Page 105 of Run Wild Omega

“Miles?” I ask softly. “Can I ask you something?”

He glances at me, his hands steady on the steering wheel. “Of course, Tess.”

“How did you… how did you end up in the pack with the guys?” I ask, my voice a little slurred. “Like… the whole pack formation thing. How did it happen?”

Miles lets out a laugh, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Ah. The origin story.”

He pauses, a fond look softening his usually serious features. “It was the winter after Dylan and Wyatt bonded. I was embedded with their SAR unit during a high-risk backcountry operation. A massive slide had trapped a group of skiers, and the snowpack was wildly unpredictable.”

I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders, hanging on his every word.

“Wyatt and Dylan were ready to charge straight into the slide zone,” Miles continues softly. “They had the guts, the training, the pure instinct. But they didn’t have the data. I was looking at my telemetry models, and I could see the stress fractures building in the upper snowpack. I knew a secondary collapse was coming.”

“What did you do?” I ask, leaning in.

“I pulled authority,” he says simply. “I ordered them to stand down. Wyatt looked like he wanted to strangle me. Dylan looked like he wanted to punch me. But two minutes later, the mountain shifted again. An entire avalanche swept right over the path they would have been standing on.”

I gasp softly, the imagery chilling me even through the alcohol haze.

“After that, they stopped looking at me as an egghead with a tablet,” Miles says, a gentle humor in his voice. “We were stuck in a snow command post for a week straight during the storm. Sharing coffee, huddled over maps, sleeping in shifts. Wyatt’s intensity needed grounding, Dylan’s impulsiveness needed balance, and I… well, I needed a place to land. The bond just sparked naturally. It felt like coming home.”

I laugh, the warmth of the story blooming in my chest, but the sound turns into a loud hiccup.

I clap both hands over my mouth, my eyes wide. Miles chuckles softly beside me.

I pull my hands away, swallowing hard. The lighthearted moment fades, replaced by the heavy, suffocating reality waiting for me back at my house. The lawsuits. Rourke. The Ashford Pack. The registration documents.

“Miles?” I whisper, staring down at my lap. “What do you think I should do about… everything? About the whole situation?”

The car slows as we hit a red light. Miles shifts in his seat, turning his full attention toward me. He reaches out, his large, warm hand wrapping around my cold, trembling fingers. He squeezes gently, grounding me instantly.

“I think,” Miles says, his voice completely devoid of judgment, “that you are the only one who gets to decide your life, Tess. You have the strength to make the best choice for yourself. Whatever you choose, we will stand behind you.”

I look at our joined hands, my chest aching. “I don’t trust myself to do that,” I admit, my voice breaking slightly. “I feel like I’m just reacting to everything.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a deep breath to stop the sudden prick of tears. “Can I… do you have any water?”

“In the cupholder right there,” he says gently.

I grab the metal water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a long, greedy gulp. It helps soothe the cotton-dry feeling in my throat, but my head is still spinning slightly.

“What time is it?” I ask, peering out the window into the pitch-black night.

Miles glances at the clock on the dash. “A little past two in the morning.”

“Shit,” I mutter, leaning my head back against the seat with a groan. “It’s so late.”

“It is,” he agrees quietly.

“I hate going back there right now.” I sigh, looking out at the snow. “I hate waking my parents up at two in the morning. Ever since the avalanche, ever since the news… they just treat me like a kid again. Like I’m helpless.”

Miles considers this for a moment, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the steering wheel as the light turns green and we roll forward. “Do you want me to drive you back to Mara’s house? You could sleep on her couch.”

I snort, laughter bursting out of me. “Mara and the guys are probably already fucking.”

The words leave my mouth before my brain can stop them. My eyes go wide as saucers. I instantly slam both hands over my mouth, my face flushing bright crimson.

“Oh my god,” I squeak through my fingers. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”