Page 61 of Run Wild Omega

She almost died because she wanted to feel alive. Typical Omega behavior.

Do us all a favor and stay in the kitchen next time.

I stop reading. My hand is shaking.

Dylan takes the phone from me. He scrolls for a minute, and then he growls, the sound vibrating through the floor.

“Give me that,” Miles says, plucking the phone from Dylan’s hand. He reads in silence, his jaw getting tighter and tighter.

“They’re comparing her to a dead base jumper,” Miles says. His voice is eerily calm. “A man who jumped off a cliff with a parachute. And they’re acting like she did the same thing.”

“It’s clickbait,” I say, but the words feel hollow. “It’s cable news. They do this to everyone.”

“They’re not doing this to everyone. They’re doing this to her. Because she’s an Omega. Because she’s unbonded.” Dylan’s voice is a low, simmering thing. “They’re using her accident to push their bullshit agenda about controlling Omegas.”

“The drone footage,” Miles says. “Some tourist filmed the whole thing and posted it online. Her unconscious body is in that video. Her broken leg. They’re broadcasting her worst moment to four million people.”

I stand up so fast the chair scrapes against the floor. I need to move. I need to hit something. I need to find whoever posted that footage and⁠—

“Wyatt.” Dylan’s hand is on my arm. “Sit down.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” I say through my teeth. “She followed protocol. She checked the conditions. The slide was a freak event—a wind-loaded cornice that no one could have predicted. Miles confirmed it.”

“I know.”

“She was doing her job. The same job she’s done a hundred times. The same job she’s better at than anyone else in this valley.”

“I know, Wyatt.”

“And now she’s lying in here with a tube in her arm and a monitor telling us her leg might be dying, and four million strangers are calling her reckless and stupid and saying she belongs on a leash.”

The last word comes out as a snarl.

Maggie doesn’t look up from the monitor she’s adjusting, but I see her shoulders stiffen.

Dr. Evans steps back into the room, his gaze flicking between the three of us. “What’s going on?”

“The news found the story,” Miles says flatly. “Drone footage of the rescue went viral. They’re… spinning it.”

Dr. Evans’s expression sours. “I was wondering when the press would catch wind of this. They’ve been circling the hospital all night. Security’s been doing their best, but⁠—”

“They need to be kept out of here,” I say. “No one comes into this room. No cameras. No reporters. If one of them gets a shot of her in this bed⁠—”

“Already handled,” Maggie says, not looking up. “I’ve got security posted at both ends of the hallway. No one gets past without my say-so.”

“Good.”

I sit back down. My hands are still trembling. I press them flat against my thighs, willing the rage to settle.

Dylan slides my phone back across the blanket toward me. The screen is dark now, but I can still see the headlines behind my eyelids, the comments, the smug face of that man in the blazer saying her hormones made her do it.

“She’s going to be furious when she sees this,” Dylan says quietly.

“She’s going to be devastated,” I correct. “She spent two years building a life where she’s not defined by her designation. She does the work. She leads groups up that mountain better than any Alpha I’ve ever worked with. And in one evening, some tourist with a drone and a bunch of cable news vultures strip all of that away.”

Miles is quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “We can’t control the narrative. Not from here. But we can make sure she wakes up to people who know the truth.”

I look at him. “What do you mean?”