Page 21 of Heat Clickbait
Callie
I finally checked my phone when the heat fog lifted enough for coherent thought. The screen lit up with a cascade of notifications that made my stomach drop. Among the chaos of trending hashtags and viral clips, Zia's messages stood out like neon warnings.
Zia (Friday 8:47 PM): Saw the StreamCon drama. You okay?
Zia (Friday 11:23 PM): Callie, seriously, answer your phone
Zia (Saturday 9:15 AM): I know you're probably busy but just let me know you're alive
Zia (Saturday 4:32 PM): If I don't hear from you in 2 hours I'm filing a missing person report
Zia (Saturday 6:45 PM): I'm not kidding about the police
Guilt twisted through my chest, sharp enough to cut through the pleasant haze of post-heat contentment. Zia had been worried sick while I'd been... well.
"Everything okay?" Milo asked from the kitchen annex, where he was preparing what smelled like cinnamon rolls. His voice carried that particular note of concern that meant he'd already sensed my emotional shift through our bond.
"I forgot about Zia." The admission came out small, ashamed. "She's been trying to reach me since Friday."
Ghost looked up from his tablet, tilting his head in question.
"My friend. The sound engineer." I was already hitting her contact, anxiety building as the phone rang. "She's probably?—"
"Callie!" Zia's voice exploded through the speaker, relief and anger tangled together. "Jesus fucking Christ, I was literally filling out a missing person report! Do you have any idea how worried?—"
"I'm sorry." The words tumbled out in a rush. "I'm so sorry, Z. Everything happened so fast and then I couldn't think straight and?—"
"Are you safe?" Her tone shifted immediately from anger to concern, and this was why I loved her. Priorities always in the right place.
"Yes. I'm safe."
"Are you... okay? I saw the footage. Everyone saw the footage." A pause, then softer: "That looked intense, Cal."
I glanced around the nest at five Alphas who were pretending not to eavesdrop while absolutely eavesdropping. Nova had even set down his phone to focus entirely on my half of the conversation.
"It was intense," I admitted, not sure how to explain that intense didn't even begin to cover what had happened. "But I'm okay. Better than okay, actually."
"You sure? Because I can come get you. I don't care how many Alphas are there, I'll extract you if you need it."
The mental image of Zia, five-foot-nothing with purple hair and glasses, facing down my pack made me laugh despite everything. "I don't need extraction. I'm... processing. But I'm good."
"Processing." She let the word hang between us, not pushing but not letting me off easy either. "Do you need anything? Your apartment? Work stuff? I can handle whatever."
"I..." I hesitated, realizing I hadn't even thought about my apartment, my normal life, anything beyond this nest and these men. "Maybe some clothes? And my good streaming mic if you can grab it?"
"Already packed a bag," she said, and of course she had. "Been sitting by my door since Saturday morning. Just needed to know where to bring it."
Tears pricked at my eyes. While the internet dissected my every expression, while strangers speculated about my choices, Zia had just... packed a bag and waited.
"I'll send you the address," I managed around the lump in my throat.
"Don't need it. Already traced your phone." At my startled noise, she added, "What? You gave me your location permissions two years ago for that convention where you got lost. You never revoked them."
"That's either really creepy or really sweet."
"It's both. I contain multitudes." Her voice gentled. "You want to talk about it? The whole... true mate thing everyone's screaming about?"
I drew my knees up to my chest, very aware of how Nova's shirt hung loose on my frame, how I was surrounded by evidence of what had happened. "Not yet. I'm still figuring out what it even is."
