The Omega and The Arrogant Alpha (by Kylie) novel Chapter 313

The room has not settled since Ben said no, and I can feel it vibrating under my skin, the kind of tension that comes when too many decisions are being made at once and none of them are aligned, and I stay where I am because movement right now would look like retreat.

Ben does not let go of my hand, not even when Sally steps in close with her tablet held tight to her chest and her expression sharpened by the kind of calculation that usually precedes a warning.

“They’re isolating channels,” she says quietly. “Selective delays. Some feeds are clean, some aren’t.”

I nod, because that tracks with everything else they have done today, and because the system always tries to slow truth down before it tries to stop it entirely.

Ben shifts beside me, and I feel it before he speaks, the subtle change in posture that tells me he has already made a decision and is simply waiting for the right moment to let it land.

“I’m going to say something,” he says.

I turn my head and look at him fully, really look, because I know that tone, and I know what it costs when he uses it.

“Where,” I ask.

“Everywhere,” he replies, and there is no hesitation in his voice, just a steady resolve that settles into the room like gravity.

Sally’s eyes flick between us. “Ben,” she starts, then stops, because she knows as well as I do that once he is here, at this point, warnings will not change his mind.

“They already tried to use me,” he continues, still looking at me, not the room. “If I stay quiet now, they’ll do it again, and next time it won’t be subtle.”

My wolf presses closer under my ribs, not alarmed but intent, recognizing the shift from defense to declaration, and I tighten my grip on his hand once, not to stop him, but to anchor him.

“They’ll come for you,” I say quietly.

“I know,” he replies. “They already are.”

Sally exhales slowly, then straightens. “If you’re doing this, we do it clean.”

Ben nods once. “Live.”

That single word changes the temperature of the room.

Sally moves immediately, rerouting feeds and opening channels that have been hovering in standby since the first drop, and within seconds the wall screen shifts, interfaces layering over each other as reach projections and security assessments scroll past faster than I can read them.

Ben steps forward slightly, just enough to put himself fully in frame, and I realize with a sharp clarity that this is the first time today he has chosen visibility instead of proximity.

“Earlier today,” Ben says, “I was asked privately by senior leadership to distance myself from Savannah and to issue a statement framing her actions as independent and destabilizing.”

The reaction is immediate, even though I cannot hear it yet, a sharp spike on the sentiment graph flaring red and white as the words cut through the fog they have been trying to build.

“They framed it as protection,” he continues, unflinching. “They said public confidence required cohesion, and they implied consequences if I refused.”

He looks directly into the camera now, and I know this is the moment they will try to interrupt, but the feed holds.

“I refused,” he says.

The word lands heavy and clean.

“I am speaking now because silence would make me complicit in a strategy that prioritizes containment over accountability, and because I will not allow concern for stability to be used as a weapon against truth.”

Questions begin to flood in, but Ben does not slow down, because he knows the window is narrow and interruption is coming.

“I want to be clear,” he continues. “Savannah did not coordinate the file releases, and she did not instruct anyone to go public, and the suggestion that she is unstable because she listened is both inaccurate and dangerous.”