Page 15 of Reckless: Corruption

“How do you even get this information?” I ask, leveraging the wall to sit up, reclaiming a small piece of control through posture alone.

“I have my ways.” She pauses, expression going distant. “Also, your pack has anger issues. Very messy. No style. They redecorated three of daddy’s facilities.” A small smile plays at her lips. “The security footage was... entertaining.”

The mention of my pack sends an ache through my chest sharper than any of Alexander’s knives. I wonder if Theo’s pre-heat has progressed to full heat by now. The thought sends a pang of regret through me—he’d been fighting those symptoms, holding off for me. Of all the things I’m missing, being absent for that important moment for him feels especially cruel.

I reach instinctively through the tenuous bonds, searching for them in the emptiness. It’s like grasping at smoke—the connection stretched too thin by distance and whatever Sterling has built into this facility. Still, I can feel something—whispers of determination, of rage, of focused purpose.

They’re coming for me.

The knowledge settles in my bones like a promise, equal parts comfort and concern.

Ryker would be coordinating everything, his military mind mapping out every angle of attack.

Jinx would be barely contained violence, held in check only by his love for the pack.

Finn would be turning logic into weapons, finding weaknesses others would miss.

And Theo... Theo would be their emotional anchor, even as his approaching heat made everything harder.

My chest aches with missing them—not just as saviors, but as my home.

By the time Mona finishes detailing her plan to glitter-bomb a pack from Dubai, I’m sitting up straighter. The ache in my ribs is duller, my shoulder no longer screams with each breath.

“You heal fast,” she says, not bothering to hide the curiosity in her voice.

“You drugged me.”

“You’re welcome. Now we both have plausible deniability.”

Not buying that.

“Here.” Mona thrusts another lollipop at me. “For calories. Can’t have you dying of malnutrition before the real fun starts.”

I take it, noting the way she watches to make sure I actually eat it. “You’re weirdly nurturing for a psychopath.”

“Ugh.” Her face scrunches in disgust. “Take that back. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Says the girl feeding me candy in a dungeon.”

“It’s not a dungeon.” She glances around the cell with critical eyes. “It’s more like... a really bad Airbnb. One star. Would not recommend. No Wi-Fi, terrible snack options, and the staff has major boundary issues.”

“So did daddy dearest actually fall for your demon possession act?”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes so hard it looks painful. “He made me see three different exorcists. I convinced the first one I was the goddess Kali. The second one quit the church. The third one...” A small, disturbing smile plays at her lips. “Let’s just say he’s taking a very long sabbatical.”

“That’s both horrifying and impressive.”

“It’s a gift.” She produces a candy necklace from somewhere, looping it around her wrist like a bracelet. “Last month, I convinced a pack I was a sleepwalking cannibal. Just had to memorize some Norwegian black metal lyrics and practice my dead-eyed stare.”

I gesture at her current expression. “That’s... not practice though, is it?”

“Rude.” She bites off a piece of her candy jewelry. “By the way, your feral alpha? The pretty one who likes violence? He’s really living up to his reputation. Like, really living up to it. It’s actually kind of inspiring.”

My heart stutters. “Jinx? What did he?—”

“Nothing permanent.” She waves her hand airily. “Just some light maiming. Very artistic. Though the thing with the pianowire was a bit much. I mean, I appreciated the theatrical value, but daddy was not happy about losing that tactical team.”

Pride and worry war in my chest. They’re coming for me, but at what cost?

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