Page 116 of Reckless: Corruption

“What about me?”

“You adapted. Instead of being rewritten, you... evolved.” Her usual frantic speech slows, each word deliberate. “Beta plus. Enhanced designation without full transformation. Neither pure beta nor omega nor alpha, but something carrying elements of all three. Very rare genetic resilience. Much scientific significance.”

The words sink in slowly. The strange reactions from the pack, the way my scent has changed, the “omega-adjacent” comments—all taking on new meaning.

“So I’m some sort of designation hybrid?” I ask, mind reeling.

“Oversimplification, but essentially correct. Your body recognized the virus as a threat but adapted to it rather than rejecting it entirely. Very fascinating immunological response.”

Before I can process this revelation, we round the final corner. Daylight streams through an exit up ahead, the promise of escape so close I can taste it.

That’s when Mona stumbles, the blood loss from her arm wound finally taking its toll. I catch her before she falls, supporting her weight against my side. For once, she feels human—warm, vulnerable, needing protection rather than calculating it.

“Knew you’d come back,” she mumbles, fatigue breaking through her usual precision. “Very predictable alpha-adjacent behavior. Much protection instinct.”

“Alpha-adjacent,” I repeat, adjusting my grip to support her better.

“Your evolution. The emergence of latent traits. Very unexpected outcome.” She leans more heavily against me, her usual frantic energy fading. “Only you could spite daddy’s virus into creating something completely new.”

I adjust my grip, pulling her more securely against me. “Save the scientific lecture for when we’re safe.”

“Safe is relative. Very situational concept. Much contextual variability.”

Despite everything, I find myself laughing. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Her smile is genuine, if tired. “Obviously. Very deliberate personality construction. Much strategic chaos.”

We reach the exit, bright sunshine momentarily blinding after the dim tunnels. The extraction point is visible just beyond the treeline, where I can make out the shape of vehicles waiting. My heart leaps at the silhouettes of figures moving there—the pack, waiting for us.

“Almost there,” I encourage her, heart racing with a strange mix of fear and hope. Part of me can’t believe they waited, can’t believe they didn’t leave us behind when the five-minute window closed.

Behind us, something crashes—Alexander’s team breaking through the security door sooner than expected.

“Run,” Mona urges, trying to push away from me. “Very important mission. Much survival priority.”

“Not without you,” I say firmly, tightening my grip around her waist. “We’re doing this together.”

Her eyes widen with something that might be surprise. Or respect.

“Together,” she agrees. “Very unprecedented. Much family redefinition.”

As we break from the tunnel’s cover, moving toward the extraction point, my heart sinks into my stomach. The vehicles are there, but they’re already pulling away—dark SUVs disappearing into the treeline.

They left. They actually left.

The betrayal hits me like a physical blow, drawing a sound from my throat that’s more animal than human. After everything—after I finally chose to stay, to trust, to belong—they’ve abandoned us.

“No, no, no,” I whisper, picking up speed and dragging Mona with me. “We’re so close!”

The rumble of engines behind us signals Alexander’s team has broken through. They’ll be on us in seconds.

“Probability of capture increasing exponentially,” Mona observes, her usual clinical detachment returning despite the blood loss. “Alternative strategy required.”

I scan the area frantically, looking for anything—another exit, a hiding place, a miracle.

That’s when I see it—a flash of silver through the trees. Jinx’s Ducati, partially concealed by foliage, keys still in the ignition.

“There,” I direct, changing course. “They left us an exit strategy.”

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