Page 88 of Stream Heat
“So there are others.” I pressed on. “They’ve all been given the same stuff that nearly killed me, and Nexus is hoping I’ll step over their bodies for a payout.”
“I can’t confirm or deny,” he said, voice thinner.
“Let me be clear.” I didn’t hide my anger. “I’m not taking a deal that protects me and leaves the rest to rot. Address the system, or we’re done.”
Another pause. I could practically hear the scramble on the other end. “I’ll take your concerns to Ms. Smith.”
“While you’re at it, tell her that bribing multiple witnesses ahead of a disclosure event is legally dicey. You’ll want counsel.”
I hung up, heart pounding.
Reid whistled, low and appreciative. “That was good.”
“It was terrifying,” I admitted. But necessary.
My phone lit up with Victoria’s name. I knew it was coming. This time, I answered. Speaker on.
“You stupid, ungrateful little bitch,” she spat. “Do you have any idea what you’re throwing away? What I’m trying to save you from?”
I kept my voice even, almost bored. “I know what you’re really trying to save, Victoria. Your company. Your own ass. Not me.”
“You think those Alphas care about you? They want the drama. When the numbers drop, so will you. You’ll be nothing.”
Reid bristled but stayed silent. He trusted me to handle this.
“You don’t know them. And you don’t know me,” I said. “I’m not a kid anymore, and I’m sure as hell not begging for your approval.”
Silence. Then a dangerous calm. “Fine. But you’ll regret this. Remember the Tokyo Invitational? The one we both agreed never happened?”
My stomach twisted. The Tokyo Invitational, when I’d been on double the suppressants, fighting a breakthrough heat. Everything had turned to static that night.
“What about it?”
“I have footage,” she purred, smug. “Hotel security. You off your face in the hallway, latching onto a room-service Alpha. The way we had to sedate you to get you under control. That story goes public if you don’t cancel tonight and sign.”
Reid’s face turned to stone.
“That’s not what happened,” I said, rage burning in my throat. “You overdosed me on suppressants. I was collapsing from toxicity. The Alpha was helping me back to my room.”
“Not what the tape shows. To everyone else, it’s an Omega in heat going after someone who didn’t consent. Career-ending stuff.”
My mind raced. Did they have cameras? I barely remembered it.
“Check your email,” she said. “A taste. The rest goes live unless you back out.” Then she hung up.
I opened the email. It was a video file, grainy but clear enough. A hallway, me weaving, barely upright. The room-service guy approached. I reached for him, slumping against his chest, nose pressed against his collar. Classic heat behavior if you didn’t know what you were looking at.
“That’s not what happened,” I whispered, shame and anger burning in my throat. “He was helping me. I was sick, not in heat.”
“Anyone with a brain and a medical degree will see it,” Reid said. “But the masses don’t care about context.”
“So we give it to them,” I said. “We admit what really happened. The suppressants. The overdose. She thinks she’s got ammo, but it’s just more proof.”
Reid smiled, sharp and proud. “We’ll find the room-service guy. Get his testimony. Back it up with your medical records. It’s airtight if he talks.”
“His name was Jin,” I said, the memory flickering. “He was a med student. He knew it was toxicity. That’s why he helped me.”
Reid was already texting the others.
