Page 119 of Reckless: Corruption

Theo moves with grace despite his heat symptoms, carefully arranging Finn in the reinforced cargo area. I hit the ignition, the engine purring to life with deceptive quietness.

“Where’s Jinx?” Theo asks, scanning the treeline.

“Creating his masterpiece.” I check my watch. “He’s got twenty-seven seconds.”

The wait stretches into an eternity, each second heavy with the knowledge that we’re leaving two pack members behind. The weight of command sits like lead in my chest—the burden of making choices that might save most of us at the cost of some.

This is the part they never taught in tactical training, the part that keeps alphas awake long after missions end. Every command decision carves another scar into you—invisible to others but felt with every breath.

Cayenne’s absence burns like a physical wound, her determination to go back for Mona both infuriating and achingly admirable. It’s exactly what I would have done. What any of us would have done.

Pack doesn’t leave pack behind.

But sometimes being in command means making the impossible choice between bad and worse, between who you can save now and who you have to trust will find their way back. The only thing worse than leaving them is the knowledge that if I’d ordered differently, if I’d insisted Cayenne follow protocol instead of chasing after Mona, she might be here right now. Safe. But she wouldn’t be Cayenne—the stubborn, brilliant beta who never follows orders she disagrees with. The woman who’s rewritten every expectation since she collided into our lives.

“Movement,” Theo warns, raising his weapon.

A shadow detaches from the treeline, moving too fast for normal human locomotion. Jinx hits the side of the vehicle at full sprint, vaulting into the passenger seat with inhuman grace.

“Drive,” he pants, blood spattering his grinning face. “Like yesterday.”

I don’t waste time asking questions. The ATV surges forward, tires grabbing forest soil as we accelerate away from the extraction zone. Behind us, fresh explosions rock the night, screams cutting through darkness.

“What did you do?” Theo asks, checking on Finn as the vehicle jostles over rough terrain.

Jinx’s laugh borders on psychotic. “Repurposed their own munitions. Theatrical, but effective.” He holds up his phone,displaying a countdown timer. “And I rigged the mansion. Full Protocol Zero. Three minutes until nothing remains but ashes.”

“What about Cayenne and Mona?” Theo asks, alarm flashing across his face. “If they go back?—”

“Left them the Ducati away from the blast radius,” Jinx answers. “Keys in the ignition, position marked with our signal. And I set charges to route them away from the mansion, toward the secondary exit.”

Some of the tension eases from Theo’s shoulders. “You thought of everything.”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” Jinx quips, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s watching the timer on his phone with grim satisfaction.

I navigate through dense forest, years of tactical training guiding my choices. The secondary extraction point is twenty-three miles north—an old hunting cabin converted into a safehouse with enough supplies and medical equipment to stabilize Finn until we can reunite with Cayenne and Mona.

“How’s he doing?” I ask, keeping my eyes on our path.

Theo’s hands move over Finn’s burning skin, administering the limited medications from our emergency kit. “Worse. Fever’s climbing, and his breathing is becoming irregular. The patterns on his skin are spreading.”

I glance back briefly, seeing the strange mottling creeping up Finn’s neck—like his body is physically fighting the virus’s attempt to rewrite him.

“He needs that booster,” Jinx says quietly, rage vibrating beneath his controlled tone.

The unspoken truth hangs between us—without Mona’s treatment, Finn might not survive the next twelve hours.

As we approach the edge of the property, Jinx’s finger moves to his phone screen. “Detonation in thirty seconds,” he announces, initiating the sequence remotely.

Exactly as promised,a distant rumble shakes the earth behind us, followed by a flash that momentarily turns night to day. Jinx’s phone displays a simple message: Protocol Zero complete.

“Everything Burns,” he whispers, satisfaction and loss warring in his voice.

“The mansion,” Theo murmurs, a tremor in his voice. “Our home...”

“Just a building,” I remind him, though the loss cuts deeper than I want to admit. That mansion had become more than a safehouse—it had become our sanctuary, the place where five broken people had started to heal together.

“All those books,” Finn mumbles suddenly, briefly conscious. “My research...”

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