The Omega and The Arrogant Alpha (by Kylie) novel Chapter 309

The call is still ringing when the first alert hits.

I am standing exactly where I was a second ago, tablet warm in my hand, Ben close enough that I can feel his presence without turning my head, and the room feels suspended between breaths, because this is the moment where control usually narrows to a single decision and today it doesn’t.

Sally’s tablet chirps first.

Then another terminal lights up.

Then the wall screen flashes and refreshes itself without being touched.

I do not answer the media call.

Not yet.

“What is that,” Ben asks quietly, and his voice is steady, but his body has gone rigid in the way it only does when something has already moved past containment.

Sally’s face drains of color as she scans the incoming data, her fingers moving fast across the screen while her jaw tightens with every line she reads, and when she finally looks up at me there is no hesitation left in her expression.

“The files are out,” she says. “Not all of them, but enough.”

My wolf surges forward, not aggressive or panicked, but fully awake, every instinct snapping into alignment as the implications land faster than my thoughts can organize them.

“Where,” I ask.

“Everywhere,” she replies, turning the main screen toward me.

Mirrored links flood the display, public repositories lighting up in cascading waves as file names are dissected and reshared across channels that move faster than any official response ever could, and my chest tightens when I recognize the formatting immediately, because this is not a rumor dump or a sloppy breach but a controlled release designed to be understood.

“These are internal,” I say, my voice flat despite the heat rising up my spine.

“Neither,” I say. “But silence lets them lie longer.”

Another alert flashes as public sentiment spikes, and a map blooms across the screen with regions lighting up while the files spread, reactions layering in real time as disbelief collapses into anger and anger sharpens into demands, with a quieter current running beneath it that feels like relief.

“They’re reading it,” Sally says. “Not just reacting.”

I close my eyes briefly and inhale, because this is the line I felt coming when Mara went live, the moment where truth stops asking for permission and becomes a force, and I know exactly what happens next if I do nothing, because the council will speak, they will frame this as unauthorized disclosure, and they will emphasize institutional integrity while promising investigation without consequence.

And survivors will hear the same language that kept them quiet the first time, so I say no quietly as I open my eyes, lift the tablet, and accept the waiting media call.

The screen shifts instantly and my image snaps into place, and for a brief moment I register my own reflection, composed and alert, aware that every expression will be examined before I finish speaking.

“Good morning,” I say evenly, letting the silence stretch just long enough to steady the room. “I am aware of the document release currently circulating, and I will answer clearly.”