Page 37 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

“Show me,” I said, dragging the covers off and sliding over to join him at the little makeshift workstation.

The next two hours passed in a way I barely noticed, Ash typing and diagramming, me pointing out how certain triggers or cues landed differently when my senses were overloaded. It was easy. Effective. Like two halves of a mechanism slotting together, clicking into place without friction.

Dawn was just bleeding through the curtains when my phone lit up, Victoria Smith’s name screaming at me in all-caps. My stomach clenched.

“You don’t have to answer,” Ash said.

“I do.” I thumbed the green button. “Victoria.”

Her voice was frost-edged and lethal. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you have any idea what kind of legal shitstorm you’ve just created?”

I didn’t give her an inch. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Providing illegal suppressants to minors seems bigger than the NDA I signed.”

“You signed NDAs. Confidentiality agreements. Waivers that specifically covered those medications.”

“I was sixteen. And those agreements don’t cover illegal activity.”

She almost let the mask slip entirely as she hissed, “You ungrateful little–” but then collected herself. “Listen carefully, Kara. This doesn’t have to be adversarial. I can still help you.”

“Help me?” I couldn’t contain the bitterness. “Like you helped me destroy my liver?”

Quiet now, almost conspiratorial, she offered, “I can get you more suppressants. The real ones. Not the watered down shit. Enough to get you through this, get back to a marketable presentation.”

It was so obscene I almost laughed, but rage ate up the urge.

“Are you serious? You think I want more of what nearly killed me?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she scoffed. “You’re not the only client I support like this. Dozens of young creators depend on it to maintain the image we built.”

Ash tensed next to me, his scent going sharp and cold with fury.

Victoria pressed on, sensing weakness but unprepared for the steel on my end of the line.

“Think about it, Kara. Your multiple heat crashes on stream. Your ‘pack’ gets tired of babysitting an unstable Omega. Your content suffers. Or you take the suppressants, get your Beta edge back, and we rebuild your brand as the comeback queen.”

“The suppressants could kill her,” Ash snarled, voice lethal.

Victoria froze at the sound of him, but only for a heartbeat. “I see you have one of your Alpha bodyguards. Cute. Does he know you’re just using them? Once you’re stabilized, you won’t need their little pack playacting anymore.”

A calculated strike, aiming straight for my oldest wound: the fear that my bonds with the pack were transactional, that I’d be abandoned the second I lost my use.

“You don’t know anything about us,” I bit out. “And you don’t know me anymore. I’m not that desperate sixteen-year-old.”

Her tone went cold as a blade. “Fine. Have it your way. But you realize those accusations in your so-called manifesto are actionable. Defamatory. I can bury you in litigation until you’re radioactive to every sponsor and platform.”

“Go ahead,” I said. “Discovery works both ways, Victoria. How many other young Omegas have you put on suppressants? How many are sick from it? If this gets out, how many doctors, pharma reps, and execs do you think go down with you?”

She went silent. I knew I’d pushed her off-balance.

“You’re making a mistake,” she finally said. “This industry forgets scandals but never forgives troublemakers. No one will work with you again.”

“I’m not alone,” I told her. And for the first time, I wasn’t lying.

I ended the call.

Ash let out a long breath. “She’s terrified. You’ve got her cornered.”

“She’s still dangerous.” My hands were steady, calm. “And she wasn’t bluffing. There are others out there like me, Ash. Kids who have no idea what this shit does long-term.”

“Then we help them, too,” he said, like it was obvious.

Before I could respond, my phone rang again. This time Callie Cross was calling through the messenger service we used. I answered. “Quinn.”

Her voice was animated, elated. “Are you seeing this? We’re trending in God knows how many countries. #OmegaTruth and #DesignationLiberation are everywhere!”

I yanked up the tags myself. It was true. Not just my story, but hundreds, maybe thousands, pouring in. Streamers, content creators, influencers from every dark corner of the internet, talking about designation and the toll of shaping yourself to survive.

"It’s not just you anymore," Callie said. "It’s a fucking movement. Safety in numbers, right?"

The momentum was dizzying. It felt less like a ripple and more like a dam breaking.

“It’s what we wanted,” Callie added. “Enough people that they can’t brush us off or call us troublemakers.”

The door opened. Reid slipped in, drawn and tired, but locked on me instantly. I let him see I was alright.

“Victoria called,” I said, filling both him and Callie in. “Tried bribing me with more suppressants, then threatened to sue me.”

“Typical.” Callie sounded unimpressed. “They try the sugar before the stick.”

“She said she’s got dozens of other kids on the same stuff,” I told them. “We have to find them.”

Already in motion. “We’re building an anonymous reporting channel,” Callie said. “Legal and medical support, too. Malik’s tapped some pros.”

“I want to help,” I said.

“Your post already did,” Callie replied, laughing. “But if you’re up for it, we’re organizing a multi-stream tonight. Designation Truth Summit. Every big name that’s willing to talk about the problem, no filters.”

I glanced at Reid. He nodded without hesitation.

“Count me in. The whole pack, if you want us.”

“Perfect. Details coming your way. Get some rest, Quinn. You’re about to be busier than ever.”

After the call, I sat there, phone in my lap, trying to get my bearings. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d thought it was all over for me. Now the machine was running full-throttle and, somehow, I’d become its engine.

“You okay?” Reid asked, sitting down on the bed beside me.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just…I didn’t expect it to become something bigger than my own situation.”

“That’s how these things start,” he replied. “One person’s last straw becomes everyone’s tipping point.”

Ash shut down his laptop, stretched his huge arms overhead. “I’ll fill the others in about Victoria. Legal might escalate fast.”

He left. Reid watched him go, then looked back at me.

“He was here all night,” I told Reid. “Didn’t leave my side.”

“Not surprised,” he said. “We took shifts. Theo was supposed to tag in, but Ash wouldn’t let up.”

It clicked then. “These bonds. It’s not just me, is it? The pack instincts.”

“They’ve always been there,” Reid said. “Just didn’t call it what it was until now.”

It felt good, hearing it said out loud. That I wasn’t just a problem to be solved. That these attachments mattered both ways.

“Victoria tried to convince me the pack would leave the second I wasn’t helpless,” I admitted. “That this was all temporary.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “She doesn’t understand. This is family. The real kind.”

The word landed, perfect and final.

“I’ve never had that,” I said. “Not for real.”

“You do now,” Reid told me. “And we’re not going anywhere.”

Light was spilling through the window now, soft gold tangling in the nest of blankets and borrowed Alpha hoodies I’d built up. For the first time since this nightmare began, I stopped feeling like prey.

I felt powerful.

Not despite being Omega, but because of it. Not despite needing a pack, but because I’d finally found one.

Stella had set out to make a cautionary tale of me. Joke’s on her.

She had no idea what kind of example I’d end up being.