Page 9 of Stream Heat
"Partnership on hold. Channel demonetized, VODs pulled. Legal says it's open-ended until the review’s done."
I got the message, no money until they figured out if they could keep profiting off me, or if I was officially radioactive.
He bailed on the call, leaving me alone with the facts: The pills wouldn't arrive for a day and a half. The heat was already simmering, my body rebounding hard from years of chemical cages, coming apart at the seams.
I showered just for something to do, cranking the water to arctic until my whole body went numb. It didn’t help. If anything, the cold just made my skin flare hotter. When I checked social media again, things had escalated, if that was even possible. Someone had done a "greatest hits" montage of me trash-talking Alphas, then cut it right before the second I broke on stream. Caption: When you clown Alphas nonstop but your Omega self can’t hack it.
Three million views. My humiliation in HD.
Gaming news sites were spitting up headlines, everything from “Queen Quinn Heat Controversy! Sponsors bail!” to “Downfall of an Esports Icon!”
I kept scrolling, but it was all the same. Sponsors running. Fans deciding what I was worth now, and apparently the answer was not much.
Victoria called again for the ‘big meeting.’ I answered, dripping and half-naked, because what did it matter now? There was nothing left to pretend to be, my secret was out.
They tore me apart for an hour straight. Picked through my "brand violations" like I was roadkill on the dissecting table.They had stats on how fast the sponsors vanished, over 80% of my income, gone in twelve hours. They "workshopped" whether to spin the Omega reveal or try to hide it under a "rare medical diagnosis." Meanwhile not a single person asked if I was alive or dying, nevermind if there was anything they could do to help.
"The suppressants will be here tomorrow," I offered, barely above a whisper. "Then I’ll be fine."
"Kara," Victoria said, this time with something that almost sounded like sympathy. That terrified me more than her usual anger. "You need to get this. No one is ever going to believe you’re a Beta again. There’s no going back."
"But–"
"The only choice we have is to control the story. We're drafting a statement for you. We’re thinking something along the lines of a late Omega presentation, possible medical delay, all that. And then we pivot into your 'brave new journey' as a newly-manifested Omega figurehead."
Like it was inspiring. Like I hadn’t just lost everything that mattered to me in one night.
"And if I say no?"
Dead silence. Like she was waiting to see if I’d even ask.
"That’s not really an option," someone said finally. Flat. Final.
After the call, I just curled up on my mattress and tried to disappear under the covers. The notifications came in waves, I left them unread. At some point, I let go, and the tears came, ugly and hot and endless, until the only thing left was exhaustion.
Tomorrow the pills would arrive. Maybe tomorrow I could fix it. Maybe tomorrow there would still be something left to fix.
But tonight, the only thing I could do was fall apart, alone, and hope I’d survive long enough to claw my way out again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kara
I was half-dead on the bathroom floor, clutching my stomach and wondering if I’d ever bother getting up, when someone banged on the door. Not even a gentle knock, but a sharp, insistent sound that felt personal, somehow. The heat and cold kept cycling through me, my skin crawling like it wanted to escape, muscles firing off random spasms every time I thought I might have caught a break. Every breath felt too hot, like I was inhaling my own ruin. There was no hiding how wrecked I was; I’d been here for hours, way too destroyed to even pretend trying for the bed after the last time I puked my guts out.
That knock, though. It made my heart jolt, half hope, half dread, all regret. The suppressants had to be here early, finally. There wasn’t room in me for dignity; I just about tore the towel bar out of the wall getting upright, then made the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror. Fantastic. I looked like someone’s leftovers after a street fight. Eyes sunken and rimmed dark, sweat slicked across dirty, uneven skin, hair sticking to my skull. Barely recognizable as human, let alone myself.
Another knock. Louder this time. I guess patience is not in the delivery guy starter pack. Moving to the door was hell, eachstep feeling more like a dare than a movement. If I didn’t get this delivery, I might as well set the place on fire and start over. I needed the box. I needed something, anything, to make the shakes stop, to stop smelling everything, to not feel like my own life was slipping through the cracks under my feet.
"Coming," I rasped, even though my voice shredded itself on the way out. "Please be the suppressants," I muttered to myself.
“She sounds like she’s dying.” Theo’s voice was all too familiar, making me stop just as I reached for the lock. Yeah. Of course, I wasn’t that lucky.
They didn’t really come here did they?
“Stop. Kicking in her door is crossing a line,” Malik’s voice sounded quietly from the other side.
“Won’t matter if she crashes permanently.” Ash’s blunt words sent a chill down my spine.
