Page 49 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

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.

Callie’s face appeared on the video wall, nerves written in the pop of her bubblegum. “Are we ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I answered, eyes darting to the rising viewer count. “Looks like the audience is already here.”

“Okay, going live, now,” Callie’s voice shifted into streamer mode, bright and magnetic, “Hey everyone, tonight we’re doing something special.

Kara Quinn is back, and she’s brought friends.

We’re going to talk about support systems, healthy relationships, and what it means to have people at your back when things get difficult. ”

The chat went off like a bomb.

PACK WRECKED!

this is going to be amazing

love seeing alpha support that’s actually supportive

here for the drama

how much are they paying you guys to be here

“Hi, everyone,” I said, letting my voice fall into the familiar cadence. Might as well lean into it now. “Thanks for joining us tonight. It’s been an intense week, and I wanted to address some questions directly.”

Callie started strong. “Let’s start with the obvious. The StreamWatch article dropped some major revelations. How are you holding up?”

“It’s been overwhelming,” I admitted, and I didn’t have to fake the relief in my voice. “Mostly in good ways. The support from other creators, viewers, people sharing their own stories, it’s…amazing. But it’s also hard, realizing just how deep this problem runs.”

“And you brought backup tonight,” Callie observed. “Pack Wrecked, want to introduce yourselves?”

Reid leaned forward. “I’m Reid. We’ve been friends and collaborators with Kara for a while. When she asked if we’d be here tonight, the answer was ‘absolutely.’”

Theo introduced himself with his trademark cocky energy, though there was something simmering beneath the surface that made me tense.

“Theo. And for the record, we’re not here to speak for Kara or control her story.

We’re here because friends show up.” The slight emphasis on the word friends wasn’t missed by the rest of the pack and I only hoped that the chat didn’t catch it.

Malik followed, calm and even. “Malik. I have some background in mental health, so I’m especially interested in talking about support systems in crisis.”

Jace didn’t bother with embellishment. “Jace.”

Ash, last to go, deadpanned, “Ash. I do tech support and moral support, in that order.” I couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at my lips.

they seem so genuine

love the way they support without taking over

this is the content we need

healthy alpha energy

Callie kept things moving. “Let’s talk about support systems. Kara, you went through your crisis pretty much out in the open. How important was it, having people in your corner?”

“Essential,” I said, no hesitation. “For a long time, I thought strength meant handling everything alone. But with suppressant withdrawal, heat cycles, the fallout from the article…I couldn’t survive it by myself. I needed people who cared enough to help without expecting something back.”

“Reid, what does healthy Alpha support look like from your perspective?” Callie asked, switching her focus.

He took a second before answering. “It’s about following her lead. Offering help, but respecting autonomy. Being there, but not smothering. Our job isn’t to fix her problems. It’s to support her while she handles them, her way.”

THIS. this is how it should work

wish more alphas understood this

taking notes

Callie turned to Theo, question sharp. “Pack Wrecked has gotten some criticism for ‘enabling’ Kara, or supposedly benefiting from her struggles. Thoughts?”

Theo’s whole body went still. “If anyone thinks we’re getting off on watching someone we care about go through a medical crisis and career chaos, they need to check themselves. It’s been hard on all of us. But you don’t bail on someone just because it’s messy.”

“And the speculation about your relationships? There’s a lot of chatter online about pack dynamics, whether it’s romantic or platonic.”

The question made my ribs go tight, but Reid’s presence was another anchor.

“Our relationships are what they are,” I said, jumping in. “Labels aren’t what matters, not compared to respect and choice. What matters is that no one here has ever made me feel like I owe them for their support.”

“That’s the key,” Malik added. “Healthy support comes without strings. It isn’t transactional. You give, because you want someone to be okay.”

crying at how healthy this is

this is what pack should look like

showing my alpha friends this stream

representation matters

From there, we spun out into industry reform, how to tell protection from control, what healthy actually looks like in high-pressure spaces. The chat was wild but mostly positive, trolls drowned out by viewers who seemed almost desperate for proof that real community existed.

“Before we wrap up,” Callie said, “what’s next for you, Kara? Professionally or personally?”

I hesitated, but only for a second. “Professionally, I’m talking to platforms that actually value creator independence.

Personally…” I looked at the pack again, five pairs of eyes steady on me.

“I’m learning to build a life around choice instead of fear.

I’m learning how to accept help without losing myself, and how to trust people who’ve earned it. ”

“And for other creators dealing with the same stuff?”

“You’re not alone,” I said, locking eyes with the camera, willing the words out into the world.

“If someone’s pressuring you to hide who you are for career gain, if you’re dealing with industry abuse, if you’re afraid to speak up, you’re not alone.

There are people who will value you for the real you, not the mask. ”

When the stream ended, I felt like I’d finally surfaced for air. The reaction was overwhelmingly positive. The conversation had felt natural, honest. I’d managed to say everything I wanted to, and nothing I’d regret.

“That went really well,” Callie said, wrapping up our debrief. “You guys… whatever that is, it’s working. The care between you is obvious.”

She logged off. The pack started tearing down the camera setup, quiet in that companionable way that comes from a job well done.

I looked around at them and felt something settle down inside me.

“Thank you,” I said. “All of you. For making this feel possible.”

“Thank you for letting us be part of it,” Reid replied. “For trusting us, out loud.”

“We make a good team,” Theo said, that annoying, irresistible grin back in place.

“We really do,” I agreed.

For the first time, optimism tasted like something I could hold onto. Whatever storm came next, I knew we could face it as a pack.

Turns out, that was enough.