Page 22 of Stream Heat
"Not gone," he said, completely serious. "You just have to adapt. Pack Wrecked isn't going to throw you under the bus."
Before I could argue, the door opened. Reid and a woman in a white coat stepped in. She looked more like a favorite aunt than a doctor, but the way she zeroed in on me said "authority."
"Ms. Quinn," she greeted, professional and calm. "Glad you’re awake. How's the pain?"
"Like being chewed up and spit out," I said bluntly.
She barely blinked. "To be expected. Military suppressants have withdrawal like nothing else."
I waited for her to judge me, but she didn’t. Not even a flicker. "Are you going to report me?"
"There’s nothing to report," she said. "My only job is to get you through this alive."
Reid shifted closer. "Dr. Patel has a plan. You need to taper off with legal suppressants and stabilizers. No more cold withdrawal."
"Cold withdrawal could have killed you," the doctor added, as if reading my mind.
"How long?" I pressed, hating the desperation in my voice.
"First week is the worst. After that, we adjust as you stabilize. Fluids, meds, hormone management. Minimal stress."
I tried to argue, couldn’t help myself. "I can't be offline for a week. I need to show I'm okay, my audience, my sponsors–"
Reid cut me off with brutal efficiency. "You had a seizure, Quinn. You’re not streaming anything until you're cleared."
He had a point, not that I wanted to admit it.
Dr. Patel was more diplomatic. "If your vitals improve after forty-eight hours, maybe a short update, but nothing taxing. We’ll see."
I bit back the urge to scream. "Fine. Forty-eight hours. But then I’m back."
Reid’s mouth twisted. "You’re not a machine, Quinn. Your health comes first."
"It's the same thing," I shot back. "You want content? You get me in front of a camera."
He saw right through me. "Forty-eight hours. Then only if the doctor says so. Joint announcement. Nothing crazy."
It wasn’t much, but it was all I could wring out of him. "Deal."
Dr. Patel nodded, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I'll be back to check your IV in four hours. Rest is mandatory. No arguments."
She swept out, leaving the room strangely quiet. Jace had vanished, so it was just me and Reid, and all the things neither of us wanted to say.
"You should sleep," he started, but I cut him off.
"What are you telling people? About me?"
He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Nothing yet. We're waiting for your input before any public announcement. Only our manager and your manager know the basics."
That was something, at least. "I approve all statements," I insisted. "Nothing goes out unless I say so."
He nodded. "That's not the problem, Quinn. No one's trying to control you."
I looked at the IV in my arm, felt the stiffness in my body, and almost laughed. "Really? Because right now, it kind of looks like a rescue operation. Big strong Alphas saving the broken Omega."
He came in closer, zero bullshit. "That’s not what this is. This is making sure you don’t kill yourself for the sake of a public image."
I was so tired. Too tired to keep fighting.
