@BrittanyT: [MOD MESSAGE] Discussion of crew designation is a violation of channel rules. 10-minute timeout for offenders.
@BrittanyT: [MOD MESSAGE] We support safety here. #ProtectZ
The chat fractured.
The wall of thirst broke against a wall of policy. Brittany Thomas, the head mod, had engaged the macros. It wasn't just a timeout; it was a deluge.
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@PunkQueen: BOUNDARIES ARE PUNK. Say it louder.
@RiotFan1: Respect the engineer. #FoxTailRespect
@LocalCrew: Finally someone said it.
Nate looked like he’d swallowed a bug. "Right. Uh. Powerful message. Very powerful."
"Credits," Euan said. It was the first time he'd spoken. It sounded like a gavel banging. "Roll them."
The stream cut to black.
I ripped the headset off. The chest rig tangled, and I fought it, panic rising in my throat like bile. The room felt too small. The lemon scent was suffocating.
I grabbed my bag and bolted.
I didn't stop until I hit the green room, a small windowless box in the back of the studio. I slammed the door and put my back against it, sliding down until I hit the floor.
My hands were shaking so hard I couldn't unzip my hoodie. The adrenaline crash hit me like a physical blow, cold sweat, racing heart, thethump-thump-thumpof blood in my ears.
I did it. I said it.
But the words echoed in my head.Is she in heat? Show us the bite.
They wanted to consume me. Not the work. Me.
A shadow fell across the crack under the door.
Then, three distinct knocks.
"Z?"
Alfie.
"I'm—" My voice failed. I cleared my throat. "Door's unlocked."
The handle turned slowly.
He didn't come in.
He pushed the door open and sat down right on the threshold, facing into the room but keeping his boots in the hallway. He was wearing his black skinnies and a charity-shop tee that readDESTROY, but he looked... small. Contained.
His scent, blackberries and burnt sugar, rolled into the room. It wasn't manic. It was heavy, caramelized, warm. Why could I suddenly scent him? Why was my body reversing years of scent-blindness?
He didn't look at me. He looked at his hands, watching his thumbs trace over the Sharpie letters.
