Page 11 of Reckless: Corruption

“How’s he holding up with the pre-heat?” I ask, because we’re all pretending not to notice how his scent has been intensifying, how he’s fighting his biology to stay focused on finding Cayenne.

“He’s managing,” Ryker says, but the tension in his jaw tells a different story. “Says he can hold it off a little longer.”

“He shouldn’t have to,” I mutter, the beast in my blood growing hungrier at the thought of our omega suffering. “One more reason to find her quickly.”

I remember how One begged when Theo left, how he offered everything he knew just to have our omega return. Who knew designation addiction could be weaponized so beautifully?

“Four’s physical conditioning suggests combat training,” Finn observes, adjusting his blood-spotted glasses. “Royal Marines, maybe Swedish Special Forces.”

“You broke his fingers while checking his calluses, didn’t you?”

“Waste not, want not.” Finn’s smile holds no warmth. This is why I love him—the scientist who turns torture into elegant experimentation.

Movement on another screen draws my attention. Two thrashes in his restraints, probably remembering how it felt when Ryker demonstrated advanced water boarding techniques. Three just stares at the ceiling, courtesy of my own special brand of conversation.

“We’re missing something.” Ryker’s frustration bleeds through his control. “Four facilities, four different security protocols. Why?”

“Because it’s not four facilities.” Theo materializes like smoke, his usual grace shadowed by purpose. “It’s five. One let it slip during his last... session. Sterling has them compartmentalized. No one knows the whole picture.”

I lean back, letting the pieces click together. “So we keep collecting the pieces until we have a complete puzzle.”

“And then?” Finn asks, though we all know the answer.

I bare my teeth in what might be a smile. “Then we burn it all down. Find Cayenne. Extract her. And make Sterling regret the day he ever heard the name Locke.”

The intercom crackles. Four’s voice, hoarse but steady: “I know you’re watching. I know what you did to the others. I won’t break.”

“That’s cute.” I stand, rolling my shoulders as the familiar ice settles in my veins. “He thinks he has a choice.”

Ryker’s hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me. “Remember—we need him functional. Get the IP addresses for their secure servers, the proxy chain locations, and his biometric overrides.”

“Define functional.” But I’m already moving, the beast in my blood recognizing it’s feeding time.

Behind me, Finn’s voice carries a smile: “Try not to have too much fun.”

But that’s the thing about fun—like pain, it’s all about perspective. And I’m about to adjust Four’s perspective considerably.

Time to show him why they called us the psycho squad.

I’m halfway to Four’s cell when Finn’s voice cuts through my earpiece: “Movement at the main lab. Guard just left through the west exit. Solo, on foot. RealSight thermal imaging shows he’s carrying a Class-4 encrypted device in his pocket.”

My hand freezes on the door handle as competing instincts war in my blood. The familiar tremor starts in my fingers—theone that says I’m walking that razor’s edge between precision and frenzy.

A muscle in my jaw locks tight enough to make my teeth ache, the same tension that always precedes the violence. My skin feels two sizes too small, stretched thin over bones that want to break free.

Breathe. Focus. Don’t let the red haze take over. Not yet. Save it for when it counts.

The prisoner behind this door is a sure thing, already caged and waiting. But fresh prey in the wild? That sings to the monster under my skin.

“He’s heading toward the industrial district.” Finn’s typing creates a rapid-fire backdrop to his words. “CCTV shows him checking over his shoulder every thirty seconds. Sloppy. Like watching a Black Mirror episode where the victim doesn’t know they’re already dead.”

Too sloppy.

“It’s a trap.” Ryker’s voice carries the same certainty I feel in my bones.

A laugh builds in my chest, wild and sharp. “Of course it is.” I release the door handle, already tasting the hunt. “That’s what makes it fun.”

“Jinx.” Theo’s warning carries layers of concern. “Four can wait. If this guard is running scared?—”

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