Page 13 of Reckless: Corruption

His hand moves to his radio. I’m on him before he can key the mic.

“Marco,” I sing into their comm line.

Below, our decoy frantically whispers into his radio. I time my descent with his panicked breathing.

“Boo,” I whisper against his neck. He spins, weapon drawn. My knife finds his gun hand, pinning it to the wall.

“Shhh. You’ll wake the neighbors.”

“Three tangos moving to your position,” Finn warns.

“Good. I was hoping for a party.”

The first tactical team member rounds the corner just as I swing their friend into his line of fire.

“Marco!” I call again. “Come on, guys. Polo isn’t that hard to say.”

A burst of gunfire answers. Sloppy. Scared.

“You’re fucking insane,” my human shield whimpers.

“No, darling. I’m just really, really good at my job.”

I spin our decoy around. “Tell Sterling something for me?”

He shudders. “What?”

“The psycho squad sends their regards.”

The dance begins—a neat slice behind one knee, a precise strike to disable without killing. Like conducting an orchestra of agony.

“That’s it,” I purr, spinning between their clumsy return fire. “Dance for me.”

I keep them all alive—mostly. A few missing fingers, some artistic knee work. Sterling needs to see my artistry, understand exactly what kind of monster he’s invited to play.

When I finish, they look like a living art installation. I key their radio one last time: “Polo.”

“Status?” Ryker asks.

“Five down, all breathing. Mostly. Ready for collection and questioning.”

“Clean?”

“Please. When am I not?”

As I melt into shadows, leaving our prizes for collection, my hands shake with leftover adrenaline and barely contained rage. The beast in my blood howls for more, but I cage it behind my ribs. Let Sterling see what happens when you take something from the psycho squad.

I reach again for that fraying thread of pack bond that leads to Cayenne. It’s still there—weaker than before, pulsing with something that might be pain or fear, but definitely alive.

We’re coming for you, Glitch. Just hold on.

When I return to base, I find Theo waiting by the door, his artistic hands fidgeting with worry. The pre-heat scent rolling off him hits my system like a freight train—dark vanilla deepening to something that makes my blood burn. The alpha in me reacts instantly, protective instincts warring with possessive hunger.

He doesn’t say anything, just steps closer until his jasmine scent wraps around me, calming the beast. Ryker and Finn will handle the interrogations tonight. For now, our omega needs reassurance that his alphas haven’t abandoned him too.

“Did it help?” Theo asks, his voice rough with strain as we walk toward his nest, my body hyper-aware of his heat-tinged presence beside me.

“It will,” I promise, both to him and myself, fighting the urge to pull him close and drown in his scent. Not now. Not until we’re all together again. “Tomorrow, we find her.”

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