Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Callie
I settled into the Bond Pack house with my streaming setup, grateful when Zia agreed to help with the persistent audio issues plaguing my temporary studio.
The week-long trial run with the pack would be overwhelming enough without technical difficulties sabotaging my content.
My subscriber count had been fluctuating wildly since the heat incident went viral, and I couldn't afford to lose viewers because my audio sounded like I was broadcasting from inside a garbage disposal.
"Be there in twenty," Zia had said when I'd called, her voice carrying that familiar note of exasperated affection that meant she was already mentally cataloguing everything I'd probably done wrong.
And exactly twenty minutes later, because Zia was pathologically punctual in the way only people who'd learned to survive on precision could be, she knocked on the door with her characteristic three sharp raps.
Ghost answered before I could get there, moving with that silent grace that still made my hindbrain do little flips of appreciation.
I watched from the hallway as my best friend stood on the threshold, purple hair twisted into its characteristic chaotic bun secured with what looked like a mechanical pencil, glasses slightly askew from the weight of her equipment bags, carrying three professional cases like she was moving in permanently.
"Nice to meet you," she said to Ghost, completely unbothered by his silent, imposing presence that probably made most non alphas stammer and retreat.
Her voice held that same steady confidence she brought to every technical crisis.
"I'm Zia. Here to make Callie's streams not sound like garbage, which, judging by what I heard in her last VOD, is going to require actual miracles. "
Ghost blinked, clearly unused to Omegas who didn't react to his Alpha presence at all, no flutter of heartbeat, no subtle shift in posture, no unconscious submission signals.
His dark eyes studied her with genuine curiosity as he stepped aside, and Zia marched past him like she owned the place, already scanning the room with the professional interest of someone mentally cataloguing every acoustic flaw and electrical hazard.
"Jesus, Cal, what did you do to these levels?
" She dropped her cases near my makeshift setup with practiced efficiency, immediately pulling out her laptop and a tangle of cables that somehow made perfect sense to her.
"It sounds like you're broadcasting from inside a tin can having an existential crisis while drowning in a fish tank. "
"I tried following a YouTube tutorial," I admitted, moving to hug her briefly before she got completely lost in the technical details. She felt exactly the same in my arms. Solid. Reliable.
"Never follow YouTube tutorials for audio engineering.
You know this." Her fingers were already flying across her laptop, pulling up various programs with intimidating waveforms and equalizer displays I couldn't begin to interpret.
"Remember when you tried to fix your first mic setup following some dude-bro's advice?
You sounded like you were streaming from the bottom of a well filled with cotton balls and regret. "
"That was one time," I protested, though we both knew I had a history of technical disasters.
"One time that lost you three thousand subscribers before I could emergency-fix it remotely while you cried at me through Discord.
" She glanced up from her laptop, noticed the five Alphas who'd gradually gathered in the doorway like curious cats, drawn by the presence of a stranger in their carefully maintained territory.
"Oh good, an audience. I love performing audio engineering for people who think a good microphone means expensive. Super thrilling content."
Crash bounced forward first, naturally, his current purple and neon green hair catching the afternoon light streaming through the windows. "You're the friend who threatened to destroy our audio quality if we hurt Cal!"
"Still might," Zia said without looking up from her equipment, sorting through cables with the kind of methodical precision that had made her legendary in our college's media department.
"Depends on how this week's actually going.
Cal, you good? And I mean actually good, not 'performing good for the audience' good. "
The question was casual to anyone listening, but I heard the layers underneath, the code we'd developed over years of friendship. Was I safe? Was I happy? Did I need extraction? Did she need to create a distraction while I grabbed my important stuff and ran?
"I'm good," I assured her, surprised to realize I meant it completely. "Just trying to figure out how to maintain my streaming schedule while..." I gestured vaguely at the house, the pack, the general situation that my life had become, "...while navigating all this."
"While playing house with five Alphas who accidentally turned you into a viral sensation?
" She finally looked up properly, studying each of them with the same analytical gaze she used on waveforms and frequency responses.
"Interesting pack dynamic. Very coordinated for what should theoretically be a new configuration. "
Nova stepped forward, ever the diplomat, his business-casual appearance somehow making him look more intimidating rather than less. "We've been together for several years. Callie's the newest addition to our established pack structure."
"Hmm." Zia pulled out professional-grade cables, sorting them with practiced efficiency that spoke of hundreds of similar house calls.
"That explains the house setup. Very 'established pack seeks compatible Omega' energy.
Did you guys actually have a spreadsheet for desired Omega characteristics, or just a vision board? "
"I had a presentation," Nova admitted with the slightly embarrassed tone of someone who knew how that sounded, which made me choke on air and start coughing.
"Of course you did." Zia plugged in various devices, the familiar sight of her technical competence soothing something anxious in my chest. "Cal, remember when we first met? You hired me to fix the audio for that absolute disaster of a charity stream in college."
"The one where the previous sound guy quit mid-stream because the equipment was literally smoking?
" I laughed, settling into the familiar rhythm of our friendship like putting on comfortable clothes.
"You just showed up with your fox avatar and started fixing things in real-time while roasting everyone in chat. "
"Still my most-viewed clip to this day," she said proudly, adjusting something that immediately made my test recording sound cleaner and more professional. "Cozy fox explains why your audio setup is trying to murder itself while fixing it live. Launched my whole streaming career."
Milo had disappeared at some point and returned with snacks, because of course he had, the man seemed physically incapable of letting anyone work without proper nutrition.
He set down a tray of perfectly arranged fruit, artisanal crackers, and what looked like homemade energy balls near Zia's workspace, the presentation magazine-worthy despite being casual.
"You're the cooking one," she identified him without looking up, grabbing a handful of the energy balls and popping one into her mouth. "Cal sent me your breakfast stream where you made twelve different types of eggs. Weirdly soothing content, actually."
"Thank you?" Milo seemed genuinely unsure whether it was a compliment, his hazel eyes uncertain.
"It's a compliment," I assured him quickly. "Zia's highest praise is 'weirdly soothing.' Trust me, I've been trying to earn that rating for years."
"A large part of my content is cozy sounds for anxious people," Zia explained, adjusting another setting that made my voice sound warm and clear instead of tinny and distant.
"Started as audio engineering tutorials with my fox avatar explaining basic concepts, evolved into 'gentle chaos for people who need their parasocial big sister to explain why their setup is trying to kill them.
' Cal's been my best advertising. Every time she mentions me on stream, I get about a thousand new followers who want someone to fix their disasters while being nice about it. "
"You never told me you tracked those specific metrics," I accused, though I was secretly pleased to know I'd been helping her career.
"I track everything that matters. Remember how I knew you were here before you told me?
" She gestured to her phone, and I had a vague memory of talking to her while I was at a more cognizant part of the heat.
Sensing my hesitation, she added quickly, "Location sharing, remember?
You gave me permission two years ago when you got lost at that convention in Phoenix—"
"The convention center was supposedly a circle! The maps were lying propaganda!" I protested, remembering the humiliation of calling her in tears from what turned out to be the food court.
"The convention center was a square, Cal. A basic, elementary geometric square. You just can't read maps to save your life, and you panic-walk in random directions instead of asking for help."
Blitz laughed, warm and genuine, the sound filling the room with infectious energy. "She got lost trying to find our bathroom yesterday morning. It's directly across from her bedroom door. Like, straight across."
"Traitor," I muttered, but I was smiling, warmth spreading through my chest. This felt beautifully normal, like the past few days of intensity and overwhelming new experiences could coexist with my regular life instead of consuming it entirely.
"So," Zia said, finishing her adjustments with a satisfied flourish, "test it now. Say something in your normal streaming voice."