Page 55 of Reckless: Corruption

“Too easy,” Jinx murmurs, that predatory smile stretching his lips. “Almost disappointing.”

I’m inclined to agree. Years of system infiltration have taught me that when security seems absent, it’s usually because it’s concentrated somewhere unexpected.

“Target location approaching,” Mona informs us. “Laboratory Seven requires secondary authentication. Genetic confirmation insufficient. Requires direct neural interface or approved access codes.”

“Neural interface?” I repeat. “What the hell is that?”

“Experimental technology. Connects directly to cerebral cortex through specialized implant.” Her voice carries genuine interest now, the scientist overtaking the chaos agent. “Daddy’s latest obsession. Very invasive. Much potential for abuse.”

“Great.” I study the door before us, noting the secondary scanner beside the standard access panel. “So we need a passcode.”

“Or a Sterling with the right implant.” Jinx’s gaze darkens. “Which we don’t have.”

I approach the panel, muscle memory taking over as I pull out Mona’s bypass device. “Let’s see if Sterling programming is as predictable as Sterling himself.”

The device connects seamlessly, its small screen displaying scrolling code as it attempts to breach the system. I watch patterns form and dissolve, my mind breaking them down into attack vectors and vulnerability explorations.

“Security patrol approaching eastern corridor,” Mona warns. “Estimated arrival at your position in forty-seven seconds.”

Jinx moves instantly, positioning himself between me and the approaching threat. His body coils with predatory anticipation, that dangerous smile spreading across his face.

“Keep working,” he instructs. “I’ll handle them.”

“Jinx—”

“Trust me.” Those two words—so simple, so loaded—hang between us.

Trust. Such a fragile thing when you’ve spent your life hacking systems and disappearing. When your default is always run, never stay. When every instinct screams that relying on someone else means inevitable betrayal. And yet...

I do trust him. Not just with my life, but with something more precious—with my vulnerability. With the knowledge that the virus has left me operating at half capacity. With my fear for Finn and for the pack. With every broken edge I’ve spent years hiding behind firewalls and sarcasm.

And the strange thing? It doesn’t feel like weakness. It feels like strength, like connection, like finding a missing line of code that suddenly makes everything function properly.

I give him a sharp nod.

The bypass device beeps, drawing my attention back to our primary mission. The scrolling code has stabilized, revealing a predictable pattern in Sterling’s security algorithm. Of course—Roman’s brilliant but arrogant mind wouldn’t conceive of anyone understanding his systems well enough to break them. Especially not his illegitimate beta daughter.

“I’ve got it,” I murmur, fingers flying over the interface. “Just need to modify the authentication protocol to accept external validation without?—”

Footsteps echo down the corridor. Two sets, maybe three.

“Time’s up,” Jinx whispers, his body already shifting into combat stance. “How much longer?”

“Thirty seconds. Maybe less.” My hands remain steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system. “Just keep them off me.”

“With pleasure.” The predatory anticipation in his voice would be disturbing if it weren’t so perfectly matched to the moment.

The first guard rounds the corner, weapon already drawn. Jinx moves like liquid shadow, all that barely contained violence finally finding purpose. I keep my focus on the bypass, trusting him completely as sounds of combat erupt behind me.

The device beeps again—success. The door slides open just as Jinx dispatches the second guard with brutal efficiency.

“Come on!” I call, already moving into the lab.

Inside, the space is an unsettling blend of cutting-edge technology and old-school medical horrors. Glass containment units line one wall, each holding samples labeled with precise Sterling methodology. Workstations display molecular structures in rotating 3D, while medical equipment of uncertain purpose fills the remaining space.

“Target location identified,” Mona confirms in my ear. “Proceed to containment unit seven. Viral inhibitor compounds stored in cryogenic suspension.”

I follow her directions, locating the specified unit while Jinx secures the door. The samples inside glow with faint bioluminescence, their labels featuring that distinctive Sterling Labs marking.

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