Page 111 of Stream Heat
"But it would also put all of you in the public eye," I pointed out. "People will have opinions. About us. About you, and your roles in my life. Are you actually okay with that?"
Five pairs of eyes flicked back and forth. That weird Alpha silent messaging thing.
"We're in," Reid said. "If you think it helps you tell your story better, that's what we want."
"All of you?"
"All of us," Jace said, closing the circle.
A warmth flushed over me, steady and grounding. "Okay. I'll tell Callie it's a group stream. Six of us. No scripts, just real conversation about support, consent, and what healthy relationships look like, even in a pressure cooker industry like this."
As I typed my response, I realized it was the first thing all day that felt... right. Not the exposé, not the trending hashtags, not even the lawsuit. But this. Telling the world what real, honest support looked like. Showing the difference between being used and being cared for. Isolation, versus a pack at your back.
Tomorrow night, they'd see it for themselves.
And maybe, just maybe, someone out there would realize what they truly deserved, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Chapter 33
Kara
The stream wasn’t supposed to start until seven, but by five I’d already started to unravel.
“I can’t do this,” I said, pacing a rough groove into the carpet while the pack watched with various shades of concern. “What was I thinking? Six people on one stream, talking about industry abuse and healthy relationships? It’s going to get ugly.”
“Then we’ll handle it,” Jace said, voice soft but unshakable. “Together.”
I finally stopped pacing long enough to take in the group. They looked like the world’s weirdest support group, dressed in that calculated way that walked right up to the edge of “approachable” without ever stumbling into “try-hard.” Reid in his backwards snapback. Malik in a cardigan so soft you’d want to bury your face in it. Theo in a graphic tee that radiated chaos but somehow still worked on him. Jace and Ash both in button-downs, simple and unpretentious.
They hadn’t planned it out loud, but they’d still shown up, coordinated. Sending one message, we’re united, and we’re not here to pick a fight. The realization almost hurt.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, letting the words fall with a weight I hadn’t expected.
“Of what, specifically?” Malik, trusting his therapist voice to gentle the question.
I sank down onto my bed, energy bleeding out through my fingertips. “Of people thinking I’m weak for needing support. Of them thinking you’re all controlling me, not caring for me. Of this whole thing getting twisted into something ugly. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I mess it up for other victims? Last time I was just talking about my experience, but now I’m talking about it in reference to others as well.”
Reid sat next to me, not close enough to crowd, but close enough I could feel him there, steady as bedrock. “You don’t have to say everything perfectly. You don’t have to represent everyone. Just be honest about your own experience.”
“But people are counting on me–”
“People are counting on you to be yourself,” Theo said, cutting me off with a flick of his hand. “Same person who called Reid an ‘ego with thumbs’ on stream, and then went and torched a corrupt industry. That person doesn’t need to be perfect. Just real.”
I stared at the floor. “What if being real isn’t enough?”
“It’s been enough so far,” Ash pointed out, quiet but certain. “Your honesty is what started this. Your willingness to be vulnerable is what let others feel brave enough to do the same.”
“And tonight,” Malik added, “you’re not being vulnerable alone. You have us.”
The words didn’t magic away the anxiety, but something inside me unclenched. I wasn’t walking into the lion’s den by myself. I had backup.
“Okay,” I breathed, running my hands over my knees to keep them still. “Let’s do this. But if it tanks…”
“It won’t,” Reid said simply, the way people say the sun will rise. “And if it does, we’ll clean up the mess after.”
An hour passed. Ash reconfigured my gaming room, adjusting furniture and running cables until the place looked, through the eye of a camera, relaxed but purposeful. The couch and chairs sat under warm, soft lights, a little oasis of calm and color. Six people, all in frame.
