Page 70 of Run Wild Omega

“You’re in a hospital bed with a surgically repaired tibia and a hemoglobin level that’s still three points below normal. You’re not walking out of here. You’re barely sitting up.”

“I don’t care. I’m not staying here so the whole world can gawk at me⁠—”

“The whole world isn’t here. The only people here are the ones who love you.”

“Love me?” I laugh, and it’s an ugly, broken sound. “You don’t get to stand in that doorway and talk about love. You don’t get to⁠—”

“Then let me talk about facts.” His voice drops, controlled and precise, the voice he uses on a rescue when emotions are running high and someone needs to be the anchor. “Because there are things you don’t know yet, and you need to hear them before you make any decisions.”

The room goes quiet. Even the monitors seem to hold their breath.

“What things?” I ask, my voice small despite my best efforts.

Wyatt looks at Miles. Miles nods, stepping forward, and for the first time I notice the tablet in his hand—he’s been carrying it this whole time, clutched against his chest like a shield.

“Over the last forty-eight hours,” Miles says, his voice calm and measured in that way that makes him sound like he’s delivering a briefing rather than discussing my life, “a number of things have happened outside this hospital that directly affect you.”

He sets the tablet on the bed, angling the screen toward me. On it is a document—an email, from what I can see, with a formal letterhead.

“Three separate packs have contacted Sheriff Reddick’s office,” Miles continues. “All of them are wealthy, out-of-state packs with significant political and media influence. The Ashford Pack out of Connecticut. The Voss Collective from Oregon. And the Draven Group from Nevada.”

I stare at him. “Why would packs from other states contact the sheriff about me?”

“Because they’re offering to ’manage’ your situation.” Miles says the word manage with a faint curl of his lip, the only indication that he feels anything about what he’s saying. “They’ve pitched it as a humanitarian gesture—taking in a vulnerable, unbonded Omega who’s clearly incapable of caring for herself. They’ve offered to provide you with ’guidance,’ ’structure,’ and ’appropriate Alpha oversight.’”

The air in the room turns to ice.

“They’re offering to what?” Daniel’s voice is dangerously quiet.

“To claim her,” Miles says flatly. “That’s what ’manage’ means in this context. These aren’t rescuers, Daniel. They’re predators. They see an unbonded Omega in a public crisis, and they see an opportunity. A high-profile acquisition that would demonstrate their pack’s ’benevolence’ while giving them control over a young woman who can’t fight back.”

My hands are shaking again. Not from sadness this time, but from rage.

“They don’t even know me.”

“They don’t need to know you. They know your designation. They know your status. To them, you’re not a person. You’re a narrative—a damaged Omega who needs saving, and saving her makes them look good.”

I look at Daniel. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. Mara has gone pale.

“Has the sheriff responded to them?” Daniel asks.

“He hasn’t engaged directly,” Miles says. “But he’s in a difficult position. These packs have lawyers and lobbyists. They can make things very uncomfortable for a small-town sheriff’s office if they feel they’re being stonewalled. Reddick is a good man, but he’s not equipped to fight a legal battle with three out-of-state packs simultaneously.”

“That’s not all,” Wyatt says from the door. “There’s more.”

“More?” My voice cracks.

“Sweet Creek Adventures is being sued.”

The room goes silent.

“Leo,” I whisper, turning my head to find him in the doorway. His face is gray.

“A law firm out of Denver filed the complaint yesterday,” Leo says, his voice hollow. “They’re representing the corporate group you took hiking before all this happened. They’re being led by some guy named Miller. He left a nasty review because he claims he was duped and wasn’t allowed to reach the summit. Now they’re claiming that you weren’t properly certified for the terrain you took them on, and that Sweet Creek Adventures showed ’gross negligence’ by allowing an unbonded Omega to lead a high-risk expedition.”

“That’s insane,” I say, forcing the words past a dry throat. “My solo hike had nothing to do with his trip. I have every state certification required, and I made the safety call for his group based on active weather reports.”

“They don’t care about facts,” Wyatt says. “Miller’s using the media attention from your accident to generate clout. All everyone really cares about is headlines. And the headline the lawsuit is pushing right now is ’Negligent Omega Guide Endangering Lives.’ They’re asking for two million in damages.”