Page 114 of Reckless: Corruption

“Bypassed. The new formula targets junk DNA sequences you didn’t even know existed.” Pride colors his voice. “It’s beautiful, really. It identifies genetic potential for transformation, then rewrites designation markers accordingly. Those with compatible genetics transform. Those without...” his eyes flick to where Mona’s case rests, “suffer rejection symptoms.”

Mona’s expression cycles through shock, calculation, and finally grim understanding. She knew some of this, but clearly not all of it.

“What does that even mean? Compatible genetics?” I demand, cold dread spreading through me as I think of Finn, his relapse suddenly making terrible sense. The virus isn’t just making him sick—it’s trying to rewrite him, and his body is fighting back because it lacks the genetic structure to survive the change.

“Whatever father decides is compatible,”Alexander replies. “Alphas with certain markers can be reduced to betas. Omegas reprogrammed to present as alpha. And betas...” his eyes rake over me, “well, that depends on their genetic potential. Like you—presenting as beta-plus rather than fully transforming.”

Understanding dawns like ice in my veins. “That’s why my scent has been changing. The virus is tampering with my designation markers.” The pack’s confusion, the mixed signals, the omega-adjacent responses—all of it suddenly clicking into focus.

“Smart girl,” Alexander mocks. “Though from what I hear, you’re still stubbornly beta. Just... enhanced. Father will be disappointed.”

Mona steps forward, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. “The virus was never meant to kill. Just identify potential for reprogramming. Very precise genetic targeting. Much designation manipulation.”

“And if the subject isn’t compatible?” I ask, already knowing the answer from the sick lump in my stomach.

Alexander shrugs. “System failure. Organ shutdown. Basically what’s happening to your beta friend right now.”

My hand tightens on the gun, fury burning away fear. Finn’s deterioration, the way the vaccine helped before he relapsed—it’s killing him because he’s fighting the transformation.

“And you knew,” I accuse Mona, betrayal bitter on my tongue. “You’ve known all along.”

Something unreadable flashes across her face—regret, perhaps, or calculation. “Suspected. Not confirmed. Daddy compartmentalizes research. Very deliberate information restriction. Much need-to-know basis.” She takes a breath. “But yes. Primary purpose always designation control. Why do you think I’ve been sabotaging his research for fourteen years? Very morally objectionable. Much ethical violation.”

Alexander laughs. “Morality from the omega who once poisoned an entire pack council? How rich.”

“Self-defense,” Mona repeats primly. “Also they deserved it.”

I keep my weapon trained on Alexander, mind racing. “So the vaccine you’ve been developing?—”

“Prevents designation manipulation,” Mona confirms. “Stabilizes existing markers. Much genetic protection. Not complete yet. Still needs refinement.”

“Which is why father wants it so badly,” Alexander adds. “The only thing standing between him and complete control over designation biology.”

The tactical team has been repositioning during our conversation—subtle movements that wouldn’t be noticeable to someone without Ryker’s training. But I see them. And from Mona’s slight tension, she does too.

“Well,” I say casually, “this has been an enlightening family reunion, but I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

Alexander’s smile is all teeth. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, brother.” I adjust my stance, channeling everything the pack has taught me. “See, I’ve spent weeks learning from alphas who actually care about their pack. Not just command presence, but protection instincts.”

“Very touching,” he mocks, but his eyes track the movement of my finger on the trigger.

“And you know what else I learned? That family isn’t about biology or designation.”

“Spare me the sentimental lecture?—”

“It’s about choice,” I finish. “And I choose Mona.”

Everything happens at once. Mona throws something that explodes in a cloud of acrid smoke. I fire two shots—not at Alexander, but at the fire suppression system overhead. Water crashes down, adding to the confusion.

Alexander lunges through the chaos, but we’re already moving. My body remembers the training—Jinx’s fluid parkour, Ryker’s tactical precision, even Alexander’s own lessons in Sterling combat methodology.

When his fist connects with my jaw, pain explodes through my skull like a system crash, but I use the momentum to carry through with a counterattack. My elbow finds that sweet spot behind his ear, just as Mona taught me.

Forty-three seconds of disorientation.

He staggers, equilibrium shattered, while Mona grabs the case and pulls me toward an emergency exit I didn’t notice before.

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