Page 12 of Reckless: Corruption

“He’s not.” The pieces click together like a weapon assembling itself. “Sterling’s trying to draw us out. Testing our reach.”

My smile grows teeth. “Let’s show him exactly how far we can stretch.”

“Parameters?” Ryker asks, because even in this, we maintain precision.

“If it’s a trap, spring it.” I’m already moving, muscle memory taking me through weapon checks. “Let’s see what daddy dearest has planned for us.”

“Be careful,” Theo murmurs. “We can’t help Cayenne if we’re compromised.”

“Oh, piccolo,” I purr, using his native tongue just to hear his breath catch. “I’m counting on being compromised. That’s when they make mistakes.”

Finn’s voice carries equal parts amusement and calculation: “Target’s path suggests he’s heading toward the abandoned textile factory on Brunswick. Lot of blind spots in that area. I’ve deployed our quadcopter drones for aerial surveillance and hacked the traffic cams for a digital breadcrumb trail.”

“Perfect.” I pause at our arsenal, considering options. “How long until he reaches the kill zone?”

“Twelve minutes at current pace.”

I select my favorites—piano wire that sings like Theo’s music, knives that balance like Finn’s equations, tactical gear that would make Ryker proud. “I only need ten.”

“Jinx.” Ryker’s tone holds no alpha command, just understanding. “Make it look random. We can’t tip our hand yet.”

“When have I ever been predictable?” I check my reflection in a blade’s surface. The beast grins back, ready to play.

“Comms check,” Finn insists, ever our meticulous guardian. “I’ve activated the biometric monitoring so we can track your vitals. Any signs of compromised state and we initiate Protocol Delta.”

I tap my earpiece twice, already tasting copper and chaos. “Try to keep up, boys. Daddy’s going hunting.”

The night air hits my face like a lover’s kiss as I slip out into darkness. Behind me, Four can wait in his cell, marinating inthe sounds that echo through our playground. Right now, I have prettier prey to stalk.

And if Sterling wants to play games?

Well, that’s what the psycho squad does best.

The factory looms ahead, a perfect box of broken windows and rusted dreams. My prey moves like someone who thinks they know what fear is. Amateur. I’m about to give him a master class.

“Target’s wearing body armor under his jacket,” Finn observes through my earpiece. “Left shoulder holster, right ankle backup. And... interesting.”

“Define interesting.” I scale a fire escape without sound, muscle memory from a thousand hunts taking over.

“He’s got an earpiece too. Better tech than standard Sterling security. Military grade. Neural interface connector at the base—one of those new BrainSync models everyone’s been reverse-engineering since the leak.”

A laugh bubbles up my throat. “Daddy bought his decoy some fancy toys.”

“Two heat signatures on the roof,” Theo cuts in, probably watching through thermal imaging. “Sniper team.”

“Three more in the building,” Ryker adds. “Standard tactical formation.”

Oh, they really went all out. How thoughtful.

“Watch me make them dance.” I move across rooftops like the shadows they think they’re hiding in. Below, our decoy maintains his carefully panicked pace.

The way he checks his corners is textbook perfect—which is exactly the problem. Real fear is messier.

I time my descent with his footsteps, piano wire humming between my fingers.

The first sniper dies quietly, piano wire kissing his throat. His partner deserves a show—I let him see what’s coming, the fear flooding his face when he spots my smile.

“Hi there. Want to see a trick?”

---