Page 12 of Run Wild Omega

Two years ago, right after the wedding, Leo took a risk. He sold his big outdoor company in Denver and started Sweet Creek Adventures. He bought the permits, hired the guides, and partnered with the Lodge. He asked me to be his first hire.

“You know the mountain better than anyone,” he’d told me. “And you don’t take shit from anyone. You’re the only one I trust to lead the groups that actually want to climb, not just take photos.”

I’d accepted before he even finished the sentence.

It’s hard work. My muscles are always sore, my skin is always wind-burned, and I spend half my life smelling like sweat and DEET. But I wake up every morning knowing exactly who I am.

I’m the one who gets people safely up the mountain and back down again.

I’m free.

“Hey, Tess?”

I look up from the manifest.

Mara is watching me, her head tilted, a soft smile on her face. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” I mean it. “I’m going to go grab breakfast at the café before the guests get here. I’ll be back in twenty.”

“Say hi to your mom for me.”

“I will.”

I step back out into the cold. Instead of getting back in the Jeep, I take the flagged path that winds down the hill behind the Lodge. It connects the staff housing to the main building, and from there, it’s a short walk—less than five minutes—to the back door of Hartwell Café.

I push open the wooden door of the café. The morning rush hasn’t hit yet, but the air is thick with the rich scents of espresso and cinnamon. Mom is behind the counter, her hair pulled back in a bandana, arranging a display of fresh pastries in the glass case.

“Tess!” She looks up, her face lighting up. “I thought you were guiding today?”

“I am. But I needed a real breakfast.” I hop onto a stool. “Dad around?”

“In the office. Doing the books.” She comes around the counter and pours me a coffee without asking. “You look tired, honey.”

“Bad dream.” I wave it off. “Just the usual.”

She reaches out and smooths a stray hair behind my ear. “Well, you’re here now. You want your usual omelet?”

“Yes, please. Spinach and feta.”

Dad walks out of the office just then, a stack of receipts in his hand. He smiles when he sees me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks tired.

“There she is. The mountain goat.”

“Hey, Dad.”

He sits on the stool next to mine. “I saw Daniel leaving earlier. Headed to the city?”

“Yeah. Deposition.” I take a sip of coffee. “Is Jonathan still pushing the appeal?”

Dad sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “He is. The man acts like he’s been personally wronged by the universe. He’s claiming breach of contract, emotional distress… everything under the sun.”

“Can he actually win?” I ask, keeping my voice low even though the dining room is mostly empty.

“No. Daniel has the case locked down tighter than a drum. Jonathan has no legal standing, not after what he did to Mara.” Dad shakes his head. “Some men just don’t know when to stop. They think if they scream loud enough, the world has to listen. He thinks Mara is property he misplaced, not a human being who left him.”

My stomach tightens. I think of Marcus, of how he treated me like a secret, a dirty little hobby to be kept in the closet while he looked for a “proper” match. They’re the same, Jonathan and Marcus. Different faces, same entitled rot.

“He’ll lose,” I say firmly. “Daniel won’t let him touch her.”