Chapter 46
THEO
Sunlight streams through the window, waking me from what feels like the deepest sleep I’ve ever had. My body aches, telling the whole story of the last three days. I stretch, feeling the pleasant burn in muscles I didn’t even know I had.
Beside me, Victor sleeps peacefully, his massive frame sprawled across most of the bed. Even in sleep, he looks powerful—but there’s a vulnerability to him now that wasn’t there before the Hunt began. The past three days broke something open in him, something beautiful and raw.
His phone vibrates on the nightstand, then again, and again. After the fifth consecutive buzz, Victor stirs, reaching blindly for it with a groan.
“What?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
I watch his face transform—relaxation giving way to confusion, then shock, then rage. He sits bolt upright, all traces of sleep vanished.
“What do you mean you’re pulling your sponsorship?” Victor’s voice is dangerously quiet. “I don’t understand what you’re—”
He falls silent, listening. The color drains from his face.
“Pictures? What fucking pictures?”
Victor throws the covers off and stands, naked and vibrating with tension. He fumbles with his phone, pulling up something that makes him freeze. “Fuck. FUCK!”
He turns the screen toward me. My stomach drops. There, in high definition, is Victor—bending me over and entering me from behind in the orgy room, his face clearly visible. The photo is clearly from the Hunt.
His phone rings again. Victor answers, his jaw clenched so tight I can see a muscle jumping.
“Marco, slow down. What are you saying about the fighters?”
Another pause. More color leaches from Victor’s face.
“Jenkins AND Alvarez? Both of them?”
When he hangs up, Victor immediately dials another number, pacing like a caged animal.
“Xavier,” he growls when the call connects. “Who the FUCK leaked images from the Hunt? Your security was supposed to be impenetrable!”
I watch Victor’s face harden as he listens to Xavier’s response.
“One of the hunters? You’re certain?” Victor paces, his free hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. “That should have been impossible.”
Xavier must be apologizing because Victor’s expression shifts slightly—still furious but with a hint of resignation creeping in.
“No, I understand your security protocols were in place.” Victor’s voice drops lower. “I know who it was.”
When he hangs up, Victor throws his phone onto the bed and rubs his hands over his face.
“It was Marcus,” he says flatly. “Has to be. Reid.”
I sit up, pulling the sheet around my waist. “Marcus? Why would he—”
“Because I saw him with you at Eclipse. When you kissed him.” Victor’s eyes meet mine, no accusation in them, just a statement of fact. “He was hunting you during the actual Hunt, too. Probably pissed he didn’t get to you first.”
Victor sits heavily on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders slumped. For a moment, I expect him to explode—the Victor I first met would have destroyed something by now. Instead, he lets out a long breath.
“You know what’s fucked up?” he says quietly. “Part of me is almost... relieved.”
I slide closer to him, saying nothing.
“This was always going to happen, Theo. Maybe I should have just stopped dragging my feet and come out on my own terms instead of being forced out like this.”
His hand finds mine on the bed, fingers intertwining automatically.
“It’s okay,” he continues, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or me. “It was going to happen at some point.”
I pick up Victor’s phone from the bed and see notifications flooding in. My stomach drops as I read the headlines scrolling across his screen:
“Fighter Owner’s Secret Relationship Exposed.”
“Kaine’s Gay Romance Rocks Fighting World.”
“Underground Fight Club Owner Caught in Compromising Position with Nightclub Mogul.”
“Victor, it’s everywhere,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
He takes the phone from my hand, scrolling through with a tightening jaw. By 9 AM, the story has exploded across every sporting outlet and local news source in the city. I watch his face harden with each swipe.
“Fucking Dawson,” he mutters, eyes never leaving the screen. “This is exactly what he wanted.”
Victor’s phone rings constantly—sponsors, fighters, media. He answers some calls, ignores others. I sit beside him, unsure what to say. This is the scenario he’s feared for months—his private life splashed across headlines, his career threatened, his personal life exposed without his consent.
When his screen lights up with Marco’s name, Victor answers immediately.
“I know. I’ve seen them.” He listens, running a hand through his hair. “Tell me how bad.”
I can’t hear Marco’s response, but Victor’s expression tells me everything. Three sponsors already pulling out. Two fighters announcing their departure to Dawson’s gym.
“Call Ray. Emergency meeting in my office, thirty minutes.” Victor’s voice shifts into something I recognize—the voice of a man accustomed to fighting back when cornered. “We need to get ahead of this. NOW.”
He hangs up and turns to me, his expression a complex blend of resignation and determination.
“I’ve spent months afraid of this moment,” he says quietly. “And now it’s here.”
I watch Victor stand and begin gathering his clothes, his movements mechanical, like he’s on autopilot. This is the moment I’ve both hoped for and dreaded—the world knowing about us, but not on our terms. The fallout is everything Victor feared, and yet he seems strangely calm.
“I should go,” he says, pulling on his jeans. “Marco and the team are waiting.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Part of me wonders if this is it—if the pressure will finally break whatever we’ve built together.
Victor pauses, one arm in his shirt sleeve. He looks at me, really looks at me, and the intensity in his eyes pins me to the spot.
“Theo,” he says, abandoning his shirt and walking back to the bed. He kneels in front of me, taking both my hands in his.
“I’ve spent months afraid of this exact moment. I’ve imagined losing everything—my gym, my fighters, my reputation.” His thumbs trace circles on my palms. “But now that it’s happening, all I keep thinking is—at least I still have you.”
My heart pounds as Victor brings my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my fingertips.
“I love you,” he says simply, the words I’ve waited so long to hear. “I’m in love with you, Theo Winters. And nothing—not this scandal, not Dawson, not losing every fucking sponsor I have—nothing will ever change that.”
His voice cracks slightly, but his eyes never leave mine.
“I should have said it months ago. I should have shouted it from the goddamn rooftops.”
I cup his face in my hands, feeling the stubble against my palms.
Three simple words. I’ve heard them before from others—said them too, sometimes even meaning them in the moment. But Victor saying I love you steals my breath and makes my chest ache with something so intense it borders on pain.
“Say it again,” I whisper, needing to be sure I didn’t imagine it.
“I love you,” Victor repeats, his voice stronger now. “And I’m not hiding anymore.”
Those words break something open inside me—a dam I built years ago after too many temporary connections and surface-level affairs. Emotion floods through me, raw and overwhelming.
“I love you too,” I manage, my voice cracking embarrassingly. “God, Victor, I love you so much.”
He pulls me against his chest, and I can feel his heart hammering against mine. We kiss—not the desperate, hungry kisses we’ve shared countless times before, but something gentler. Softer. His lips brush mine with a tenderness that makes my eyes sting.
When we part, I rest my forehead against his. “Never thought three words could wreck me like this.”
Victor’s thumb traces my cheekbone. “Me neither.”
For a moment, we just breathe together, the storm raging outside our bubble momentarily forgotten. Then his phone vibrates again, pulling us back to reality.
I take his face in my hands, meeting his eyes. “Go. Do what you need to do. Damage control, save what you can.”
“And us?” The vulnerability in his question nearly undoes me.
“I’ll be right here,” I promise. “By your side through whatever comes next. We can watch it all burn around us if it comes to that. Forever.”
Victor kisses me one more time before standing up, the fighter’s resolve returning to his expression. “Forever,” he echoes, the word a vow between us.