Chapter 32: I Don't Need Saving—I Am the Threat
[Lana]
"You always act like you're the one protecting me."
I said it so quietly he almost missed it.
We were sitting on his bed. Post-everything. The house was too quiet. The city too loud. My chest too full.
He looked at me, jaw tense. "Because I am."
I shook my head. "No, Deimos. You don't even know what I've survived."
His mouth opened—but I kept going.
"I didn't grow up soft. There was no one tucking me in. No goodnight kisses. No family dinners. My parents died in a car crash when I was five. Bounced through foster homes. Lost every friend I ever got attached to."
His face changed. The softness dropped.
"I learned to defend myself before I learned how to braid my own hair."
I swallowed.
"Then I met Noah."
He didn't move—but his hands curled into fists.
"He wasn't charming. He was control dressed up like protection. He isolated me. Screamed when I wore things he didn't like. Slammed doors. Grabbed too hard. Said things I still hear when I try to sleep."
Deimos reached for me—but I held up a hand.
"I fought my way out of that. I ran. With nothing. I started over. Changed my number. My name in some places. Got a job at a café. Thought if I stayed small, I'd stay safe."
My voice dropped.
"Then you walked in."
⸻
[Deimos]
I didn't breathe.
She sat in front of me—shoulders straight, eyes calm, voice even—and told me things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.
I wanted to wreck something. I wanted to erase every man who ever looked at her wrong. But I knew that wasn't what she needed.
So I listened.
And she kept going.
⸻
[Lana]
"When I saw Roxie, I didn't panic because I've been face to face with worse. I've bled. I've hidden bruises with long sleeves. I've smiled through panic attacks."
I looked him dead in the eyes.
"You think I'm here because you saved me. But I'm here because I chose you. Because I see the rage in you and I don't run—I match it."
His throat bobbed. "Lana..."
"I'm not a victim. I'm a survivor. And I don't need you to fight my battles."
I leaned forward.
"I'll fight yours."
⸻
[Deimos]
She took over.
The next morning, she made calls.
Pulled footage from the arena's security cam and three phones that had tagged the fight online. She clipped the angle that showed Noah grabbing her wrist before I ever stepped out of the ring. The clip where I warned him once. Twice. Where the ref tried to stop it and Noah refused.
She put it all together in a clean, legal breakdown.
Sent it to Coach, the league, the sponsors.
I didn't have to do anything.
She sat at my desk with her sleeves rolled up, fire in her eyes, and took back control of the narrative like she'd done this her whole life.
And maybe she had.
⸻
[Lana]
"This video clears everything," I told the commissioner over the phone. "Deimos acted by the book. His opponent pushed it. You don't want a lawsuit."
They backed off fast.
The suspension was dropped within 48 hours.
Coach texted a half-hearted "thanks."
Sponsors started crawling back.
And Deimos just stared at me like I was magic.
"I didn't even know you were doing all this," he said, leaning against the doorframe.
"That's the point," I said, shutting my laptop. "They expect fire from you. They never see it coming from me."
He walked up, leaned down, and whispered against my cheek, "You're terrifying."
I smirked. "Takes one to know one."
⸻
[Deimos]
I used to think I was the weapon.
Turns out I'm just the shield.
She's the fire.
The fuse.
The one no one should've underestimated.
And now that the world's seen her?
God help the next person who tries to come for us.
Because she's not just in my corner.
She is the corner.
