels like a metaphor for my life choices,” I mutter, hauling myself up, my feet scrambling for purchase on the cold steel.

“CAYENNE!” Aria’s voice could shatter glass. “What happened?”

“Nothing! Just... appreciating the architectural integrity of our fair city.” I scramble back to my feet, moving faster now, ignoring how the rough metal scrapes against my soles. “Hey,remember when we were kids, and you said I had no sense of self-preservation?”

“I say that at least once a week.”

“You might have been onto something.”

The wind picks up, making the whole structure dance. My unicorn pajamas flutter like a surrender flag, but surrender isn’t in my vocabulary. Not when I’m this close. Below, I hear the first sirens. Above, a shadow moves in the Westin’s window—my shooter, probably realizing their quiet elimination job just got a lot more complicated.

“By the way,” I add, nearly at the other building now, my feet numb from cold and adrenaline, “if I die, I want it noted that I looked fantastic doing it. The unicorn jammies alone?—”

“Not helping!” Aria and Quinn shout in unison.

I reach the end of the scaffolding, leaving me with a six-foot gap to the Westin’s maintenance ledge. Physics says I shouldn’t attempt this jump. Common sense says I should wait for backup. Every survival instinct says retreat.

But the thing about being a redheaded beta with authority issues?

Sometimes you just have to tell physics to fuck off.

“Quinn,” I say, backing up a few steps on the swaying metal, my bare feet finding their grip despite the cold, “I need a fast way in once I reach the forty-second floor.”

“If you reach—wait, are you seriously?—”

My cackle echoes all around me, wild and free and maybe a little unhinged.

“Fire door on the east side,” he cuts himself off with a sigh. “Security card readers on the same network as their cameras. I can kill it for three seconds.”

“This is why you’re my favorite techie.”

“I’m telling the other techies you said that.”

I take a deep breath, tighten my grip on my sparkly gun, and eye the gap. The concrete ledge beyond looks about as welcoming as my last blind date—cold, hard, and potentially lethal. “Hey Aria?”

“Yeah?”

“If this goes wrong, delete my browser history.”

Then I run. Three steps, heart pounding, wind howling, city spinning below. At the edge of the scaffolding, I push off with everything I have, launching myself into empty air. My unicorn pajamas flutter like wings that definitely aren’t going to do shit to help me fly.

For one endless moment, I’m flying. Or falling. Sometimes the difference is just a matter of perspective.

Time stretches like taffy as I sail through the air, my whole life flashing before my eyes. Mostly it’s just a highlight reel of terrible decisions, starting with that time I convinced Aria we should reprogram the city’s traffic lights to play Tetris.

I hit the maintenance ledge hard, rolling to absorb the impact and definitely not squealing like a startled kitten. Rough concrete scrapes my bare feet and palms, but I barely feel it through the adrenaline. My bedazzled gun catches the city lights, throwing tiny pink sparkles across the concrete like I’m starring in my own action movie.

“I’m in position,” I whisper, which sounds way more professional thanholy shit I survived.

“You’re insane,” Quinn corrects. “East fire door in three... two...”

The card reader blinks from red to green. I slip inside, immediately pressing against the wall as my eyes adjust to the dim emergency lighting. The forty-second floor is mostly empty offices, perfect for a sniper’s nest. Or for a game of heavily armed hide and seek.

My bare feet make no sound on the polished floor—small blessings. Though the chill seeping up through my soles makes me miss my fluffy unicorn slippers something fierce.

“So,” I murmur, checking corners as I move, “want to place bets on whether my shooter is corporate muscle or private contractor?”

“Cay,” Aria’s voice is dead serious, “Puritan Security response team is ninety seconds out.”

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