Page 36 of Reckless: Corruption

“Your medical supplies are adequate,” she continues, scanning the room. “But your organization is giving me hives. Not a color-code in sight. I could implement a system that would double efficiency and reduce treatment time by thirty-seven percent. I’ve prepared a presentation with supporting graphs.”

“Mona,” Cayenne manages through chattering teeth. “You’re babbling.”

“Babbling is a proven distraction technique with documented efficacy across species. The papers all have my fingerprints on them.” Her hands gentle as she works. “And your alpha is about to break something expensive if he doesn’t stop that pacing. It’s disrupting the mathematical perfection of these sutures.”

Jinx freezes mid-step, a growl building in his chest.

“Better. Though that growl could use work. I’ve analyzed threatening vocalizations across designation types. I could suggest optimal frequencies that would make even alphas take a step back.”

“How long?” Finn asks.

“Fever will break in approximately four hours if my calculations are correct, which they are, because I triple-check everything. Full recovery timeline depends on too many variables to list, though I’ve documented them all.” She secures the final bandage. “I’ve got contingency protocols for every possible variation, and a few experimental treatments that the ethics board would never approve, but could prove revolutionary.”

Cayenne’s eyes flutter closed her head tilting to the side as her breathing deepens.

“She’s stable,” Mona announces, removing her gloves with practiced efficiency. “And adequately sedated based on her body weight, metabolic profile, and emotional stress factors. I’ve calculated the precise dosage for optimal pain control without respiratory depression.”

“Roman will come for her,” Ryker states with lethal certainty. “You as well.”

“Roman is nothing if not predictable in his obsessions.” She arranges supplies with mechanical precision. “His specimens are extensions of his ego. Though right now, he’s probably more concerned about the research I destroyed and the bees I released into his ventilation system. The bees weren’t in any protocol he approved.”

“You need protection,” I say.

“I’ve survived Roman Sterling for twenty-nine years by making myself simultaneously invaluable and unstable. I have offshore accounts, blackmail material organized by potential impact, and several identities waiting in countries with noextradition. Protection is built into every decision I’ve made since I was eleven. That isn’t what I want.”

“Whatdoyou want?” Finn asks.

“Lab space with actual equipment, not the toys you give kindergarteners. Minimal supervision—watching makes me twitchy. And access to your systems.” She taps the USB drive against her palm. “This vaccine won’t develop itself, though that would be a fascinating research avenue. Self-replicating medical formulations raise ethical questions that keep bioethicists awake at night.”

“The medical wing,” Ryker offers.

“It’ll do. Though I’ll need to restructure everything. Color-code the supplies. Improve the security protocols. And that coffee maker belongs in a museum dedicated to human suffering. Science demands caffeine that doesn’t taste like distilled despair.”

“You’re not concerned about funding?” I ask.

“Roman’s accounts develop the most interesting mathematical errors. Decimal points that migrate. Zeros that multiply.” She unwraps another lollipop. “I’ve been siphoning resources for seven years. The financial projections would make investment bankers weep with joy or horror, depending on which side they’re on.”

“You expect us to believe Roman won’t come for you?” Jinx asks. “His perfect little omega experiment?”

“Perfect? I was his greatest disappointment, carefully cultivated over decades. Property damage became my art form. The disappointment was my only consistent product.”

“He kept you close,” Ryker observes. “Protected.”

“He kept me contained, controlled, cataloged. Protection implies care rather than ownership.” She rearranges supplies with mechanical focus. “Did you know how precise the timingis when an alpha suffocates? Seventy-three seconds from airway occlusion to brain death. The data is remarkably consistent.”

“You’ve killed for him,” Finn states.

“For him? Never. Because of him? That requires a separate database with its own classification system. The methodology varies widely enough to merit subcategories based on effectiveness, elegance, and poetic justice.”

“And we should trust you?” Ryker asks.

“Trust has never been relevant in my experience. Roman ensured that lesson was thoroughly learned.” She produces another USB drive. “But perhaps you’d be interested in his other research projects? The ethical violations alone would keep investigators busy for years. The treason is just a bonus feature.”

“You’re not just his victim,” I realize, recognition hitting like a perfect chord. “You’re his Trojan Horse.”

The thought resonates with my own past—how I’d smile vacantly at family gatherings, playing the perfect docile omega while secretly planning my escape. I recognize Mona’s methodical madness because I’ve lived my own version of it.

“The Trojan Horse was a single tactical deployment. I’m more like a slow-acting poison that he mistook for medicine. Systematic corruption requires patience and precision that mythology rarely appreciates.”

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