Page 117 of Run Wild Omega

“Absolutely,” I say.

Tess looks at me. There’s something in her expression, something tight and apprehensive, like she’s bracing for impact.

We’re in the truck before she speaks again.

“Can we stop somewhere?” she asks. “I just… I need air.”

“There’s a pullout about a mile up. Overlooks the valley.”

She nods.

I pull into the gravel turnout a few minutes later. The valley stretches out below us, white and vast, the distant peaks catching the late morning sun. I kill the engine. The cab goes quiet except for the heater fan clicking off.

Tess stares straight ahead. Her fingers are knotted in her lap.

“Dylan, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.” I shift in my seat, turning toward her. My stomach is doing something unpleasant. “What’s going on?”

“Last night, I went out with Mara.”

Okay… so something did happen.

“Uh-huh,” I say, encouraging her to continue.

“After the Bluejay, Miles brought me to the pack house.” She pauses. Swallows. “Something happened between us.”

The words land like a punch to the sternum. I blink, processing.

“Something,” I repeat.

“We hooked up.”

Silence.

I stare at the windshield. A hawk circles over the valley below, riding the thermal currents. My brain is doing that thing where it tries to process information in logical steps, the way Miles taught me during search operations, but the steps keep collapsing.

“You and Miles,” I say.

“Yes.”

“Last night.”

“Yes.”

“And then this morning, Wyatt came to the pack house.”

Her eyes widen. “How do you…”

“I can smell him on you, Tess. Both of them. I’ve been able to smell them since you got in my truck.”

Her face flushes crimson. She looks away, her grip tightening on the door handle.

“Nothing happened with Wyatt,” she says quickly. “Not like that. We talked. He came in and found us, and he was angry, and then we talked, and he told me about… about why he pushed me away when we were kids. And I told him…”

She stops. Her chin is trembling.

“What did you tell him?”