Page 4 of Reckless: Chaos

“I’ll drink to that.” The words slip out before I can catch them, my glass sloshing slightly as I raise it in mock salute.

Keep it light. Keep it distant. Don’t let them see how much this is killing you.

“The truth is we need her on this.” Quinn massages his temples, and I recognize the gesture—the same one I make when I’ve been staring at code too long, searching for answers that don’t want to be found.

“Told you that.” The sass in my voice doesn’t quite hide the tremor.

“Do you still have the USB?” Quinn’s question carries too much weight, too much hope.

“Yep.” I pop thep, artificial cheerfulness a poor mask for growing dread. “Hid it in this house.” The fridge to be exact.

“Don’t open it. I need to find a secure location for you to look into it. We need to uncover exactly what they’re doing so we can reverse engineer it.” Another tired sigh. “I’m not mad that you created chaos.Again.” His words catch my attention, pull me from the whiskey-warm haze. “Betas are dying. Now isn’t the time for debates. We need to figure this out.”

The pleasant buzz of alcohol evaporates in an instant, replaced by a chill that starts at my fingertips and races toward my core. My mouth goes desert-dry, the taste of whiskey replaced by metal. Because this is real. This is happening. And somewhere in this mansion, hidden in its shadows, I might have the key to saving our people. Or condemning them.

I nod, swiping at another treacherous tear.

Why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for betas? Like I’m screaming into a void while my designation slowly disappears?

“Alright, stay low until we can get you a secure location to do what it is you do.” Quinn pauses, words heavy with meaning before the screen goes dark.

The silence that follows presses against my skin like a physical thing. No one speaks. No one moves. We’re all trapped in this moment, in this truth that’s too big to process.

“Am I dismissed?” Too much sass, too much defense, too much everything.

“No.” Ryker’s eyes bore into me, stripping away my defenses. “Sterling. The name can’t be a coincidence.”

I scoff, but the sound catches in my throat. “Don’t you think I don’t know that?” The glass hits the table harder than intended, whiskey sloshing. That’s enough of that.

“Who is Sterling to you?”

“The company?” Playing dumb feels safer than the truth burning in my chest.

“The CEO.”

“Listen.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting the fog of alcohol and exhaustion and fear. “I don’t know. And even if I was related to the founder that named it Sterling, I don’t know who it is. I was raised by my dead mother.” Each word comes out sharp, precise, cutting. “She gave me my father’s last name only to giveme the opportunity to find him one day. I never wanted to and I never needed to. We share only a name.”

“You better be telling me the truth.” The alpha command in his voice makes my teeth ache.

“Enough.” Jinx’s voice cuts through the tension, surprising us all. “Enough.”

“I think we should all head to bed.” Theo stands, and something in his movement draws my attention. Hope flickers across his face as he looks at me, and god help me, but I need that hope right now. Need something pure to hold onto in this mess of secrets and lies and dying betas.

Fuck it. I reach for him, and the way his face lights up makes everything—the mission, the confrontation, the weight of what’s coming—feel a little more bearable.

His fingers thread through mine, warm and sure, and suddenly he’s all I can focus on as he leads me from the office. The stairs prove a minor challenge, my feet less certain than they should be.

“It’s going to be okay, you know.” His lips brush my temple, sending shivers down my spine.

“It doesn’t feel okay right now.” I lean into him, into his strength, into the promise of sanctuary he offers.

His hand pauses on the doorknob, and when he looks down at me, I see understanding in his dark eyes. “Not every moment in life will be okay. Some moments will be hard and full of pain, and others joy.” He pulls me closer, and his scent—sheet music and night flowers and something uniquely him—wraps around me like a shield. “Come snuggle with me and find peace for right now.”

I sniffle, burrowing deeper into his embrace as he opens the door. Nothing could have prepared me for his nest.

The room steals my breath. It’s not just a bedroom—it’s art. It’s sanctuary. It’s everything Theo is, translated into physical space.

A Roman-style room stretches before us, ceiling soaring overhead where a circular engraving draws the eye to the center. Below it, sunken into the floor like some decadent secret, lies a circular bed draped in gauzy fabric that falls from the molding above. The sheets and blankets form a perfect nest, and among them—my heart catches—I see my clothes. My hoodie. My shirts. Not just tossed there, but carefully arranged, woven into his space like he’s weaving me into his life.

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