Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Callie
Comments flooded the chat so fast the screen became a blur of colors and emojis, questions and accusations, hearts and pitchforks in equal measure.
The notification sounds were like digital rainfall, pinging and chiming in an endless cascade that Ghost had to manually mute before it drove us all insane.
He'd set up filters to catch the worst of it, the slurs, the death threats, the particularly graphic speculation about our sex life, but even the sanitized stream of consciousness was overwhelming.
FINALLY THE TRUTH
sellout omega
THIS IS EVERYTHING
fake fake fake
callie please be happy
BIOLOGY ISN'T DESTINY
I've been waiting for this since the convention clip
mama we made it to the drama
"So," I said, settling back more firmly against Nova's chest because if we were doing this, we were doing it honestly.
No pretense of professional distance, no carefully calculated camera angles to hide the possessive way his hand rested on my hip.
The familiar weight of him behind me was grounding, his scent of aged whiskey and leather-bound books mixing with the vanilla-tinged anxiety rolling off me in waves.
"Let's address the obvious. Yes, we scent-matched.
Yes, I went into heat. Yes, we spent three days in a nest together. No, we're not fully bonded."
The chat exploded like a digital bomb had gone off.
Numbers flashed across Ghost's monitoring screen, heart rate spikes in real-time engagement, comment velocity hitting the red zone, clips being made and shared faster than the algorithm could track them.
His filters probably prevented the stream from crashing entirely under the sheer volume of simultaneous users losing their collective minds.
THE NEST ADMISSION
three days holy shit
my sexuality is having a crisis
"Yet," Crash added helpfully from his position cross-legged on the floor, bouncing slightly as he spoke and earning himself a look from Nova that could have frozen hell itself.
His purple and neon green hair caught the ring lights as he grinned unrepentantly at the camera.
"What? We're being honest, right? That's the whole point of this emotional strip-tease we're doing for the internet. "
"Honest is one thing," Nova murmured, his cultured British accent carrying a warning edge, but his arm tightened around my waist in a gesture so possessive and protective that it sent a fresh wave of comments cascading down the screen. "Oversharing is quite another."
THE WAY HE'S HOLDING HER
nova daddy energy confirmed and I'm here for it
Did crash just say YET??? I need to lie down
emotional strip-tease I'M CRYING
I could feel the heat of Nova's palm through my oversized band tee, fingers splayed wide across my ribs like he was anchoring me to him, to this moment, to the choice we were making to bare ourselves to strangers.
My bubblegum pink hair caught the light as I leaned forward slightly, addressing the camera with the same energy I brought to my regular streams but dialed up to match the gravity of what we were revealing.
"The thing is," I continued, trying to find words for something that defied easy explanation, something that lived in the space between instinct and intention, "what happened between us wasn't planned.
It wasn't scripted. It definitely isn’t fake and wasn't a marketing stunt, despite what certain people are suggesting.
" I popped my gum for emphasis, the sharp crack cutting through the tension.
"Trust me, if we were going to script a publicity stunt, it wouldn't have involved me having a complete biological meltdown in front of five Alphas I barely knew. "
"Rex Hamilton can eat shit," Blitz said cheerfully from where he was doing casual bicep curls with a twenty-pound weight, because apparently even during life-changing emotional revelations, he couldn't sit still.
His green eyes sparkled with mischief as Ghost actually had to manually override his own filters to let that particular sentiment through to the chat.
DRAG HIM KING
rex hamilton found dead in a ditch
Finally someone said it
blitz really said eat shit on main
THE CASUAL WORKOUT WHILE DRAGGING PEOPLE
"The truth is messier than any narrative people want to create," I said, watching the viewer count climb past 75,000 with a mixture of exhilaration and terror.
Each new viewer was another person witnessing us at our most vulnerable, another opinion forming in real-time about choices that were ours to make.
"Social media wants everything in neat little boxes.
Fake or real. Planned or spontaneous. Choice or biology. But life doesn't work that way."
"Real life is complicated," Milo agreed, his warm honey and cinnamon scent mixing with the nervous energy filling the room.
He was fidgeting with one of his sourdough starters, the one he'd named Sofia after his ex from culinary school, his hazel eyes soft with something that made my chest tight.
"Real emotions are complicated. But then you walked into that convention room smelling like everything we never knew we were missing," he finished softly, and the chat went absolutely insane.
I'M CRYING
milo the romantic was not on my bingo card
WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN
sir this is a wendy's but also I'm sobbing
everything we never knew we were missing I CANNOT
My phone buzzed against my thigh where it was tucked into my shorts pocket, Michelle's texts flooding in.
Viewer count at 300K. Every platform picking this up. Trending worldwide. Stories going viral. Clips everywhere. Stay authentic, but remember legal exists for a reason. Also maybe don't let Blitz say 'eat shit' again?
"People keep asking if this is real," Nova said, his business voice cutting through the chaos with surgical precision, each word carefully chosen and delivered with the kind of authority that came from years of high-stakes negotiations.
"As if there's a binary between biological compatibility and conscious choice.
As if scent-matching means we're slaves to our hormones, or choosing each other means the biology doesn't matter. "
His fingers tapped once against my hip, a subtle gesture that I'd learned meant he was shifting into lawyer mode, ready to dismantle arguments with logic and precision.
"Both things are true," Ghost said quietly from behind his setup, and the fact that he was speaking on stream, actually using his voice instead of typing in chat or communicating through looks, made the comment section lose their collective minds.
GHOST SPEAKS
he talked! He actually talked!
His voice???? Sir?????
I would die for this man's vocal cords
ghost really said two words and I'm ready to propose
"We scent-matched," I said, taking control of the narrative again before the chat could spiral too far into thirst for Ghost's gravel-and-smoke voice.
"That's biology. Pheromones and compatibility and all that scientific stuff that happens whether we want it to or not.
We also chose to explore what that meant.
That's consciousness. Free will. Decision-making.
" I held up my hands, gesturing as I spoke, my chipped neon pink manicure catching the light.
"I went into heat. Biology. They refused to permanently bond me during it, even though every instinct was screaming at them to claim me.
Choice. Do you see how it works? It's not one or the other. It's both, all the time, constantly."
A superchat donation popped up, a bright yellow banner across the screen with a question that made my stomach clench like someone had punched me.
What about your mom's interview with Channel 7? She says you're making her mistakes and setting back Omega rights by a decade.
The room went dead silent. I felt the shift through our partial bonds like a physical thing, Milo's protectiveness spiking sharp and sweet, Nova's immediate calculation of legal responses and damage control, Ghost's readiness to cut the stream if needed, Crash going still for the first time all day, Blitz's easy smile hardening into something dangerous.
The weight of their combined attention was like being wrapped in armor made of good intentions and barely leashed violence.
"My mother," I said carefully, each word measured and deliberate, "experienced trauma that shaped her entire life.
She went into heat publicly, on live television, without support or understanding, and was abandoned by people who should have protected her.
That was her story. Her experience. Her pain.
" I swallowed hard, tasting the metallic edge of anxiety. "This is mine."
"Our story includes support," Crash added, bouncing slightly in his seat, his nervous energy crackling through the air like electricity. "Like, aggressive amounts of support. Possibly too much support. Milo made seventeen different breakfast foods this morning because he was stress-baking again."
"Stress baking is a legitimate coping mechanism," Milo defended, but he was smiling, that megawatt grin that made his slightly crooked front tooth visible. "And everyone ate them, so clearly it was necessary."
"I had four different types of pancakes," Blitz added, patting his abs. "Worth every rep I'll have to do later."
The dynamic between us, natural and unforced and full of the kind of easy affection that couldn't be faked, seemed to calm some of the chaos in chat. The questions shifted from accusatory to curious, from demanding proof to asking for understanding.
How did you know it was real?
What happens next for you guys?
Are you happy?
This is better than any reality show
the way they all protect each other I'm soft