Page 95 of Reckless: Corruption

“You’ve completed it?” Ryker’s voice carries cautious hope.

“Completed is a strong word,” Mona hedges, twirling her lollipop. “Theoretical formulation finalized. Practical synthesis achieved. Preliminary testing indicates seventy-three percent efficacy in laboratory conditions.”

“English, please,” Jinx requests, rocking on his heels with barely contained excitement.

“She’s got a prototype that works in test tubes,” I translate, heart racing with equal parts hope and dread. “But it needs human trials to confirm.”

“Exactly!” Mona beams at me like a proud teacher. “Very accurate translation. Much communicative efficiency.”

“Who’s the test subject?” Theo asks, though I suspect we all know the answer already.

Mona’s eyes find mine, serious despite her manic presentation. “Volunteer needed. Recently exposed beta preferred. Female genetic profile ideal due to hormonal variances in virus response.”

In other words, me. Of fucking course.

“No,” Ryker states immediately, alpha authority filling the simple syllable. “Too risky.”

“Actually,” Finn counters, analytical mind already assessing probabilities despite the virus ravaging his system, “it makes scientific sense. Cayenne’s already survived the virus once. Her system has developed partial immunity.”

“That doesn’t mean we experiment on her,” Theo protests, protective omega instincts flaring. “We’re not Sterling.”

The comparison hangs heavy in the air, sharp-edged and uncomfortable.

Theo’s omega scent intensifies with distress, his normally fluid movements turning jagged with protective anger. “Therehas to be another way. What about synthesized antibodies? Animal testing?”

“Insufficient time for traditional protocols,” Mona responds, all pretense of chaos dissolving in the face of medical urgency. “Beta mortality rates increasing exponentially. Seventy-two new deaths yesterday. Implementation acceleration detected at Aurora Facility.”

Ryker stands unnaturally still, the tension in his jaw betraying the war between tactical necessity and alpha protection instincts. His scent carries notes of cedar and fury, his voice carefully controlled when he speaks. “If we had more time?—”

“We don’t,” Finn interrupts, the tremor in his hands more pronounced despite his steady gaze. “Every day we wait costs lives. Maybe mine included.”

The unspoken truth we’ve all been avoiding crashes through the room. Finn is dying. Slowly but certainly, the virus is winning despite Mona’s treatments. The knowledge twists something visceral in my chest—not just fear, but a sense of potential loss I wasn’t prepared to feel.

I study each face surrounding me – Ryker’s controlled concern, Jinx’s barely leashed protective rage, Theo’s omega distress, Finn’s analytical acceptance, Mona’s clinical focus. This strange, broken family that somehow became mine when I wasn’t looking.

My stomach knots with fear even as my mind reaches a decision. The thought of enduring that fever-hell again makes my skin crawl, but some risks matter more than comfort. More than safety. More than fear.

“I’ll do it,” I say, cutting through their debate with quiet certainty. All eyes turn to me, reactions ranging from Ryker’s thunderous disapproval to Mona’s clinical interest. “I’m the logical choice. I’ve already beaten the virus once, I share geneticswith its creator, and frankly, we don’t have time for ethical debates while betas are dying worldwide.”

The words come easily, without the internal calculation that once would have preceded any self-sacrifice. A few months ago, I would have made this decision as part of a lone-wolf strategy, a way to prove I needed no one. Now it feels different—not just my burden to bear, but a contribution to something larger than myself. A choice made not in isolation but as part of a system I’ve reluctantly come to value.

And Finn is dying right in front of us, though no one wants to say it out loud. The thought of watching him fade day by day, knowing there might have been something I could have done, sits like acid in my stomach.

“There are risks,” Mona acknowledges, suddenly serious again. “Vaccine derived from attenuated virus. Potential for adverse reactions. Much uncertainty despite theoretical modeling.”

“In other words, it could make me sick again,” I clarify, meeting each pack member’s gaze in turn. The thought of going through that fever-hell again makes my skin crawl, but I shove the fear down where it belongs. “But it won’t kill me, not with my existing antibodies. And if it works...”

“If it works, we can mass-produce it,” Finn finishes, strategic mind already calculating distribution logistics despite the tremor in his hands. “Save thousands. Maybe millions.”

The room falls silent as the implications settle. This isn’t just about me, or even our pack. It’s about every beta facing Sterling’s correction program, every family that could be devastated by his vision of designation purity.

Ryker crosses to me, his movement deliberate, contained power vibrating beneath his controlled exterior. When his hands frame my face, his touch is gentler than his expression would suggest. “You understand what you’re risking?”

“I do.” I meet his gaze without flinching.

The conflict in his eyes is something I’ve never seen before – the tactical alpha at war with something far more personal. “I can’t stop you,” he finally says, voice rough with emotion he rarely displays. “But we’ll be with you. Every step.”

Theo moves next. “We’ll monitor everything—temperature, heart rate, brain activity. Any sign of severe reaction, we intervene immediately.” His hands find mine, unexpectedly steady. “You won’t face this alone.”

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