Page 118 of Run Wild Omega

“I told him I’m falling for all three of you.”

The words hang in the cab of my truck like smoke. I can feel my pulse in my temples. My mouth is dry.

“All three of us,” I say.

“I know how that sounds. I know it’s insane. I didn’t plan this, Dylan. I swear to God I didn’t. But everything that’s happened, the avalanche, the rescue, the pack, Rourke, all of it… it’s like something cracked open inside me and I can’t close it again. And I’m terrified that you’re going to look at me the way people look at Omegas who can’t pick a lane, like I’m confused or greedy or broken, but I’m not confused. I know exactly what I feel.”

She’s crying now, tears spilling fast down her cheeks as she stares at her hands.

“You make me feel brave,” she whispers. “You ran into a burning mountain for me. You carried me down a slope in a whiteout because you refused to let me go. And every time I look at you, I think about how lucky I am that someone like you exists in the same world as me.”

I can’t speak. My chest is full of something enormous and indescribable, pressing against my ribs until breathing becomes a conscious effort.

“And Miles makes me feel seen. He listens. He doesn’t try to fix me. He just… sees me. All of it. The mess, the fear, the things I’m ashamed of. And Wyatt… Wyatt is my home. He’s always been my home.”

She turns to me, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Please say something.”

“I don’t have the words,” I rasp. “Only this.”

I reach across the center console, cup the back of her neck, and drag her to me.

My mouth slams onto hers, rough and desperate. I pour into the kiss everything I’ve been carrying since the moment I dug her out of that snowbank—the terror of watching her freeze, the agony of waiting by her bed, the suffocating fear that I was going to lose her before she ever belonged to me.

My mouth works over hers, tasting salt and the bitter edge of hospital coffee. She gasps against my lips, her hand fisting in my jacket to pull me closer, her scent crashing over me like a tidal wave.

I kiss her until neither of us can breathe. When I pull back, with my forehead resting against hers and my chest heaving, I’m shaking.

“I have wanted you,” I say, each word rough and stripped bare, “more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. Since the mountain. Since I pulled you out of that hole and held you against my chest and felt your heartbeat against mine. I’ve been losing my mind, Tess. I’ve been going through the motions, doing the rotation, playing the part, and every single day, every hour, I’ve been thinking about you.”

She lets out a broken laugh, her thumb tracing my jaw. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because you’re injured. Because Rourke is circling. Because the pack is a mess. Because Miles and Wyatt are my brothers, and I didn’t want to make things complicated.”

“Things are already complicated.”

“Yeah.” I laugh, a breathless, incredulous sound. “They really are.”

I pull back enough to look at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from the kiss, her eyes bright with a mixture of fear and hope and something that looks a lot like relief.

“I don’t know what this means,” I admit. “For the pack. For us. But I know I’m not walking away from you.”

“Neither am I,” she whispers.

“Good.”

I lean in to kiss her again, and this time it’s deeper, more thorough. Her tongue slides against mine, and I groan into her mouth, my hand tightening on her neck. She tastes like possibility, like everything I’ve been too afraid to reach for.

A movement in the windshield catches my eye.

I pull back. Tess blinks, dazed, and follows my gaze.

Standing on the other side of the parking lot, next to a black sedan with Connecticut plates, is Jason Rourke. He’s wearing another expensive coat, his hands in his pockets, and he’s watching us with a flat, calculating expression.

My blood runs cold. Tess tenses beside me.

“He’s been there the whole time?” I mutter.