Page 16 of Reckless: Corruption

“Stop that.” Mona flicks my forehead.

“Ow! Stop what?”

“The whole oh no, they’re going to get hurt because of me thing. It’s boring.” She starts braiding tiny sections of her hair. “Besides, they’re having fun. Your beta—the hot nerdy one?—he calculated exactly how much pressure it takes to break fingers while checking for calluses. That’s dedication to the craft.”

I try to picture Finn, with his precise movements and analytical mind, systematically dismantling Sterling’s operation. The mental image blends with memories of chess matches in the mansion, the gentle way he’d explain his strategies even while thoroughly defeating me. Finn, who always made me feel capable instead of broken. It should disturb me how much the image of his methodical vengeance warms my heart.

“The omega’s my favorite though,” Mona continues, now unbraiding her hair with the same intense focus. “Very creative with the pheromone manipulation. Made three alphas cry yesterday. Just...” She mimes wiping away tears. “Beautiful work. Really understands the art of psychological torture.”

“Theo made alphas cry?”

“Honey, your pack?” She pats my cheek with something like pride. “They’re putting my chaos to shame. It’s actually making me a little competitive.” She pauses, considering. “How do you feel about weaponized glitter?”

Before I can answer, she pulls out what looks suspiciously like a homemade glitter bomb. “Never mind, rhetorical question. I already made three.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask, suspicion finally cutting through the haze of pain and sugar. “If you can see what the pack’s doing, so can Roman.”

Mona’s expression shifts subtly, something sharper emerging beneath the chaos. “Daddy sees what I let him see.” She points at the bubblegum-covered camera. “You think this is my first time playing with surveillance? Please. I’ve been rewiring this place since I was twelve. I’ve been injecting SQL exploits into his security systems since before most people knew what SQL was.”

“But the security systems?—”

“Are written by people who think I’m just daddy’s unstable little omega.” Her smile turns predatory. “Amazing what you can accomplish when everyone’s waiting for you to set something on fire instead of watching you code.”

She pulls out another lollipop, this one blood-red. “Besides, the staff likes me better. I only make them cry on Tuesdays. Daddy’s mean to them every day.”

The casual way she drops this information makes me reassess everything I thought I knew about my sister. Under her apparent chaos lies something calculating, something that’s been playing a much longer game than anyone suspected.

I study my omega sister—this beautiful, broken genius who’s been outplaying Roman and Alexander for years. Something inside me shifts, challenging everything I’ve been told about designation hierarchies. If this omega has been systematically dismantling an alpha’s empire from within, and this beta managed to hack Sterling’s impenetrable systems, maybe designations aren’t destiny after all. Maybe they’re just another firewall people use to categorize us—a limitation only powerful if we accept its parameters.

“Does Roman know you’re this smart?”

Mona’s laugh holds no humor. “Daddy thinks he knows everything about his facility. His security. His little omega daughter.” She unwraps the lollipop with deliberate precision. “But he only sees what he expects to see. And he expects me to be crazy.”

“So this is how you maintain your freedom?” I ask, pieces clicking into place. “Playing the unstable omega while actually running circles around him?”

“Freedom is relative in the Sterling household,” she says, voice suddenly flat. “Roman believes omegas exist to serve his vision of designation perfection—the crown jewels in his legacy. I’m just a flawed specimen he keeps around because my brain occasionally produces useful results.” Her oleander scent sharpens with genuine emotion. “The trick isn’t getting freedom—it’s making him think the cage was his idea all along.”

“Alexander’s going to try breaking you again tomorrow.” Mona says this like she’s discussing the weather, but something dark flickers behind her eyes. “He has a whole routine planned. Very methodical. Super boring.”

“You sound like you’ve seen his routine before.”

“Seen it?” She crunches through her lollipop with sudden violence. “I was his first test subject. Daddy wanted him to practice on someone expendable first.” Her smile goes sharp around the edges. “Joke’s on them though. Can’t break what’s already broken.”

The casual way she mentions her own torture makes my stomach turn. “That’s fucked up. He grew up with you.”

“Bold of you to assume growing up together means anything to Alexander.” She starts arranging candy pieces in a precise pattern on the floor. “But you want to know something interesting? For someone so controlled, he has these tiny tells. Like how he always leads with his right side because daddy made him practice until he forgot he was naturally left-handed.”

I file this information away, categorizing Alexander’s weaknesses like I would backdoor vulnerabilities in a security system—each one a potential exploit to be targeted with precision.

“Or how...” She pauses, tilting her head. “Did you notice how he gets sloppy when you mention his mother? Any mother, really. It’s like watching a computer glitch. Very entertaining. I used to do it during family dinners just to watch him malfunction.”

“That’s why you’re telling me this.” The realization hits like a punch. “You’re giving me weapons.”

“I’m sharing sisterly gossip.” She begins dismantling her candy pattern with the same focus she used to create it. “Like how he can’t stand the smell of lavender because that’s what the omega he actually loved wore before daddy had her disappeared. Or how his left knee never healed properly after that training accident when he was sixteen.”

The clinical way she catalogs our brother’s weaknesses sends a chill down my spine. How long has she been collecting these vulnerabilities, storing them away like zero-day exploits in a hacker’s black book? Alexander’s pressure points—mapped, documented, and ready to be executed with the precision of a SQL injection attack—the kind that bypasses all security and goes straight to the core.

“Why are you helping me?”

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