Page 14 of Run Wild Omega

I scan the sky. The clouds are rolling in, a bruised purple-gray mass that means snow is coming fast. The temperature is dropping by the minute.

“No,” I say firmly. “We head down now.”

“Bullshit,” Miller snaps. “We paid for the summit!”

“And I’m telling you it’s not safe.” I look down toward the lower ridge, near the tree line.

A figure stands there. Dark green uniform. Broad shoulders. He’s supervising a group of volunteers who are setting up a snow fence near a dangerous cornice. He’s holding a radio to his mouth, his posture rigid, commanding.

Wyatt.

He must sense me looking, even with my scent blockers. He turns, lifting his gaze to the ridge where I stand. Even from this distance, the intensity of it hits me.

He waves. Just a small, two-finger salute. It’s polite. Professional.

My heart gives a traitorous little skip.

Over the last two years, our paths have crossed a dozen times. He runs Search and Rescue; I run tours up the mountain. We’re unavoidable. We’ve reached a truce, I suppose. We nod at each other across the lobby at the Lodge. We say “hey” in passing at the general store.

We don’t talk about the past. We don’t talk about us.

It’s amicable. It’s civilized.

And it sucks every single time.

Because he looks at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m just another person in town. He doesn’t see the girl he loved, the girl he left behind. He sees Tess Hartwell, the guide. He sees the armor.

I’m a stranger to him, just as he is to me. I don’t know the man who smokes, who has scars I didn’t put there, who stands like a soldier. He doesn’t know the woman who takes scent blockers, who leads men up mountains, who hates her own dreams.

“Tess! Are you listening to me?”

Miller’s voice breaks the spell. I blink, looking away from the ridge, away from Wyatt.

“I’m listening.” I turn my attention to the sweaty, red-faced tech guys. “And I said we’re turning around.”

“We’re going to the top!” Miller yells, stepping forward aggressively.

The other guys shift uncomfortably, looking from me to Miller. Gupta, the smaller one, shakes his head. “Actually, Miller, she’s right. Look at that sky. My weather app says heavy snow incoming.”

“Shut up, Gupta,” Miller snaps. “I’m the team lead here.”

I step into Miller’s space. I don’t care that he’s an Alpha. I don’t care that he’s paid extra. I’m the one with the beacon and the training.

“You want to climb the ridge? Fine.” I point a gloved finger at Wyatt’s distant figure. “You see that SAR team down there? They’re mitigating an avalanche risk on the slope above us. If you go up there, you’re not just risking your own life, you’re risking theirs because they’ll have to come dig you out when the slide hits. Now, are we walking down, or do I need to radio Wyatt and tell him you’re trespassing in a closed zone?”

Miller’s face turns a shade of purple that matches the clouds. He looks at the SAR team, then at the ominous sky, then at me. He knows he’s beat.

“This is bullshit,” he spits. “I’m writing a review.”

“Write whatever you want,” I say, turning my back on him to start the descent. “Just make sure you spell my name right.”

I stomp down the trail, snowshoes crunching loudly. My blood is hot, adrenaline pumping through my veins. God, I hate people like that. Men who think the world is a puzzle they paid to solve.

I glance back once, down toward the tree line. Wyatt is still there. He isn’t watching the group. He’s watching me.

Even from this far away, I can see the set of his shoulders, the way he stands like a rock in the middle of the river. He lifts a hand to his ear, speaking into the radio, but his eyes never leave mine.

I can’t read the expression on his face. It’s too far, too cold.