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 conqueredeverything.
33
Haven
There are cameras flashing, streamers holding their phones up and influencers yelling over one another to get the best clip. I’m center stage, blinking beneath the arena lights, my fingers clutching the trophy like it might vanish if I loosen my grip.
The announcer is trying to talk through the chaos, something about my kill count, my leader board stats, my undefeated bracket run. The confetti’s still falling, sticking to my hair, glittering on my hoodie.
A man in a headset waves me forward to the podium and shoves a mic into my hand. “Say something,” he mouths. “They’re still live.”
I freeze. “Uh.” I glance out at the crowd, my pulse pounding. “Hi. I don’t know what to say. I mean this is insane. I came here hoping to survive this tournament. I didn’t expect to win. I didn’t expect to feel…” I trail off, catching my reflection on the screens,exhaustion written in the lines of my face. But I look happy, I look like me.
“I didn’t do this alone,” I say, firmer now. “To the people who believed in me, who streamed with me, stood behind me, talked me down when I wanted to give up… this win is yours, too.”
I catch sight of them in the wings. Carter, glowing like the goddamn sun. Tate, who’s still masked and motionless, but I feel his smirk through the chaos.
My voice cracks a little. “Thank you.” The crowd loses it all over again.
I don’t even remember getting off the stage.
One minute I’m blinded by spotlights and praise, the next I’m stumbling through the maze of side halls and velvet ropes with the trophy still clutched in one hand and tears burning the corners of my eyes.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Carter’s hands are on my shoulders.
“Hey,” he breathes, ducking into my space, his voice breaking through the static still ringing in my ears. “Look at me, baby.”
When I do I completely fall apart.
The tears hit all at once, overwhelming and messy. I laugh and cry at the same time, the adrenaline catching up to me in waves, crashing into my chest like I might never come down. Carter pulls me into his arms.
“I—I can’t believe this is real,” I choke out against his shoulder.
“It is,” he whispers. “You did it.”
Arms wrap around me from behind. “I could hear them chanting your name from backstage,” Tate says against my ear. “Thought I was gonna have to walk out there and fight someone just for being too close.”
I laugh wetly, the sound caught between joy and complete collapse. “I feel insane,” I whisper.
“You look insane,” Tate says, stepping around to tilt my chin up. “Beautiful and high on power.”
Carter brushes my hair off my face, kisses my temple. “You need a second?”
“Please.”
Tate jerks his chin down the hallway. “I saw a room. Empty but locked so I jimmied it. Don’t ask questions.”
I blink at him. He just shrugs. “You won. You get whatever you want.”
The room’s dim and narrow, an unused green room from the look of it. A beautiful blue velvet couch with a long wall mirror is on the left side. Boxes and totes are piled high all along the right. A faint hum of the crowd bleeds through the vents, but it’s quiet enough to breathe. I drop the trophy onto the coffee table.
Tate locks the door. Carter’s at my side. “You sure?”
I nod once. “Make it about me.”
Tate’s grin is instant. “Oh, pretty girl. You have no idea.”
He’s on me in seconds, his hands on my jaw, mouth hot and open over mine, kissing like he’s starving. Carter pulls me back by the waist, hands sliding up my hoodie, pushing it off my shoulders slowly.
