Page 83 of Reckless: Collision

I should argue. Should squirm out of his arms and defend my independence. Instead, I find myself melting into his warmth, my body betraying me in new and interesting ways.

“How long were you watching?” I finally ask.

“Long enough to see you master the basic course.” He adjusts his hold, but makes no move to set me down. “Long enough to know you’re stronger than you think. And maybe not as alone as you pretend to be.”

Just as his words warm my heart his next ones freeze me.

His nostrils widen and his body thrums with tension. “You’re bleeding.”

Chapter 18

Finn

I’m just finishingup a call when I hear the first thud on the roof. Then the second.

And the call was important. Vital even, despite the hour. I always answer Quinn’s calls, no matter what time it is. Hell, we went to college together, back when we both thought energy drinks and coding would change the world. These days, we’re lucky if they just keep it from ending.

“Yeah?” I answer groggily. The call comes in on the landline—the one that only very few people have access to. Because apparently in 2025, we still need landlines. Like we’re living in some kind of tech-noir dystopia. Which, considering recent events, might not be far off.

“Finn, hey, I’m not sorry to wake you.” Quinn starts, which immediately sets off all my internal alarms. No one starts a conversation at 2:30 AM withnot sorryunless the world’s about to implode. Or worse—someone’s touched his servers.

“What happened?” I sit up, already reaching for my glasses because whatever this is, I’ll need to see it clearly. Preferably with both eyes functioning.

“Who is it?” Theo mumbles from beside me, curling into my heat like the world’s most lethal space heater.

Shit. I woke him up. Add that to my growing list of crimes against pack harmony.

“Go back to sleep.” I press a kiss to his forehead, trying to salvage at least one person’s rest tonight. He mumbles something that might be Italian or might be a curse—with Theo, it’s usually both—before burying his head under a pillow.

Never and I mean never wake a sleeping omega.

“Now that I might be sorry about.” Quinn’s voice lacks its usual sass, which is never a good sign. Quinn without attitude is like Jinx without chaos—unnatural and probably dangerous.

I let the covers fall away and grab my pants, hastily pulling them on as I creep toward the door. Leaving it cracked, just in case I can sneak back in later. Though who am I kidding—with my luck, this call is about to ruin any chance of sleep for the next week.

“Talk to me.” I make my way to my office—and by office, I mean what used to be my walk-in closet before screens and surveillance equipment staged a coup. My ergonomic chair squeaks a welcome as I sink into it. At least something’s happy to see me at this hour.

“There have been some developments.” Quinn says, which is basically government speak forshit hit the fan.

“You got into her servers?” I’m talking about Cayenne, of course. Our resident hacker who’s probably giving Quinn an aneurysm right about now.

“No, the witch had everything on self-destruct.” Quinn curses in the background, and I have to hide my smile. Of course she did.

“She even hadNever Gonna Give You Upplay through the speakers.” Now he does laugh a little, and honestly? That’sthe most on-brand thing I’ve heard all week. “But we had a breach.”

I’m already pulling up my access to PCAS and OG, because sleep is clearly a fantasy at this point. “Where?”

“Omega Guardians.” The words hit like a punch to the gut. “We had to evacuate the entire building.”

My fingers freeze over the keys as scenarios—none of them good—flood my mind. The Omega Guardian building houses dozens of omegas. Omegas we promised would be safe. Omegas who trusted us to protect them.

Quinn continues into my silence, probably because he knows exactly what kind of guilt spiral I’m entering. “Everyone’s okay, but we had to move fast.”

I almost don’t want to ask. But information is what I do, even when it hurts. “What—” My voice catches because failing to protect omegas is basically number one on ourThings That Keep Us Up At Nightlist, right aboveJinx’s Impulse Controland slightly belowApocalypse.

“They’re playing with us, Finn.” Quinn growls, and I can practically see him pacing his office, probably surrounded by enough empty energy drink cans to fill a recycling center. “We caught it, but it could have been bad.”

Still, he’s dancing around whatever happened, which means it’s worse than bad. Quinn only gets vague when he’s truly scared.

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