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.”
