Page 57 of Stream Heat
Ten minutes later I was on the couch in the living room, five Alphas around me, my medical disaster projected on a giant screen. I didn’t have it in me to repeat the litany of things wrong with me, so I just nodded when Reid asked if he could share the details.
As he laid out Dr. Levine’s findings, total body system meltdown, likely permanent, all because I’d sold myself out for suppressants.
I watched their faces.
I waited for the disgust, the disappointment, the calculation of my value as it tanked.
Instead, what I got was fury, on my behalf, a quiet kind, and something that looked like stubborn loyalty.
"So basically," Theo summed up, "those Nexus Management assholes slow-poisoned you for profit, and now your body’s in open revolt."
"That’s one way to put it," I said, voice flat.
"It’s criminal," Ash growled, barely holding onto his rage. "Someone should–"
"For what crime?" I cut in, harsher than I intended. "I took them of my own free will. No one stuck a gun to my head."
Jace was calmer, clinical. "Coercion doesn’t always need violence. They manipulated you. That counts as exploitation."
I wanted to argue but couldn’t. The absolution in their eyes stung in a way I couldn’t name. "Doesn’t matter. It’s done. The question is, what the hell do we do now?"
"You follow the doctor’s plan." Malik, steady as ever. "Withdrawal, liver meds, whatever else he gave you."
"And what about the tournament? The streaming calendar? Our sponsors who want results? I’m already operating at half capacity. Now you want me to roll up and compete with a body that might melt down at any second?"
"We adapt," Reid said, simple as that. "We adjust the schedule. We build a narrative that works for you."
I let out a jagged laugh. "What narrative? The tragic Omega who blew out her health playing pretend?"
"How about the one who’s breaking glass ceilings in a biased industry?" Jace threw in, deadpan. "The one fighting her biology and still kicking ass."
"Or the Omega who finally tells the world to shove it and owns her story," Theo added, practically vibrating with excitement. "We make it your brand instead of your secret."
I didn’t know what to say to that. They saw opportunity, when all I saw was the end of the line.
"And the pack bonding?" I said at last, voice barely audible. "If it’s medically necessary, is that…on the table?"
All five sets of eyes zeroed in on me, the room suddenly buzzing with something dangerous.
"Your call," said Reid, careful and deliberate. "No one here is going to push you."
"But if I said yes. If I wanted it. You’d…?"
Charged silence. On some level, the air was thick with unspoken Alpha tension, like scent caught between thunderclouds.
"We’d be open to it," Reid confirmed. The way he said it, voice low and resonant, did things to my Omega brain I tried not to acknowledge. "If that’s what you wanted."
"Not for pity," I said, sharper than necessary. "I couldn’t take that."
Ash snorted. "No one's pitying you. You know that. You see how we respond to you? Don’t play dumb."
He wasn’t wrong. I had noticed, even if I lied to myself about it. The instinctual way they shifted when I walked in, the subtle accommodations, the fact that I’d started stealing their hoodies and hats for my nest without even thinking. Just like they pretended not to see the evidence, I pretended I didn’t need it.
"This doesn’t have to be decided today," Malik interjected, always the diplomatic one. "Quinn’s recovery comes first. Full stop."
"Yeah," Theo added, bouncing in his seat. "No pressure. Just options."
All I could do was nod, the exhaustion catching up in a tidal wave. The reality crash-landed on me, stealing whatever fight I had left.
