Page 97 of Reckless: Chaos

Finn finds us like that—me pressed against Cayenne’s side while she demolishes pancakes with surprising enthusiasm. Hiseyes take in everything: the smoking pan, the TV still playing Sterling’s press conference on mute, the way I can’t quite stop touching our beta for reassurance.

“You cooked.” He adjusts his glasses, analyzing this new data point. “And apparently didn’t burn down the kitchen. Mostly.”

“Your faith in me is heartwarming.” Cayenne gestures to the stack of remaining pancakes. “Want some? They’re actually edible.”

“So I smell.” He settles across from us, precise movements betraying nothing of what he thinks about Sterling’s face still flashing across the screen. “Real maple syrup?”

“From Ryker’s stash.”

“Brave.” But his lips twitch as he cuts his pancakes into exact squares. “Speaking of our alpha,” Finn cuts his pancakes into exact squares, “he’ll want to see this announcement.”

“I’m sure Quinn’s already recording it.” Cayenne’s voice stays perfectly casual. “He’s nothing if not thorough with his surveillance.”

I feel Finn’s attention sharpen, even as he maintains his relaxed posture. “Very thorough.”

“That’s Quinn.” She sips her coffee, the picture of innocence. “Always on top of things.”

Something passes between them—some beta-to-beta communication I can’t quite decode. But before I can puzzle it out, heavy footsteps announce Jinx’s arrival.

“Who the fuck tried to burn down my kitchen?”

I lean into Cayenne’s side, drinking in the familiar chaos of morning. This—this right here—is what I’d missed for so long after fleeing my family’s estate. The way Jinx stalks the kitchen like an offended chef, how Finn cuts everything into precise squares, Cayenne’s quiet laughter as she steals bacon from Jinx’s plate when he’s not looking.

This. This is what family feels like. Not the rigid formality of my childhood home, not the carefully orchestrated performances my parents demanded. Just people who fit together, broken edges and all.

Jinx drops a fresh plate of bacon on the table, swatting Cayenne’s hand away. “At least someone here knows how to cook meat properly.”

“Hey, my pancakes are perfect.”

“Your pancakes,” he points the spatula at her accusingly, “are suspiciously perfect. What did you do with the real Cayenne?”

Her laugh carries no hint of the tension from earlier, no echo of Sterling’s face still playing silently on the TV behind us. Just pure joy as she steals another piece of bacon right from under Jinx’s nose.

I press closer to her side, letting their banter wash over me. Let myself pretend this moment could last forever.

But my heat simmers under my skin, a warning of change to come.

Morning light paints us all in soft edges—Jinx perched on the counter despite Ryker’s disapproving look, Finn meticulously cleaning his glasses between bites, Cayenne leaning into my side like she belongs there. Because she does. She always has.

The TV drones on in the background, Sterling’s face replaced by news anchors debating the vaccine announcement. None of them see what’s really happening. None of them understand the game being played.

But that’s a problem for later. Right now, in this perfect moment of pancakes and pack bonds, I let myself memorize every detail. The way Cayenne’s laugh mingles with Jinx’s growl when she steals a third piece of bacon. How Finn’s eyes soften watching them play. The quiet pride in Ryker’s scent as he surveys his family.

His family. Our family.

My heat pulses again, a discord note in this morning’s harmony. Usually it brings anxiety—memories of arranged matches and expectations too heavy to bear. But now, watching my pack share breakfast and banter, I feel only peace.

Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

Won’t we?

But Cayenne’s fingers tremble slightly as she reaches for her coffee, and something in my omega soul whispers that this perfect morning feels too much like a goodbye.

I push the thought away, bury it under the warmth of pack and home and belonging. Let myself believe that some things are stronger than blood and destiny.

“Theo.” Ryker’s voice holds that alpha command that always makes my inner artist want to compose symphonies of submission. But when I meet his eyes across the kitchen chaos, there’s something else there. Something almost... vulnerable. “My study. Now.”

I follow him, catching Finn’s knowing look as we leave. He’ll keep Jinx from burning down the kitchen. Probably.

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