Page 72 of Reckless: Collision

Our moment shatters as Jinx returns, the scent of cherry tobacco and danger preceding him. He balances a tray of drinks with surprising grace for someone who radiates chaos.

“Lemon drops for our resident hacker,” he announces, setting down glasses that glow like nuclear waste under the club lights. “Since you seem to have a thing for citrus.”

Cayenne grabs one without hesitation, throwing it back in a single motion that makes my omega instincts both purr and worry. The glass hits the table with deliberate precision.

“Another,” she demands, but her voice carries an edge that wasn’t there before. Below, Aria laughs at something her pack says, the sound barely reaching us through the glass. The distance feels larger than just physical space.

“Careful, Glitch.” Jinx slides another drink her way, but his eyes hold that feral understanding that says he recognizesrunning when he sees it. “Can’t hack your way out of a hangover.”

“Watch me.” She grabs the second shot, but her hand trembles slightly. “I’ve done harder things than process alcohol while my head tries to explode.”

I catch Jinx’s gaze over her head, seeing my own concern mirrored in his amber eyes. Because this? This isn’t about the drinks. This is about seeing everything she left behind to keep them safe. About watching her best friends live the life she might have had if Sterling Labs hadn’t painted a target on her back.

“You know what I think?” I settle into the couch, my omega instincts demanding I create a safe space for what comes next. “I think it’s time you tell us what was worth sacrificing everything. What you found in Sterling Labs’ systems that made you choose solitude over sanctuary.”

She stares at the empty glass, turning it so the neon lights fracture through the crystal like the pieces of truth she’s been holding back. When she finally meets my eyes, I see the weight of secrets heavy enough to crush worlds. “You sure you want to know? Some truths are like poison—they corrupt everything they touch.”

Jinx’s laugh carries that edge of beautiful madness that first drew me to him, that perfect blend of danger and devotion. “Baby, in case you haven’t noticed,” he moves closer, predator grace wrapped in leather and promises, “this pack? We don’t run from poison. We build immunity.”

The smile that curves her lips is sharp enough to draw blood, but I catch the flicker of hope beneath the blade. “Then maybe,” she sets down the glass with the precision of someone used to handling dangerous things, “it’s time to show you exactly what kind of venom runs through the Sterling bloodline.”

Chapter 16

Cayenne

I’m tipsy.Or rather, I’m pretending to be tipsy, which turns out to be its own kind of intoxication. The lemon drops sit warm in my stomach, a convenient excuse for loose lips and looser morals. Not that I needed either—the slip about my name was calculated recklessness dressed as drunken honesty.

Sterling Labs. Cayenne Sterling. My fingers trace the letters of both names in my palm, each one burning like code etched directly onto my skin. The connection sits between us as obvious as Jinx’s leather pants, but I let my eyes unfocus slightly, my posture loosen in calculated increments that suggest alcohol-loosened inhibitions rather than the careful chess move this revelation actually is.

My heartbeat maintains its steady rhythm even as their scents sharpen with interest—the physical evidence of a plan unfolding exactly as designed. Some patterns align too perfectly to be random—digital fingerprints where there should be none, identical strings in separate databases. Some truths demand strategic deployment rather than spontaneous confession.

Though if I’m being honest—and apparently that’s what we’re doing now—I don’t know for sure. The name could be exactly what it seems, a cosmic fuck you from whatever deitythought giving me Sterling’s name would be hilarious. But doubt is a luxury I can’t afford, not when betas are dying and the only lead I have is written in my DNA.

I could dwell on it. Could let the possibilities spiral through my mind like code fragments seeking completion. Could examine every interaction, every memory, looking for proof of connection or denial.

Or I could get off this couch before my thoughts betray more than my name.

“Is there a VIP little beta’s room?” I push to my feet, letting the alcohol I haven’t really consumed make my movements loose. Two lemon drops aren’t enough to blur my edges, but it’s enough to make them think I’m softening.

The things we’ll do to keep our secrets. The lies we’ll tell to protect our truths.

“Of course.” Theo rises with that omega grace that makes every movement look choreographed. No, he doesn’t just stand—he fucking glides, escorting me toward the door like we’re at some high-society function instead of an underground club.

Outside, Ryker maintains his post like the world’s sexiest bouncer. I give him a sloppy salute, playing up the tipsiness I don’t feel.

“She’s flagged,” he grumbles, ever the responsible alpha. As if he hasn’t been watching me all night with those steel-grey eyes that see too much.

I don’t bother with a comeback as Theo guides me down the hall. His presence beside me feels both comforting and dangerous—like everything about this pack.

“We don’t have personal bathrooms yet,” he says, emphasis onyetlike he’s already planning renovations in that artistic mind of his.

“Yet,” I echo, pressing a hand to his chest. A clear signal that I need to do this alone. Need space to execute the plan forming like elegant code in my mind.

Theo’s smirk says he knows I’m up to something, but he raises his hands in surrender. “As you wish.”

The bougie bathroom proves perfect for my purposes—multiple stalls, all occupied. Good. An audience means witnesses means alibis. I handle the biological necessities first because even master hackers have bladders, then position myself at the sink to wait.

Right on cue, the door swings open, bringing a cluster of giggling omegas. Their voices bounce off marble and chrome, creating the exact cover I need.

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