Chapter 51 Victor
VICTOR
The gym I’d built with my bare hands isn’t just surviving—it’s fucking thriving.
One week after the photos leaked, I’m standing in my office doorway watching a scene I never imagined possible.
The mats are packed with fighters; more bodies than we’ve had in years.
Three newbies are wrapping their hands by the lockers, tattoos and rainbow wristbands visible as they laugh with Cruz.
“That’s the fourth call today,” Marco says, hanging up the phone on my desk. “Fighter from Cincinnati. Says he drove six hours after seeing your Instagram statement.”
“What Instagram statement?” I ask, frowning.
Marco grins. “The one Theo posted for you. Should probably check your own social media, boss.”
I pull out my phone and see it—a photo of me in the ring, looking fierce as hell, with a caption I definitely didn’t write: “Kaine’s Fight Club: Where your sexuality doesn’t matter as long as your right hook does. #FightProud.”
Fifty-seven thousand likes. Jesus Christ.
“We’re running out of lockers,” Jonah calls from across the gym, guiding a pair of women toward the equipment room. “And Micah needs help with the new class schedule.”
Through the window, I spot five more people waiting outside. Their faces are a mixture of nervousness and hope I recognize too well—people who’ve been turned away elsewhere, who’ve had doors slammed in their faces.
“Boss.” Ray approaches with his tablet. “We’ve had seventeen new memberships today alone. That’s more than we usually get in a month.”
“And three potential sponsors called,” Marco adds. “Smaller companies, but they’re offering better terms than MaxFit ever did.”
The door opens, and more fighters enter—a trans man with careful eyes who introduces himself as Diego, a lesbian couple who’ve trained together for five years but couldn’t find a gym that would accept them both, a bisexual heavyweight who left his previous club after years of hiding.
Diego has a koi fish on his shoulder—Cruz’s work, the design Cruz has been pushing on three different fighters, before someone finally said yes. Now half the gym has koi on them somewhere. Cruz calls it the season for koi.
“Victor.” Remy appears at my elbow. “We need to talk. The core team’s waiting in the office.”
Inside, they’re all there—Marco, Ray, Jonah, Micah, Cruz. Their faces are lit with something I haven’t seen before. Purpose.
“We’ve been talking,” Jonah starts. “This isn’t just a moment. It’s an opportunity.”
Cruz nods. “We should formalize it. Make it official.”
“Rebrand,” Micah says. “As Oath MMA Club.”
“With a mission statement,” Remy adds. “To make fighting a safe space for everyone who’s been pushed out elsewhere.”
I look at these men—my team, my family—and feel something click into place. The idea crystallizes in my mind like the perfect counter to a predictable attack.
“Oath MMA Club,” I repeat, testing the name. It feels right on my tongue. Strong. Meaningful. “Because we don’t break our oaths.”
Cruz grins. “Exactly, boss. We stand by our fighters no matter what.”
“We already have the logo concept,” Ray says, pulling up a design on his tablet. It’s our original emblem but reimagined—cleaner, bolder, with an understated rainbow element incorporated into the “O” of Oath. Subtle but unmistakable.
“It’s not just about sexuality,” Marco explains. “It’s about making a promise to every fighter who walks through those doors—that they can be themselves here. All of themselves.”
I nod, feeling something expanding in my chest. “Do it,” I tell Ray. “All of it. New signage, website, socials, and merchandise. And file whatever paperwork we need.”
“Already drafted,” Ray says, sliding a folder across the desk. “Just needs your signature.”
“And boss,” Jonah adds, “you should know—three more of Dawson’s fighters called this morning. Asked to join us, like Rodriguez did.”
My head snaps up. “Which ones?”
“Patel, Chen, and Harper.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “All of them? Dawson’s heavy hitters?”
“Chen’s brother is gay. And Harper’s daughter just came out as trans. Patel hasn’t said why—just that he wants out. They said Dawson’s been making comments they can’t stomach anymore.”
Cruz laughs. “Turns out making this place openly inclusive didn’t just keep our family together—it’s bringing us the talent Dawson thought he’d steal.”
“His plan backfired completely,” Remy adds. “I heard he’s down to half his roster compared to last month. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer asshole.”
I sign the papers with a steady hand, then look around at these men—my brothers, who stood beside me when everything I built was threatened.
“Well, gentlemen,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face, “looks like we’ve got a new club to build.”
The energy in the gym this morning is wild.
I’ve never seen the place this alive—fighters pushing harder, laughing louder, moving with a freedom that makes even the most grueling drills look like a celebration.
There’s something different about the air now, like we’ve all been breathing through filters our whole lives and suddenly realized we didn’t need them.
After training wraps, I’m watching Cruz work with Diego on his standup technique when the front door opens. Sunlight floods in, silhouetting Theo’s frame before he steps inside, designer sunglasses pushed up into his hair.
My heart does that thing—that ridiculous fucking skip that used to terrify me. Now I just let it happen.
“Hey,” he says, approaching with coffee in hand. “Brought reinforcements. Looks like you need it.”
Before he can hand me the cup, I pull him against me and kiss him. Not a quick peck, not a careful acknowledgment—a proper kiss, right in the middle of my gym with twenty fighters watching. His lips curve into a smile against mine.
When we break apart, I realize the gym has gone quiet. Then Cruz wolf-whistles from the mats, and just like that, everyone’s back to their routines. No big deal. Nothing to see.
“Well,” Theo says, eyes bright with surprise, “that’s new.”
“Not hiding anymore,” I tell him, taking the coffee. “No point. Also, turns out Dawson did us a favor.”
“How’s that?”
I gesture toward a group of fighters I recognize from promotional photos at Dawson’s gym. “Three more of his top competitors walked out this morning. After Rodriguez. They’re signing with us today.”
“Seriously?” Theo’s smile widens. “That’s fantastic.”
I nod toward the office where the paperwork is waiting. “Get this—we’re officially rebranding. Oath MMA Club. Making inclusion part of our core values.”
“Oath,” Theo repeats, testing the word. “I like it.”
“Because we don’t break our promises,” I say, surprising myself with how right it feels. “To each other or ourselves.”
I walk into my office, letting the door swing shut behind us. The noise of the gym fades to a distant hum as I drop into my chair, exhausted but exhilarated. Before Theo can perch on the edge of my desk like he usually does, I reach for his hand and pull him down into my lap.
He lands with a surprised laugh, his weight settling against me perfectly. My arms wrap around his waist, holding him close.
“What’s this about?” he asks, draping his arms over my shoulders.
I look up at him, at this man who’s turned my whole world upside down in the best possible way, and something catches in my throat.
“I need to thank you,” I say, my voice rougher than I expected.
His eyebrows lift. “For what?”
“For not giving up on me.” My hands tighten at his hips. “For pushing me to be myself when I was too fucking scared to even admit who I was. For staying even when I kept hiding you away like some dirty secret.”
Theo’s expression softens, but he stays quiet, letting me find the words.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I hid you.” I shake my head at my own stupidity. “I actually convinced myself I was protecting everything I’d built, when really I was just too terrified to let anyone see the real me.”
I reach up to touch his face, tracing my thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m gonna spend the rest of our lives making that up to you, baby. I swear.”
Theo leans into my touch, his eyes shining. “There’s nothing to make up for. We got here together.”
“Yeah, but you were ready from the start. I kept dragging my feet.”
“And now look at you,” he says with a smile, glancing toward the gym where my fighters—my family—are building something entirely new. “A revolutionary.”
I laugh, pulling him closer until our foreheads touch. “I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit. “But not of this. Never of you.”
Theo leans down and kisses me sweetly, his lips soft against mine. Unlike our usual heat and urgency, this kiss feels different—reverent, almost. His fingers thread through my hair, cradling my head like I’m something precious, not the brute most people see.
When he pulls back, his eyes hold mine with an intensity that still takes my breath away.
“I love you, Victor Kaine. Not just the parts you show everyone else—the fighter, the businessman, the tough guy. I love the man who cries in my arms. The one who’s scared sometimes but faces it anyway.
The one who’s building something revolutionary because it’s right, not because it’s easy. ”
His words sink into me, filling cracks I didn’t know were there. I’ve spent my whole life being hard—hard body, hard mind, hard heart. But with Theo, I’m learning that softness isn’t weakness. It’s a different kind of strength.
“I love you too,” I whisper against his lips. “More than I thought was possible.”
Theo smiles, tracing my jawline with his fingertips. “Who knew the big bad fight club owner was such a romantic?”
“Only with you, wildfire. Only with you.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I lose myself in it, in him. My hands slide under his shirt, not with intent but just to feel his warm skin, to ground myself in the reality that he’s here, he’s mine, we made it through the storm.
The door bursts open without warning.
“Boss! Holy shit, boss, you’re not gonna—” Micah freezes mid-sentence, eyes widening at the scene before him. “Oh. Sorry. I can come back—”
“It’s fine,” I say, though Theo makes no move to leave my lap. “What’s up?”
Micah’s grin returns, practically splitting his face. “Reese just called. They locked down the collection name. They’re calling it the Oath Collection.”
Theo laughs against my shoulder.
“They want to make us their flagship gym,” Micah continues, bouncing on his heels. “Spring catalog. National rollout. All of it.”
I exhale slowly. The same exhale I let go of in my office two days ago, except this time it has somewhere to land. “Dawson’s probably losing his fucking mind right now,” I say.
After Micah leaves, Theo turns to me. “See? Everything you were afraid of losing... you’re getting something better instead.”
I pull him closer, burying my face against his neck for a moment. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it,” he whispers, fingers threading through my hair. “You’re building something revolutionary here, Victor. Something that matters.”
“We are,” I correct him, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
His smile softens. “Partners?”
“In everything,” I promise, sealing it with a kiss.
The noise from the gym filters through the door—laughter, encouragement, the rhythmic thud of gloves hitting pads. My fighters. My family. Our future, transforming before our eyes into something I never imagined possible.
For the first time in my life, I’m not fighting against something. I’m fighting for something—for us, for all of them out there, for a world where no one has to hide who they are to do what they love.