Page 6 of Reckless: Chaos

His laugh is soft but carries heat. “Don’t tempt me to calculate those odds.” But he turns, ever the gentleman despite the predator lurking beneath his beta exterior.

I dress quickly, hyperaware of Finn’s presence even with his back turned. The clothes feel deliberate—fitted black cargo pants, a long-sleeve compression shirt, sturdy boots. The kind of outfit you wear when you need to move without restriction.

“Going to tell me what kind of sunrise viewing requires tactical gear?” I ask, zipping up the boots that definitely came from my room.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He turns back, and something flashes in his eyes as he takes in the outfit. “Ready to learn some tricks, little hacker?”

“From you?” I shoulder the backpack, noticing how it’s perfectly balanced. Another deliberate choice. “Always.”

His smile turns sharp as he leads me into the hallway, every movement calculated and silent. This isn’t the Finn I’m used to—the one who spends hours explaining coding theory over chess matches. This is an operator, someone who knows exactly how to move through shadows.

“First lesson,” he whispers, pressing close as we reach the main security hub. His breath ghosts over my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Every system has a rhythm. The key isn’t breaking it—it’s becoming part of it.”

His fingers fly over a keypad I never even noticed, hidden behind a panel that looks like ordinary wall. Numbers that make my cybersecurity brain itch with recognition.

“Fibonacci sequence?” I guess, watching how the numbers spiral in a pattern.

“Very good.” His praise hits something primal in my chest. “But that’s just the first layer. Watch.”

He guides me through a series of movements that feel more like a dance than a security bypass. Timing each step to the sweep of cameras, each pause to the pulse of motion sensors. It’s beautiful in its complexity, like watching code come alive.

“The system doesn’t just watch,” he explains as we slip through blind spots I never knew existed. “It learns. Adapts. But if you move with it instead of against it...”

“You become part of its baseline.” I finish, understanding dawning. “It reads you as normal background noise instead of an intrusion.”

“Exactly.” The pride in his voice makes me warm despite the pre-dawn chill as we finally reach a side door I’ve never seen used. “Last piece of the puzzle.”

His hands frame mine as he guides them over another hidden panel, teaching my muscle memory the pattern. The door clicks open silently, and cool morning air rushes in.

“That’s how you do it,” I breathe, pieces clicking into place. “How you come and go without anyone knowing. You’re not breaking the security—you’re dancing with it.”

“Smart girl.” His words carry heat that has nothing to do with intellectual appreciation. “Now, ready to see what else I can teach you?”

He steps into the darkness beyond the door, holding out his hand in invitation. Everything about this screamsterrible idea—following a predator into the dark, letting him lead me who knows where, trusting him with my safety.

I take his hand without hesitation.

“Gate house is the real challenge,” Finn murmurs as we move through pre-dawn shadows. “Not just systems to bypass, but a very human element to consider.”

I follow his lead, noting how he keeps to the tree line, using the landscape itself as cover. The guard house looms ahead, warm light spilling from its windows. Movement inside suggests the guard is very much awake.

“Marcus likes his routines,” Finn continues, voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. “Every morning at 4:45, he makes his coffee. Takes exactly six minutes. During which he?—”

“Steps out for a smoke.” I finish, remembering the pattern I’ve observed but could never exploit. “The cameras?—”

“Overlap in a fibonacci spiral, just like inside.” His hand finds my lower back, guiding me into a deeper patch of shadows. “But they have a lag of 2.3 seconds between sweeps. Not much, unless...”

“Unless you know exactly when to move.” Understanding clicks. “You timed everything—the guard’s habits, the camera sweeps, even the ambient light levels—to create a perfect window.”

His smile flashes in the darkness. “Now you’re thinking like an operator instead of just a hacker. Systems aren’t just digital. They’re human. Environmental. Mathematical. Dance with all of them...”

Right on cue, the guard house door opens. Marcus steps out, cigarette already between his lips. The cameras sweep right, then left, creating that 2.3-second gap.

“Now,” Finn breathes against my ear.

We move as one unit, his hand still on my back, guiding my pace. Not running—running draws attention—but flowing from shadow to shadow with precise timing. The gate itself should be impossible to bypass without triggering alarms, but Finn leads me to what looks like a maintenance panel.

“Count it down,” he instructs, fingers hovering over the panel’s edge.

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