Page 77 of Reckless: Corruption

“You chose wrong.” He moves with sudden purpose, closing the distance between us until I’m forced to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “You think taking on Sterling alone was brave? It was reckless. Foolish. You nearly died, Cayenne.”

“I knew the risks.”

“Did you?” His voice drops lower, intensity building. “Did you know what it would do to Theo? To Finn? To Jinx?” He pauses, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “To me?”

And there it is—the real breach. Not that I left, but what my leaving did to them. To him.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out small but sincere. “I thought I was protecting you.”

“We don’t need your protection,” he growls, frustration evident in every line of his body. “We need your trust.”

“Trust goes both ways.” I stand my ground despite his looming presence. “You didn’t trust me to handle the truth about Sterling’s virus. You kept me in the dark, made decisions for me.”

“To protect you.”

“Exactly!” I throw my hands up. “That’s exactly my point. We were both trying to protect each other, and we both fucked it up monumentally.” I step back, needing space to process. “Maybe that’s the real problem. Maybe we both need to stop trying to protect each other and start trusting each other instead.”

Something shifts in his expression—understanding dawning through the frustration. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between us like unresolved dependencies.

“Show me the knife defense,” he finally says, voice carefully neutral once more. “From behind.”

The abrupt subject change throws me, but I recognize what he’s doing—redirecting emotion into action, giving us both a way to process while moving forward. It’s so quintessentially Ryker that I almost smile.

“Fine.” I turn my back, waiting for the attack I know is coming.

His arm comes around my throat—not pressure, just position—the dull training knife in his other hand pressed against my ribs. Before Sterling, before Alexander’s lessons in pain, I would have frozen. Now, muscle memory and hard-earned knowledge guide my response.

I drop weight, creating space, then twist into him rather than away. The move brings me face to face with him, my hands controlling his knife arm while my body stays close to limit his reach advantage. It’s exactly what he taught me, executed with a precision that surprises even me.

“Good.” Approval colors his voice as he steps back. “Again.”

We repeat the sequence, his attacks growing faster, more complex. Each time, I respond with increasing confidence, our bodies finding a rhythm that feels almost like partnership instead of opposition.

“You’re using what he taught you,” Ryker observes after a particularly successful counter. Not accusatory, just factual.

“Alexander had... educational methods.” I rotate my shoulder, phantom pain ghosting through old wounds. “Figured I might as well benefit from the experience.”

Something dangerous flashes in Ryker’s eyes. “I’m going to kill him.”

“You’ll have to get in line.” I settle back into a defensive stance. “Mona’s got first dibs, and I think she’s planning something involving bees and quantum physics.”

That almost-smile touches his lips again. “Your sister is something else.”

“You have no idea.”

We resume training, but something has shifted. The tension between us hasn’t disappeared, but it’s transformed—less sharp-edged, more productive. Our movements synchronize with increasing precision, his attacks and my responses forming a dance of controlled violence.

After a particularly complex sequence where I manage to turn his momentum against him, nearly taking him to the mat, Ryker calls another break.

“You’re good at this,” he admits, studying me with new appreciation. “Better than you should be after so little training.”

“Maybe I have natural talent.” I take a long drink of water, muscles pleasantly burning from exertion.

“Maybe.” His eyes track over me, assessing. “Or maybe you’re finally letting yourself trust the process instead of fighting it every step.”

The observation hits my system like an unexpected output. “Is that what we’re doing here? Building trust?”

“Among other things.” He moves closer, deliberate steps eating the distance between us. “Training is about more than physical techniques. It’s about learning patterns, developinginstincts. Understanding your partner well enough to anticipate their next move.”

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