Page 49 of Run Wild Omega

His eyes are burning with an intensity that scares me and comforts me all at once, a promise forged in the fire of the avalanche.

“I don’t care if you hate me, Tess. I don’t care if you never want to see my face again. I will always come for you.”

I stare at him, at the blood on his face and the love in his eyes, and for the first time since I woke up in that white void, I feel something other than pain.

The walls I built, the anger I held onto like a shield, they all feel insignificant in the face of his devotion. I feel safe, safer than I have felt in years, wrapped in the scent of him and the knowledge that I’m not alone.

“Okay,” I whisper, and I let my eyes drift shut again, exhausted down to my bones.

The pain is still there, but it seems distant now, muffled by the warmth of his hand.

I don’t fight the pull of sleep dragging me down, because I know he’ll be there when I wake up.

Wyatt

The main room of the station smells of wet wool and burnt coffee. The wind outside hammers the siding, a relentless barrage of snow and ice effectively burying the town.

I stand by the map table, gripping the edge until my knuckles ache. Miles sits on the couch, head in hands, blood drying on his temple. Dylan paces the length of the room, boots leaving damp prints on the concrete. Kyle hovers in the corner, clutching Pip against his chest. The cat is wide-eyed, tail puffed up.

“We tried the truck,” I say, staring at the red lines marking the closed roads. “Drifts are already past the roof of the cab on the access road. The highway patrol shut down I-70 an hour ago.”

Dylan stops pacing. “We can’t just keep her here. She needs a surgeon. That leg… if it isn’t set properly, if there’s nerve damage…”

“I know.” I grab the satellite phone. “We’re going to have to wait it out. But first, we need advice.”

I dial Grayson. He’s the only one I trust with this, the only one who understands both human medicine and the biological complications of an Omega in distress.

He picks up on the first ring, and I brief him on the situation.

Grayson’s breath crackles over the line. “Okay. Listen to me. You need to monitor her Glasgow Coma Scale. Wake her every hour. If she vomits, or if her pupils are uneven, you need to find a way to get her out, storm or no storm. Keep the leg elevated. Give her the painkillers, but keep her hydrated.”

“I’m on it.”

“And Wyatt?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s strong. But don’t let her sleep too deep.”

“Understood.”

I hang up. The room feels smaller. The responsibility sits heavy on my shoulders.

“We need to call her parents,” Miles says, looking up. His glasses are cracked, one lens shattered.

“And Mara,” Dylan adds. “She’ll kill us if we don’t tell her.”

I nod, dialing the Hartwell house.

Margaret answers before the first ring finishes. “Wyatt? Is it true? Sarah said there was an accident…”

“Yes. It’s Tess. She had a fall on the North Ridge. We got her out, but she’s hurt.”

The gasp on the other end of the line tears through me. I explain the situation—the broken leg, the storm, the fact that she’s alive but stuck at the station. I promise to call the second the road opens.

Then I dial Mara. She’s in Denver with the rest of her pack, but she needs to know.

She doesn’t ask how Tess is. She asks, “Where are you?”