Page 106 of Reckless: Corruption

“And then?”

His smile carries both anticipation and trepidation. “And then we all face the real heat. Together, if everything doesn’t goes as planned.”

The implication sends a shiver of anticipation through me—not just Theo’s heat, but the first one with our complete pack. With Cayenne fully integrated, the vaccine successful, the mission against Sterling’s facility in preparation. It feels like culmination, like completion of something we’ve been building toward since she first crashed into our lives like a wrecking ball with computer skills.

“She’ll be there,” I assure him, answering the unspoken concern in his eyes. “The vaccine is working. She’s recovering. Everything is aligning like the world’s most perfect cosmic joke.”

“I hope so.” His hands continue their careful aftercare, now applying salve to the marks he left on my chest and shoulders. “This was necessary, but it’s not the same.”

“I know.” No teasing now, just honesty. “Different needs, different dynamics. This was just managing the spike. Keeping you in control until everyone can be together for the main event.”

He nods, satisfaction evident as he surveys his handiwork—my body marked and tended with equal precision, a living canvas for his artistic expression. When he finally settles beside me, the dominant energy recedes slightly, heat temporarily sated through our exchange.

“Thank you,” he says simply, the words carrying weight beyond their simplicity.

“Always,” I respond with equal sincerity. “Whenever you need the chaos contained. Whenever you need to maintain control by controlling something else.”

His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with casual intimacy. “Rest,” he suggests, though we both know he’ll be gone before I wake—returned to his nest, to his careful management of the heat that will eventually claim him completely despite all chemical intervention.

As sleep begins to claim me, the chaotic energy that drove me all day finally quiet beneath his dominance, one thought surfaces with crystal clarity: when Theo’s full heat finally arrives, it will transform all of us. Not just him, not just me, but the entire pack—bound together in biological imperative transformed into chosen connection.

Images flicker through my fading consciousness—Cayenne’s changing scent, Finn’s recovering strength, Ryker’s tactical preparation for whatever comes next. Five broken people forming something stronger than any of us could be alone. The pool will be ready tomorrow, normal life continuing alongside our biological drama, our strategic planning, our inevitable confrontation with Sterling’s empire.

And for once, chaos takes comfort in the certainty of what’s to come.

Chapter 22

Cayenne

“Is that a floating unicorn?”I squint against the summer sun as Jinx tosses an inflatable monstrosity into the sparkling pool water. “Why does it have... combat boots?”

“Battle unicorn,” Jinx clarifies with a grin that borders on manic. “For tactical pool assaults.”

The backyard has transformed into something I barely recognize—string lights zigzagging overhead, the grill sizzling with burgers while Ryker stands guard with military precision, spatula in hand like it’s a tactical weapon. Theo arranges fresh-cut fruit on a platter with artistic flair, each piece placed with the same care he uses on his piano keys. Finn adjusts the music, his movements still careful. The vaccine has stabilized him, but the shadows under his eyes tell a different story—this improvement is temporary.

It’s almost disgustingly domestic. And somehow, I don’t hate it.

“Your chemical balance is sub-optimal,” Mona announces, appearing poolside in what might be the world’s most perplexing swimwear—a tutu over a wetsuit, paired with bright yellow goggles. “Highly inefficient chlorination. Much bacterial vulnerability.” She glances toward the wine cellar doors at theedge of the patio, a split-second look that would seem random if I hadn’t been watching for her tells.

“The pool is fine, Mona,” Ryker says without looking up from his grilling station, turning patties with the focused attention of a bomb technician.

“Fine is mediocre. Mediocre is?—”

“Fatal. We know.” Finn coughs, the sound wet and concerning despite his improvement. The harsh noise cuts through the summer air like a blade.

Mona’s head tilts, her manic energy pausing as her eyes narrow. “Respiratory efficiency decreasing. Interesting. Your viral response shows degradation.”

“I’m fine,” Finn insists, but Mona is already in his personal space, listening to his lungs with a candy-colored stethoscope that appears from nowhere.

“Fascinating. The cell mediated immune response is recalibrating.” She pokes Finn’s chest with a finger capped in neon green nail polish. “You need a booster.”

“A what?” I ask, moving closer, something cold settling in my stomach despite the warmth of the day.

“Booster. Very important. Stabilizes T-cell response. Prevents viral mutation. Maintains vaccine efficiency.” She rocks back on her heels, suddenly all business beneath her chaotic exterior. “Without it, regression probability increases seventy-nine percent.”

“You didn’t mention a booster before,” Ryker points out, spatula raised like it might be a weapon.

Mona waves dismissively. “Obviously needed. Viral characteristics highly adaptive. Much mutation potential.”

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