The Omega and The Arrogant Alpha (by Kylie) novel Chapter 308

The comments start scrolling at the bottom of the feed.

Support.

Disbelief.

Anger.

Denial.

All of it tangled together and multiplying faster than anyone can moderate.

“I am not asking for revenge,” she says, and now her voice is strong, carrying across the room and through the screen. “I am asking for acknowledgment. I am asking for this to stop.”

She steps back from the table then, breathing hard, and the feed cuts abruptly as someone off camera reaches for the device.

The silence in my kitchen is deafening.

The tablet vibrates again in my hand, notifications stacking rapidly, internal and external channels lighting up at the same time like something has been torn open and cannot be closed again.

“They went public,” Ben says.

“Yes,” I reply, because understatement feels safer than saying what I am really thinking, which is that this changes everything.

I move without thinking, grabbing my jacket and sliding my feet into my shoes, my wolf pacing hard now, instincts firing in every direction as my mind races through consequences and response windows and the thousand ways this can spiral if mishandled.

“Where are you going,” Ben asks.

“Operations,” I say. “Before they try to speak for me.”

Because they will.

They always do.

The corridors are already buzzing when I arrive, voices raised just enough to betray the strain underneath, people clustered around screens and terminals, eyes flicking toward me and away again like they are waiting to see which version of me walks through the door.

Sally meets me halfway down the hall, her expression tight and controlled.

“She went live twenty minutes ago,” she says. “It’s already being mirrored.”

“Of course it is,” I reply.

“The council is drafting a statement,” she adds.

My jaw tightens.

“Without me,” I say.

“Yes.”

Ben steps in closer behind me, his presence a solid weight at my back.

“They’re framing it as unauthorized disclosure,” Sally continues. “They’re emphasizing stability and ongoing review.”

“They’re calling her reckless,” I say.

“Yes.”

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to stay grounded as anger coils hot and sharp in my chest, because this is exactly what they warned her about, and exactly what they were always going to do.

“Pull the live metrics,” I say. “I want reach, engagement, sentiment.”

Sally nods and moves quickly.

I step into the operations room and stare at the main screen as data starts streaming in, watching the numbers climb, watching the geographic spread widen, watching patterns form that confirm what I already know.

This is not going away.

Ben’s voice is low at my shoulder. “They’re going to force you to respond.”

“Yes,” I say.

“And if you do,” he continues, “they’ll say you encouraged it.”

“And if I don’t,” I reply, “they’ll say I condoned it.”

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