Page 33 of Run Wild Omega

“Please,” I whisper, the word lost in the wind. “I don’t want to die.”

I rest my head back against the rock. The snow is falling softly on my face, settling on my eyelashes like a shroud. The gray tunnel closes in, tighter and tighter, until there’s nothing left but the cold and the dark.

Miles

The office is quiet, a state of being I have grown to cherish over the last few years. Since Wyatt issued the directive suspending all non-essential hiking on the north face due to avalanche risk, the usually chaotic hub of Search and Rescue has settled into a low, steady hum.

I’m sitting at my desk, surrounded by my three monitors. On the left, a weather model shows a complex frontal system stalling over the Rockies. In the center, the latest telemetry from the snowpack sensors. On the right, I have a digital copy of The Brothers Karamazov, which I am technically reading for pleasure, though my brain keeps trying to analyze the theological subtext through the lens of group psychology.

It’s peaceful.

Life here in Sweet Creek Falls is so different from the pristine, quiet academic aquarium my parents envisioned for me, and from the life of the lonely, invisible boy I was growing up. They wanted me in a university tower, surrounded by leather-bound books and silent contemplation. They never imagined me in a tactical vest, eating cold pizza while tracking wind shear.

But I have never been happier.

I have purpose. I have a pack that feels like family. And for the first time, I am not watching from the sidelines.

Wyatt stands up from his desk, groaning as his spine pops. He walks over to the window, looking out at the parking lot where the snow is starting to pile up again.

At his feet, a tiny ball of fur uncurls and lets out a high-pitched, demanding meow.

Pip.

Wyatt has been bringing her to the office the last couple of days, claiming we aren’t as busy, so she’s not much of a distraction.

“Look at her,” Wyatt says, glancing down at the cat. “She’s looking at you like you’re a can of tuna.”

“She’s looking at you like you’re a servant,” I correct, but I reach down and scratch behind her ears. She leans into my hand, purring so loudly I can hear it over the computer fans.

I’ve always been a dog person. Dogs are straightforward. You pet them, their tail wags, they love you. Cats are a mystery wrapped in arrogance. But I make an exception for Pip. She’s got spirit. And she makes Wyatt smile, which is a rarity these days.

“We should call it,” Wyatt says, checking his watch. “It’s almost 5:30.”

“Data collection is done. The models are stable.” I save my work and close the windows. “We’re good.”

Just as I stand up, the exterior door swings open.

Dylan walks in.

Our group chat has been silent for the last couple of days, which is unusual for him. Normally, we can’t get him to shut up about whatever fire he put out or what he ate for lunch. Seeing him walk in physically after the radio silence feels… significant.

I know something happened between him and Wyatt, but since neither of them has mentioned it, I’ve decided to wait.

Dylan smells of woodsmoke and warm amber—a scent he carries with him like a second skin. He’s carrying a six-pack of beer, the glass clinking together in his hand. He looks tired, the shadows under his eyes darker than usual, but there’s a restless energy radiating off him.

“Hey,” he says, stopping just inside the threshold. He looks at Wyatt, then me. “Room for one more?”

“Always,” Wyatt says. “You coming off shift?”

“Yeah.” Dylan walks over to the empty chair near the door and drops into it, letting his head fall back. “Long one. That apartment complex on 4th Street… faulty wiring. We were there for six hours.”

“Everyone get out?” I ask, leaning against my desk.

“Yeah. Minimal damage to the structure, but a lot of smoke inhalation.” Dylan sets the beer on the table. “Sorry, by the way.”

“For what?” Wyatt asks, his brow furrowing.

“For overstepping.” Dylan looks at his boots. “With Tess. I shouldn’t have invited her without talking to you guys first. I know it’s… complicated.”