Page 73 of Stream Heat
“Dr. Patel said my system should stabilize if we keep adjusting the meds,” I said, resting my palms on the cool granite. “But the damage is there. I did a number on myself.”
Ash’s hands tightened on his keyboard, rage flickering in his eyes. “The suppressants.”
I nodded. “Eight years on military doses. It doesn’t come cheap.”
He grunted, like he was holding back a lecture. Malik just gave me a steady look. “No one blames you for doing what you had to,” he said.
I looked away, because the acceptance stung in a different way. I wasn’t used to it. I changed the subject. “So. Omega streamers?”
“They started a hashtag,” Jace said, coming up next to me. “#StandWithQuinn.”
I peeked out the window. A handful of people were on the lawn, holding up homemade signs.
Quinn Is Queen.
Omega Streamers Unite.
Health Before Content.
“They dropped off care packages, too,” Malik said, smile almost visible as he stirred the soup. “Snacks, recovery stuff, even a couple toys.”
I pressed my forehead to the glass and, for the first time all week, felt like maybe things weren’t hopeless after all.
Even as the hope stirred in my chest and I stared at the overflowing display of support, something bitter and tight inside me tried to fight back, but after a few moments of breathing through it, it finally gave way. "I don't get it," I admitted, voice flat. "Why are they backing me? I lied about being an Omega for years."
Ash just shrugged, deep voice lower than usual. "Because they know why you did it. They had to make the same bullshit calls to survive."
The simplicity of that hit me all at once, like a punch I hadn't seen coming. These weren't just randos feeding on drama for clicks. These were Omegas who'd lived the same double-life, survived the same industry that forced me to hide. And now, instead of tearing me down for it, they were closing ranks.
The front door opened; Reid and Theo came in, arms full of massive gift baskets.
"Your fan club sends their love," Theo said, dropping his haul on the counter. "Also, enough heat support products to run a black market out of our apartment."
"They're heading home now," Reid added, eyes cutting straight to me. "But they're streaming all week. Something about 'taking back the narrative.'"
I drifted over to check the baskets out. Heat packs, Omega-friendly snacks, soft blankets, handwritten notes. Stuffed way in the bottom, a set of custom gaming peripherals for Omegas with sensory issues. Exactly what I'd been struggling with last week.
"This is..." I had to pause, breath catching and throat tightening.
"Community," Malik said, matter-of-fact. "Been a while since you had one, huh?"
He nailed it. In my desperation to out-Beta the Betas, I'd gone out of my way to avoid other Omegas, to avoid anything that looked like weakness. I'd missed the one thing that might've actually made this shit easier.
I gestured helplessly, at the baskets, the kitchen, the five of them. "I don't even know what to do with this. With any of it."
"You don't have to figure it out tonight," Reid said, coming to stand beside me. His scent, all cedar and rain, wrapped aroundme and I realized my heartbeat had finally, finally slowed. "One thing at a time. Like eating."
"Soup's ready," Malik called, turning back to the stove. "Protein, easy on your stomach."
I watched them move around the kitchen, setting the table, pouring drinks, passing each other plates without looking. Not just some charity case for a sick teammate. This was pack stuff. This was instinct. It wasn’t showy. It was unconscious and impossible to fake.
And I belonged to it. Even if I'd been pretending not to.
Theo slid into a seat and grinned. "Now that Quinn is done being a feral heat-goblin, can we talk about her nest? Because I have never seen so many stolen Alpha t-shirts, or such expert pillow fortification."
Heat climbed up my neck as everyone looked at me. "I was going to put everything back," I muttered at my soup.
"No you weren't," Ash deadpanned. "And we don't want you to."
