Chapter 32 #2
I hear every word. Every smug little dig at my expense. I don’t fucking care.
They didn’t see the way she hunted me across that map like I did.
They didn’t feel the bite of her gun when she pinned me to the wall.
They don’t know what it means to be bested by someone you’d burn the world for.
I can feel the shift. What they don’t understand is, this wasn’t weakness.
This was worship. She earned that win like it was a crown, and I’ll never regret kneeling for her to claim it.
One of the reps starts talking about press timing, her voice bright and rehearsed, but it barely registers. Carter responds automatically, stepping into it like he always does, taking over the part of this that needs handling before it turns into chaos.
She hasn’t fully come down yet. I can see it in the way her eyes are a little too bright, like everything is still catching up to her in real time.
Her shoulder brushes mine for half a second, and I feel the slight hitch in her breath when it happens, like she’s suddenly aware again of everything this means beyond the win.
“You good?” I ask quietly.
She nods, but it takes her a second longer than it should. “Yeah. I just—” She trails off, like she doesn’t have the words for it yet.
“Yeah,” I say, because I get it.
Another rep calls her name, sharper this time, pulling her back into what comes next whether she’s ready for it or not. She exhales once, steadying herself, then looks between me and Carter like she’s grounding herself before stepping forward.
I take a half step back, giving her space without leaving it completely. “Go be famous pretty girl.”
Her lips twitch at that, just enough to show she heard me.
Then she turns, and the lights catch her again, and she steps right back into the center of it like she belongs there.
Before I manage to catch a moment of peace myself a camera gets shoved in my face. “Ghost—any comment on the loss?”
I glance over at her, lit up like fire. I lift my mic to my lips. “Only one person ever beats me like that,” I say. “And I’d let her do it again.”
The lobby is packed.
Cameras, commentators. Fans in merch and streamers comparing stats and screaming into their phones. It’s chaos—and I’m fine with chaos. I thrive in it.
But the second I catch sight of him, it’s like everything goes quiet in my head.
He’s standing across the lobby with fake smile plastered across his smug fucking face like he belongs here.
Carter’s talking to some Twitch PR girl behind me. Haven’s tucked at my side, half-hiding behind the hoodie she threw on after the match. I can feel her tense the second she sees Dylan too—her teeth digging into her bottom lip like she’s trying to keep it together.
He’s walking toward us. Again. Bad choice.
I see the way his eyes snap to Haven like he still fucking owns her. Like the bullshit he pulled—the lies, the manipulation, the smear campaigns—wasn’t enough to bury him ten feet under. That same condescending smirk he wore when he thought she was beneath him.
And suddenly, I’m done.
Weeks of pretending, of playing nice, of fucking behaving. Of swallowing down every possessive and violent instinct I’ve got.
All of it gone.
“—So this is the circus act, huh?”
I fucking snap.
I’m on him before Carter can say my name, before Haven can exhale, before Dylan can finish that smug little insult he thought would buy him a reaction.
He gets a goddamn reckoning instead. My fist collides with his face.
His head jerks back as blood sprays across the glossy tile. He staggers, wide-eyed. I grab him by the collar, slam him into the nearest wall, once, twice, until the drywall behind him cracks and it feels like the whole lobby stutters to a stop.
Carter yells and haven gasps. And I don’t fucking care.
“You think this is a joke?” I say, nose to nose with him. “You think you can just show up here, puff your chest, and pretend you didn’t spend your off time tearing her down?”
He groans, trying to shove me off. I punch him again and make his lip split.
“You humiliated her. Gaslit her, made her question everything she was. And now you’ve got the balls to walk in here and look at her like that?” I slam him back again, the wall shuddering behind him. “She’s mine now. Ours. And you—”
I grab a fistful of his shirt, dragging him forward. “You’re nothing.”
Security’s yelling now. “Hey—HEY! Break it up!”
My fist flies again. Right into his ribs this time and something cracks. He howls, collapsing forward—but I don’t let him fall.
“You wanna know what it’s like to be broken, Dylan?
” I growl. “You wanna feel what she felt? When you left her alone in that server to rot? When you let everyone think she was nothing but a fucking token girl?” I ram him back one more time, blood now smeared across my knuckles. His eyes are dazed, lips trembling.
“Now you know,” I hiss. “And next time you even think her name, I will end you. Career. Body. Everything.”
“Tate.” Carter again, behind me. “You need to stop.”
I don’t move. Not until Dylan coughs blood and looks at me like he knows he just got dragged through hell.
“I’m not you Carter,” I yell. “I don’t forgive. I don’t play fair and I don’t back the fuck down.”
I finally let him go. He crumples to the floor, groaning, arms around his ribs, blood dripping from his nose and jaw.
The crowd stares, frozen. Phones out. Voices whispering. “He deserved it,” someone mutters. “Did you hear what he said to her?”
“He fucking earned it,” another voice says.
One of the security guards finally steps in, kneeling next to Dylan but not even looking at me. “We’ll handle it. Just go.”
I turn and Carter’s standing with Haven. Her hands clenched into fists like she felt every blow through her own skin.
I meet her gaze. “You don’t touch what’s mine,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.
My knuckles are split and there’s blood on my hoodie.
Carter’s rubbing her back and his jaw is set tight. My hands are still shaking. I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or something else. Carter keeps close to her side, brushing her hand with his every few steps.
We hit the side hallway where the winner’s room is located, away from the crowd, down a corridor marked STAFF ONLY—and a security guy at the door nods and waves us in.
The second we step inside, it’s like crossing into another universe.
Bright lights, champagne on ice, a massive branded backdrop for interviews, gift bags stacked by the wall, two media reps hovering near the couch with clipboards and grins way too forced. One of them tries to speak—something about press timing—but Haven’s eyes flash and she lifts a single finger.
“One minute.”
The room goes still.
She turns around, standing in the center between me and Carter, the glow from the LED wall behind her catching the edge of her lashes, making her eyes shine gold.
“Thank you.”
Carter steps forward first. His hand catches her cheek. “You didn’t need us to win, Haven. But I’m so glad we got to watch you do it.”
I could’ve rolled my eyes, but I don’t then she looks at me. And even through the mask, I know she sees what’s under it.
“I meant what I said, I’d lose to you every goddamn day.”
She nods then pulls us both in cameras be damned. Reps waiting or not. This moment is hers and she’s not going to apologize for loving us in it. Not when we’ve chosen her, not when she just conquered everything.