Gabriel stands frozen in the center of a rapidly expanding circle of empty space, as attendees step away from him like he’s contagious. His perfect composure finally cracks, his face cycling through shock, outrage, and panic in rapid succession.
“This is—this is clearly doctored footage,” he sputters, his accent thickening with stress. “Someone is trying to frame me!”
Lena, standing beside me with her trophy still clutched in her hands, lets out a small, incredulous laugh. “Are you serious right now? There you are, on camera, literally pouring rancid oil all over my display.”
“It wasn’t rancid oil,” Gabriel snaps, then immediately realizes his mistake. The hall falls silent. “I mean—that’s not me. Obviously.”
Security personnel converge on him from multiple directions. I take a single step forward, but Lena’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Don’t,” she says, her voice low. “He’s not worth it.”
I growl, the sound rumbling up from deep in my chest. “Just one punch. Small one. He’d barely feel it.”
She rolls her eyes, but her fingers tighten on my bicep. “Pretty sure your version of a ‘small punch’ would put him through the wall.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Thorne.” Her voice softens. “We won. He lost. And now everyone knows exactly what kind of person he is.”
She’s right. The crowd that had gathered to celebrate Lena’s victory is now watching Gabriel’s downfall with the exact same fascination. His pristine reputation, built on smoke and mirrors and pretension, is crumbling in real time. His team has already dispersed, distancing themselves from the scandal. The judges look on with barely concealed disgust.
It’s a complete destruction.
And while I’d still prefer to crush his windpipe with my bare hands, I have to admit—this is better. This will follow him forever. He’ll never work in this city again.
As security escorts him out, he tries one last desperate appeal, looking directly at Lena. “You don’t understand—I had to! Your bakery is a joke! The name alone—who calls a bakery ‘Moist’? You don’t deserve to be here! You don’t?—“
The doors close behind him, cutting off his pathetic tirade. A beat of awkward silence follows, then, like a switch flipped, the celebratory mood returns. People crowd around Lena, offeringcongratulations doubled by sympathy, outrage on her behalf, praise for her grace under pressure.
I stand back, watching, a silent sentinel at the edge of her spotlight. She handles it perfectly—gracious but not falsely humble, accepting victory without gloating over Gabriel’s fall. She’s meant for this. For recognition. For success.
When we finally escape the convention center, the sun is setting, painting the New Vegas skyline in shades of gold and crimson. Lena is buzzing with energy the whole way back to Moist. She talks too fast, too animated, hands flying as she describes the moment the judges handed her the feature offer—a full spread in Monstrous Eats, the most prestigious monster-run food magazine in the city.
“This is huge, Thorne,” she says, bouncing slightly as she unlocks the bakery door. “Do you know what this means? It means visibility. It means people will take Moist seriously. It means?—“
“That I’m going to have to deal with a lot more foot traffic in the courtyard,” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, poor you.”
I grunt. “Don’t expect me to be nice to your customers.”
She flashes me a bright, mischievous grin. “Thorne, you’re never nice.”
I scowl. “Exactly.”
She laughs, pushing the door open.
The bakery smells like home.
Warm. Familiar. The lingering scent of butter and yeast and toasted sugar curling into the air.
She moves behind the counter on pure instinct, already prepping something, her hands moving in a rhythm I know by heart now. The trophy sits on the counter, catching the last rays of sunset through the front windows, but she’s already focusedon tomorrow’s bread, tomorrow’s pastries, tomorrow’s work. The victory doesn’t change who she is or what she loves.
It’s this—her certainty, her purpose—that I admire most.
And before I can talk myself out of it, I say?—
“I’ve been coming here every morning before you open.”
