Page 5 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

Kara

I was half-dead on the bathroom floor, clutching my stomach and wondering if I’d ever bother getting up, when someone banged on the door.

Not even a gentle knock, but a sharp, insistent sound that felt personal, somehow.

The heat and cold kept cycling through me, my skin crawling like it wanted to escape, muscles firing off random spasms every time I thought I might have caught a break.

Every breath felt too hot, like I was inhaling my own ruin.

There was no hiding how wrecked I was; I’d been here for hours, way too destroyed to even pretend trying for the bed after the last time I puked my guts out.

That knock, though. It made my heart jolt, half hope, half dread, all regret.

The suppressants had to be here early, finally.

There wasn’t room in me for dignity; I just about tore the towel bar out of the wall getting upright, then made the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror.

Fantastic. I looked like someone’s leftovers after a street fight.

Eyes sunken and rimmed dark, sweat slicked across dirty, uneven skin, hair sticking to my skull.

Barely recognizable as human, let alone myself.

Another knock. Louder this time. I guess patience is not in the delivery guy starter pack.

Moving to the door was hell, each step feeling more like a dare than a movement.

If I didn’t get this delivery, I might as well set the place on fire and start over.

I needed the box. I needed something, anything, to make the shakes stop, to stop smelling everything, to not feel like my own life was slipping through the cracks under my feet.

"Coming," I rasped, even though my voice shredded itself on the way out. "Please be the suppressants," I muttered to myself.

“She sounds like she’s dying.” Theo’s voice was all too familiar, making me stop just as I reached for the lock. Yeah. Of course, I wasn’t that lucky.

They didn’t really come here did they?

“Stop. Kicking in her door is crossing a line,” Malik’s voice sounded quietly from the other side.

“Won’t matter if she crashes permanently.” Ash’s blunt words sent a chill down my spine.

I started to sink to the floor again because if they saw me like this, I was done. No amount of killcams or sponsors could erase it, I knew it would live in their memories for a long ass time, just like it would in my own.

Reid must have heard something because an alpha growl followed, “Open the door. Now, Kara.”

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and the lock might as well have been a puzzle box, but I got it open.

My body obeying before my pride could stop it.

Instead of a delivery on the other side, there they were, five Alphas lined up like an intimidation campaign.

Pack Wrecked, looking like an ad for protein powder, crowding my sad little hallway.

Reid in front, then Malik, Theo, Jace, and Ash, every single one staring at me like they’d just found a dead rat in their morning oatmeal.

I tried to summon some venom, to say anything, but I was nothing except Omega scent and sweat and shame.

Reid looked me up and down, like he was running the numbers. "Fuck, Quinn."

Malik, arms crossed as though to stop himself from reaching out, just murmured, "It's worse than I thought."

Their reactions set me off and I tried to slam the door in their faces, but of course Reid caught the edge one-handed, like it was nothing. No way was I going to muscle past an Alpha, not like this. Not ever.

"Get out," I spat, retreating into my own apartment as they piled inside like it was nothing, "I don’t need you. Or your fake concern. Or whatever stunt this is. I should have never asked you to come.”

I hated that I’d had hope and now it was gone. I hated that despite everything I'd said about them on stream, despite months of antagonistic rivalry, despite the fact that being near me right now could trigger their own ruts, they were here.

Letting five Alphas into my space while I was in this state went against every survival instinct I'd developed. But the alternative was standing in my doorway having this conversation where any of my neighbors could see and potentially record it.

Reid just shut the door behind them, the sound weirdly final. Five Alphas in my tiny apartment, their scents slamming into me with no hesitation. Cedar, citrus, sharp power, thick in the air and pressing.

My knees nearly buckled, but I locked them. I wasn’t going down in front of them. All I could do was let them see me like this and hope it wouldn’t kill me.

They moved into my apartment with careful coordination, like they'd discussed strategy beforehand.

Malik headed straight for my kitchen, pulling protein bars and electrolyte drinks from his bag.

Ash disappeared toward my gaming setup, probably doing damage control I hadn't even thought of.

Jace positioned himself near the windows, blocking any potential sight lines from outside.

Theo started pacing, nervous energy radiating off him in waves.

"We’re not here to gloat," Reid said, using that calm, steady voice that always got under my skin. He’d ordered me off my own stream with it."We need to talk about what happened," he said. "And what happens next."

"What happens next is my career is over." I stumbled and fell onto my couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. "You saw the hashtag. Three sponsors already dropped me. The platform is reviewing my partnership. I'm done."

"You're not done." Reid sat on the opposite end of the couch, carefully maintaining space between us. "This is bad, yeah. But it's not unsalvageable."

Malik appeared with a protein bar and a bottle of sports drink. "Eat," he said, his therapist voice brooking no argument. "Your blood sugar is probably crashing on top of everything else."

"Our manager had an idea," Theo said, barely able to keep the words from tumbling over each other. "A way to fix things for both sides."

"Both?" I snorted, except it came out more like a dying animal than a laugh. "You didn’t lose your whole career on camera."

Ash, quietly from the back, said, "Your heat crash affected the whole team. The net’s obsessed with it. There’s a large portion of people saying that we triggered you somehow. Sponsors are worried."

The idea that Pack Wrecked was being blamed was ridiculous, of course, before I could respond my vision flickered, going gray at the edges. I gripped the desk so hard I thought it might shatter. The shakes were threatening to become a full-blown event.

"Quinn…Kara… " Reid stepped toward me, then stopped when I flinched. "Sit down before you pass out."

"I’m fine," I managed, which was a lie so obvious even I wanted to wince. "Just say what you want. Get it over with. Leave."

They traded looks, probably shocked I wasn’t rolling over for them. Finally, Reid said, "PR plan. From management. For all of us."

"What kind of plan?" Suspicion came out sharp; I didn’t have energy to sugarcoat.

"Fake pack bond," Reid answered. No hesitation.

I blinked. "A what?"

Theo jumped in. "You move in with us. We make it look real, go public with a fake pack relationship. Redemption, for everyone."

"You’re all out of your minds," I whispered, and I meant it. Or maybe I was the crazy one for thinking I’d heard right.

Jace, who’d barely said a word, actually had my attention. "People saw your heat hit on stream. They already believe the story, we just take control. Spin it."

"You want me to play your pack Omega? Dress up as your pet for content?" I almost choked.

"We want to help," Malik said, and oddly enough, it didn’t sound completely manufactured.

The laugh that escaped me then was ugly, bordering on hysterical. "So you get to swoop in, save the ruined Omega, and rack up sponsors while you’re at it. Great."

"It’s not like that–" Reid started, but I cut him off.

"Isn’t it? Five Alphas, storming in to rescue the helpless Omega who can’t control herself. You really think that makes you look better?"

"Better than the alternative," Ash replied, voice flat. "You disappear for violating TOS. We get blamed for triggering it."

The nausea crested again, and their presence in my space wasn’t helping. Reid reached toward me and I recoiled, slamming myself back against the wall.

"Don’t touch me," I hissed, hands balled, jaw clenched. Everything in me was on fire. Their nearness made it worse, not better.

He didn’t close the distance, just raised his hands like he was dealing with a cornered animal. "You’re sick," he said. Not a question, not even really a challenge. Just a fact. "This isn’t just a heat crash."

I focused on a spot over his shoulder. "I said I’m fine."

He wasn’t buying it. "You’re shaking, sweating, pupils the size of quarters." He lowered his voice, pitched it so only I could hear. "Suppressant withdrawal."

No one spoke. They didn’t need to. My silence gave it all away.

"How long?" Malik asked, and I could tell he was about to launch into some lecture if I gave him the chance.

But Reid answered first. "Eight years. She said it during the crash."

Malik whistled, low. "Eight years on high-grade suppressants. And you’re still standing?"

I wanted to tell him to back off, but the fire in my bones was making it impossible to concentrate. "It’s my life," I spat. "I had to burn myself out to get respect. Otherwise, I’d just be someone’s jerk off material bouncing on a yoga ball while pretending I didn’t know how to play the game."

No one argued. We’d all seen the numbers, the constant grind of Omega streamers who got nothing but filth and innuendo until every bit of work they’d done was buried under a joke.

Jace cleared his throat. "The suppressants… they were black market, military-grade,weren’t they?"

I stared, caught flat-footed for once.

He gave a faint, rueful shrug. "My sister did it too. Except she was in the military. Withdrawal almost killed her."

By then, my body was done pretending. The nausea hit like a sucker punch, and I practically collapsed over the trash can. Dry heaves, just pure humiliation, nothing left in me but the ugly tremors.

When I could finally look up, they all stared, but Reid looked like he was prepping for something worse.

"This isn’t just PR, Quinn," he said, and for once it sounded like he meant it. "You need medical help."

"I have it covered," I lied, even though the words barely held together. "Real suppressants get here tomorrow."

All five faces went pale.

"You can’t," Malik snapped. "Not after a crash like this. You’ll shut your system down."

"And then what?" My voice broke at the edges, shameful. "Lean into it? Turn myself into everyone’s favorite Omega, beg for scraps as long as I play the part?"

My legs stopped cooperating, and I slid to the floor, letting the wall hold me up. My vision was shot, but I could see them well enough. In fact, they were the only things I could see, like we were on a video call and they’d blurred their backgrounds, except this was real life.

"Our offer is still open," Reid said. He crouched down to my level, careful not to touch. "Move in. Go through the withdrawal with us. We feed the press a story about a friendly pack helping you figure yourself out. No details. Just manageable."

"And you get…?" I couldn’t keep up the front.

"Content," Theo said, grinning. "Rivals-to-packmates? Chat would go insane."

"Brand rescue," Ash added. "We stop being the villains. You get to come back as a survivor, not a tragedy."

Malik shrugged, matter-of-fact. "It’s the least we can do."

But Reid… he just looked at me, eyes steady and weirdly gentle. "Six months. If you want out after, you walk. No tricks."

I studied them. Five Alphas I’d spent years refusing to bend for, tried to step around at every turn. Now they were the only option on the table, and somehow that was the worst part.

"Keep your story," I said, and I laughed, except it sounded like a sob. "I don’t need a rescue. Or a fake pack. Or to be your pet PR project."

Reid nodded, unfazed. "You can call if you change your mind."

They left, one at a time, each one giving me a last glance like they expected me to disappear if they turned away. Reid stayed in the doorway an extra beat.

"For what it’s worth, Quinn, none of us ever saw you as just your designation. You were always the best at what you do."

That hit harder than anything else tonight. Like he’d found the one weak spot and rammed it with both fists.

"That’s why we’re here," he said, softer. "Not for a label. For you. Because you don’t deserve to get destroyed by this industry."

I threw a shoe at the door, making it shut harder than I intended, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was left with my sweat-soaked skin, a career in ruins, and five Alphas’ words stuck in my mind like glass.

The worst part? I believed him. And knowing that scared me more than anything else. The question that haunted me though was whether or not I could trust them?