“Can’t believe NoOneGhost went soft for some pussy.”
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. Ithrivein 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.