Reckless: Chaos (Sugar & Spice #2)

1. Cayenne

Chapter 1

Cayenne

I. Missed. This.

The electric buzz under my skin makes my fingers dance, still feeling phantom keystrokes. Power courses through my veins like liquid lightning, every successful hack, every bypassed security measure adding to the high. This is what I was born for—the dance between systems, the pure artistry of digital warfare.

This freedom. This control.

It’s not just intoxicating—it’s a full-body rush that makes every nerve ending sing. Makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Makes me want to touch and be touched, to channel this energy into something physical, something real.

Makes me want to fuck.

The thought hits with the same intensity as a successful system breach, and I find myself studying Theo’s profile as he navigates the winding roads back to the mansion. The omega moves with fluid grace even behind the wheel, all artistic control and hidden power. The mission high makes everything sharper, more intense—the subtle flex of his fingers on the steering wheel, the way his throat moves when he swallows.

“I can smell you.” Theo’s sideways glance carries heat beneath the amusement, his usual artistic flow taking on a predatory edge.

“I should be offended,” I shift in my seat, letting the post-mission adrenaline wash through me, “but lucky for you, I’m riding too high to care. You try maintaining composure after dancing circles around corporate security.”

He snorts, but there’s understanding in it. After all, he knows about performance highs. About the rush of playing your audience just right. “I’m so glad Finn wants to take you out.”

The laughter bubbles up, genuine and loose. “Oh, I’ve heard about Finn’s idea of a good time. All that calculated precision?” A shiver runs through me that’s only partly theatrical. “He terrifies me a little.”

“He should.” Theo’s wink sets my blood on fire, mission high amplifying every subtle interaction. The car rolls to a stop, and something in his expression shifts, becomes softer. More omega. “Ryker wants to debrief, and then if you want...”

The blush that creeps across his cheeks shouldn’t be as adorable as it is, especially not on someone who can command attention like he does on stage. But it sparks something warm in my chest, something that has nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with connection.

“If I want...?” I prompt, those warm butterflies in my stomach having nothing to do with the mission high and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me—part predator, part artist, all invitation.

“Would you stay with me tonight?” The words rush out like he’s afraid they’ll get stuck if he says them slower. “Listen, we don’t have to do anything. I was thinking cuddling and a movie, maybe some pillow talk.”

“You are such an omega, and I love it.” The confession slips out before I can catch it, raw and honest in a way the adrenaline makes possible. I lean over, pressing my lips to his cheek, catching the scent of night-blooming jasmine and ancient sheet music that is uniquely him. “I’d love to.”

His relieved sigh carries layers—pleasure at my acceptance, anxiety about what’s to come. “Let’s debrief with Ryker first, and then you tell me if you still want to come.”

He starts to climb out of the car, letting that statement hang ominous in the air between us.

“Um, excuse me?” I scramble after him, mission high giving way to a tendril of dread. “That sounds ominous as fuck.”

The look he throws over his shoulder shouldn’t be legal—all dark promise and omega allure wrapped in something that screams danger. It’s a reminder that for all his artistic soul, he’s still pack. Still predator.

The others are already here, having taken the direct route while we had to double back through PCA headquarters. The mansion looms ahead, and for the first time since the mission started, I feel the weight of what I’ve done. What I tried to do.

What I failed to get.

But the rush is still there, making me skip into the mansion like I don’t have secrets burning holes in my conscience. Like I didn’t just try to hack deeper than our mission parameters allowed. Like I don’t have a USB drive hidden somewhere in this house that could change everything.

I kick the door closed behind us, the familiar action striking a discordant note. When did this place start feeling like home? When did these predators start feeling like family?

The thought sobers me as I head toward the back office where I know they’re waiting. As I enter, it’s like walking into a wall of tension. The mission high crashes, reality rushing in to fill the void.

Theo moves to a chair, concern etched in features that were playful moments ago.

Finn looks up from his iPad, those soulful eyes carrying too much knowledge behind his glasses.

Jinx radiates barely contained violence, already changed into dark sweats and a hoodie, his baseball cap pulled low over eyes that see too much.

And Ryker...

He leans against the bookshelf behind his desk, arms crossed over a chest still damp from a shower, his long-sleeved green shirt clinging in ways that would be distracting if not for the steel in his gaze. The grey sweats he wears should look soft, comfortable. Instead, they add to the predatory air that fills the room.

This isn’t a debriefing.

This is a reckoning.

Fuck me, I’m busted.

My shoulders sag as the last traces of mission high evaporate. I drop into a chair, staring at the ceiling because I can’t bear to meet their eyes. Can’t bear to see disappointment replace the trust they’ve started showing me. “Alright. Lay into me.”

“Look at me.” Ryker’s voice carries the weight of command, of alpha power that should slide right off my beta nature but somehow finds purchase anyway.

I keep my eyes fixed upward, gathering courage. Because they deserve the truth—about the beta virus, about what Sterling Labs is really doing. But truth is a weapon that cuts both ways, and I’m not sure I’m ready to bleed.

“Cayenne.” The rumble in his voice reaches into my chest and tugs. “Look. At. Me.”

“Rude,” I mutter, but I straighten, finally meeting his gaze. The intensity there makes me wish I hadn’t.

“During our mission, you went off course.” Each word falls like a stone in still water, ripples of accusation spreading outward. “You were supposed to keep your concentration on us at all times. The mission was to get in and get out, and you left a trail of chaos in your wake.”

He leans over the desk, nostrils flaring as he scents my guilt, my fear, my need to protect them from what I know. “I have to debrief Quinn in thirty minutes, and you are going to do so with me. But first, you are going to talk.”

I let my eyes drift around the room, hoping for... what? Support? Understanding? They’re all watching with varying degrees of concern and disappointment. Even Theo, who minutes ago was inviting me to his nest, looks troubled.

The silence stretches, heavy with expectations. With secrets. With truth I’m not sure how to voice.

“Ok.” The word comes out hollow, defeated. I stand, moving to the drink cart like it’s a lifeline. The amber liquid splashes into the tumbler, and I watch it swirl, catching light like binary code through fiber optic cables. Like truth through firewalls.

I throw back the first drink, letting it burn away my hesitation. The crystal makes a soft sound as I trace its rim, gathering courage.

“Sterling Labs isn’t targeting omegas.” The words fall into the silence like the first drops of rain before a storm.

“Explain.” Ryker’s command carries less alpha now, more dread.

I pour another drink, because some truths require armor, even if that armor comes in liquid form. “I found a file, buried.” My finger traces patterns in the condensation on the glass, drawing connections only I can see. “I’m sure you’ve seen on the news that there’s a rise in a virus.”

“Beta.” Finn sits up straighter, fingers flying across his keyboard with renewed purpose. The word hangs between us—both designation and death sentence.

“When the sniper took out my screen, I caught one thing.” My laugh comes out bitter, scraping against my throat like broken glass. “Beta virus. It’s manufactured. Created by Sterling Labs.”

The silence that follows feels like a living thing, pressing against my skin, making it hard to breathe.

“Why?” Finn’s question carries the weight of our shared designation, of a threat that targets us specifically.

“I can only guess it’s to reduce our population.” I shrug, but the movement feels mechanical, disconnected. My fingers tighten around the glass until my knuckles go white. “I haven’t been able to dive into the drive to have a look.”

“And tonight?” Ryker pushes, always pushing, like he can force the truth out through sheer alpha will.

“I needed proof.” The words start spilling out, whiskey and guilt loosening my tongue. “I can’t look at the USB drive here because you guys have me in the dark. I needed to fucking know if it’s just a conspiracy. If I made it all up. If I really saw what I saw, or if it’s real.” The last word breaks, betraying everything I’ve tried to hide. “You gave me an opportunity. Hacking through their own systems, no one to catch but themselves.”

“And?” Theo’s voice carries concern that cuts deeper than Ryker’s accusations.

“I found the backdoor and was trying to get through when they caught me.” The admission comes out small, defeated. “Looks like they learned from last time.”

“They caught you!” Ryker’s explosion makes me flinch. “You put my pack in danger?”

There it is. That line in the sand.

My. Pack.

Two words that define everything I am to them—and everything I’m not.

I swallow down the pain, forcing it deep where it can’t show on my face. My mother’s lessons echo in my head: never let them see how deep they cut.

“Sterling Labs is manufacturing a beta virus, killing betas around the globe.” My voice comes out steady, each word precise despite the alcohol warming my blood. “I did what I had to do to find proof.”

I toss back the rest of my drink, letting the burn match the one behind my eyes. Let them judge me. Let them draw their lines. Some truths are worth the cost of belonging.

“She’s right.” Finn’s whisper cuts through the tension like a blade.

“What?” Ryker’s shock mirrors the disbelief on his face as he turns to our resident beta.

“The virus, it’s spreading.” Finn removes his glasses, cleaning them with shaking hands. A nervous tell I’ve never seen from him before. “Death rate is fifty percent.”

“What?” The alpha mask slips as Ryker moves to Finn, snatching the tablet from his hands. “No, this can’t be.”

“Believe it.” Finn’s voice carries a tremor that makes my chest ache. Because this is real. This is happening. Our people are dying.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” The hurt in Theo’s voice slices deeper than Ryker’s anger ever could.

“I was told to leave it to Quinn to figure out. Not to worry about it.” The words taste like ash and whiskey. My hands shake as I turn back to the drink cart, needing something to dull the edges of this moment. “To trust.”

A tear escapes, falling into my glass with a silent splash that somehow echoes louder than any accusation. The room goes still, as if that single display of weakness has frozen time.

“You are both on lockdown.” Ryker’s voice cuts through the silence, all alpha power again. “Cayenne, you and Finn will remain in the mansion at all times. Anyone who leaves will be in quarantine for a week.”

I sip my drink slower this time, turning to face whatever judgment comes next. Finn doesn’t protest, too absorbed in his tablet, in the reality of what’s happening to our designation.

“You didn’t trust us.” Ryker’s accusation carries layers of hurt beneath the anger.

“I didn’t know you.” The truth burns worse than the whiskey. “I saved your ass tonight.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “You hid a vital secret.”

“I was told to trust the process.” Alcohol makes my tongue sharp, reckless. My body feels warm, disconnected from the weight of what’s happening. “Look where that landed us. It’s been weeks, and Quinn had a chance to tell you, didn’t he?”

The silence answers louder than words.

Until the phone rings.

The red corded phone on his desk looks like something out of a war room, like we’re playing at soldiers while our people die.

“Don’t you run.” He points at me before answering, the gesture both threat and plea. “Locke.”

Quinn’s voice comes through faintly. Ryker’s face transforms with each word from the phone—jaw tightening until a muscle jumps beneath his skin, eyes narrowing to steel slits, nostrils flaring with each sharp intake of breath. I search for the softening around his mouth that might signal good news, for the slight relaxation of his shoulders that could offer hope, but find only deeper lines etching between his brows.

He hangs up, pressing a button that makes the bookshelf part like something out of a spy movie. Quinn’s face appears on a monitor, grim and tired.

“Sterling Labs is blaming the attack on a rogue hacktivist.” Quinn’s eyes fix on me, and I don’t bother denying it. Some labels fit too well to argue.

“The canister, is it a match?” Ryker changes topics, trying to salvage some control over this spiraling situation.

I sink deeper into my chair, studying my glass. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. The goal isn’t drunk—it’s numb. Just numb enough to get through this without completely shattering.

“It’s a match.” Quinn’s sigh carries the weight of failure. “They did attack us. The whole building is getting a security upgrade. We’ve lost five omegas who don’t think it’s safe. And one beta guard who felt unsafe as well.”

Ryker nods, each individual leaving the safety of Omega Guardians hitting him like a physical blow. “The beta virus. How far did you get at uncovering it?”

Quinn shakes his head, defeat aging him years in moments. “I’m good, but I’m not Cayenne good.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The words slip out before I can catch them, my glass sloshing slightly as I raise it in mock salute.

Keep it light. Keep it distant. Don’t let them see how much this is killing you.

“The truth is we need her on this.” Quinn massages his temples, and I recognize the gesture—the same one I make when I’ve been staring at code too long, searching for answers that don’t want to be found.

“Told you that.” The sass in my voice doesn’t quite hide the tremor.

“Do you still have the USB?” Quinn’s question carries too much weight, too much hope.

“Yep.” I pop the p , artificial cheerfulness a poor mask for growing dread. “Hid it in this house.” The fridge to be exact.

“Don’t open it. I need to find a secure location for you to look into it. We need to uncover exactly what they’re doing so we can reverse engineer it.” Another tired sigh. “I’m not mad that you created chaos. Again .” His words catch my attention, pull me from the whiskey-warm haze. “Betas are dying. Now isn’t the time for debates. We need to figure this out.”

The pleasant buzz of alcohol evaporates in an instant, replaced by a chill that starts at my fingertips and races toward my core. My mouth goes desert-dry, the taste of whiskey replaced by metal. Because this is real. This is happening. And somewhere in this mansion, hidden in its shadows, I might have the key to saving our people. Or condemning them.

I nod, swiping at another treacherous tear.

Why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for betas? Like I’m screaming into a void while my designation slowly disappears?

“Alright, stay low until we can get you a secure location to do what it is you do.” Quinn pauses, words heavy with meaning before the screen goes dark.

The silence that follows presses against my skin like a physical thing. No one speaks. No one moves. We’re all trapped in this moment, in this truth that’s too big to process.

“Am I dismissed?” Too much sass, too much defense, too much everything.

“No.” Ryker’s eyes bore into me, stripping away my defenses. “Sterling. The name can’t be a coincidence.”

I scoff, but the sound catches in my throat. “Don’t you think I don’t know that?” The glass hits the table harder than intended, whiskey sloshing. That’s enough of that.

“Who is Sterling to you?”

“The company?” Playing dumb feels safer than the truth burning in my chest.

“The CEO.”

“Listen.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting the fog of alcohol and exhaustion and fear. “I don’t know. And even if I was related to the founder that named it Sterling, I don’t know who it is. I was raised by my dead mother.” Each word comes out sharp, precise, cutting. “She gave me my father’s last name only to give me the opportunity to find him one day. I never wanted to and I never needed to. We share only a name.”

“You better be telling me the truth.” The alpha command in his voice makes my teeth ache.

“Enough.” Jinx’s voice cuts through the tension, surprising us all. “Enough.”

“I think we should all head to bed.” Theo stands, and something in his movement draws my attention. Hope flickers across his face as he looks at me, and god help me, but I need that hope right now. Need something pure to hold onto in this mess of secrets and lies and dying betas.

Fuck it. I reach for him, and the way his face lights up makes everything—the mission, the confrontation, the weight of what’s coming—feel a little more bearable.

His fingers thread through mine, warm and sure, and suddenly he’s all I can focus on as he leads me from the office. The stairs prove a minor challenge, my feet less certain than they should be.

“It’s going to be okay, you know.” His lips brush my temple, sending shivers down my spine.

“It doesn’t feel okay right now.” I lean into him, into his strength, into the promise of sanctuary he offers.

His hand pauses on the doorknob, and when he looks down at me, I see understanding in his dark eyes. “Not every moment in life will be okay. Some moments will be hard and full of pain, and others joy.” He pulls me closer, and his scent—sheet music and night flowers and something uniquely him—wraps around me like a shield. “Come snuggle with me and find peace for right now.”

I sniffle, burrowing deeper into his embrace as he opens the door. Nothing could have prepared me for his nest.

The room steals my breath. It’s not just a bedroom—it’s art. It’s sanctuary. It’s everything Theo is, translated into physical space.

A Roman-style room stretches before us, ceiling soaring overhead where a circular engraving draws the eye to the center. Below it, sunken into the floor like some decadent secret, lies a circular bed draped in gauzy fabric that falls from the molding above. The sheets and blankets form a perfect nest, and among them—my heart catches—I see my clothes. My hoodie. My shirts. Not just tossed there, but carefully arranged, woven into his space like he’s weaving me into his life.

Windows line one wall, probably gorgeous in daylight but now reflecting our silence back at us. The other walls hold normal bedroom furniture—a dresser, a desk, a reading chair—but somehow even these mundane items feel artistic. Intentional. Like everything in this space serves both function and beauty.

“I’m never leaving.” The words slip out, half-joking, half-desperate truth.

Theo’s laugh carries equal parts amusement and relief, like he’s been holding his breath waiting for my reaction.

I stumble toward the bed, fighting with my pants in a way that’s decidedly less graceful than this room deserves. Finally down to my bra and panties, I burrow into his nest, letting the weight of the night—the mission, the confrontation, the truth about the virus—settle into my bones.

The alcohol makes everything soft around the edges, but it can’t quite dull the reality of what we’re facing. What I’m hiding. What’s coming.

Theo joins me with quiet grace, curling around me like he was made to be my shelter. Like this spot in his nest was crafted exactly for this moment, this need.

Sleep pulls at me, but I feel his lips brush my forehead, feel the words that follow sink into my soul.

“Let me chase away the demons tonight.”

And he does. Not by fixing anything—the virus still exists, betas are still dying, Sterling Labs still looms over everything—but by offering something just as vital as solutions.

A moment of peace.

A safe harbor.

A place to belong.

Even if it’s just for tonight.