They saw me as their champion, and like hell I’d let this snake poison what we’d built.
“If you didn’t hear me before, I’m going to shut your mouth for you. Get fucking lost.”
“Mais non, Dante. I’ve already sent photos to my friend atSports Illustrated. One word from me and they go public. Wouldn’t want the U.S. team to lose an up-and-coming fencer like Linus to such ascandale, would they?”
The threat was enough.
The crowd faded to white noise. My vision narrowed like it does before a crucial match, everything crystallizing into perfect focus. Protective instincts surged like an inferno.
Quentin pulled back, getting a good look at the fire burning in my eyes, but my fist was already flying. It connected with his nose in brutal slow motion—a sharp crunch, a shockwave up my arm, and the bloom of crimson on his pristine white uniform.
After I punched him, I grabbed Quentin by his collar, yanking him close as blood ran down his chin. Fear replaced his smugness.
“That’s what gets your rocks off, huh? Ruining someone’s life for sport? Say you’ll never breathe a word about Linus again.”
“I won’t! I swear it! I don’t have photos, I was bluffing.” His voice cracked, his panic evident. “I won’t say anything.”
I knew he was telling the truth. Quentin was a coward at heart. But the damage was already done.
My coach, Lev, screamed in Russian. Before the crowd could gasp, security materialized, dragging me out of the arena.
The fallout came fast.
The United States Fencing Association committee has a zero-tolerance policy for violence, and SafeSport doesn’t take context into account. They wouldn’t care about Quentin’s words or his threats. All they saw was me—fist raised, temper flared, reputation shattered.
Suspended.
For one full year. Pending disciplinary review.
Banned from every U.S. Fencing event until next May. Not allowed to compete, attend, view, or be near fencing.
And to top it off, I have to spend the year doing community service.
I was stupid, reckless, arrogant. I know better. In fencing, there’s no room for hesitation. You react. Instinct takes over. That’s what always made me one of the greats, the ability to move first and think later.
But this time, acting before thinking cost me everything.
If I’d waited. If I’d let it go. If I’d handled it the way I should have, I might be standing in that stadium with my team, wearing red, white, and blue, competing against the best in the world.
The memory of Quentin’s sneer dissolving into shock. Knowing I’d protected Linus from that bastard’s threats, I can’t bring myself to fully regret it.
Even if I’m here.
My life on pause.
It’s all so vivid I forget where I am. Forget I’m not supposed to care anymore.
I drag my cigarette until the taste of the filter fills my mouth and will those memories back into the recesses of my mind where they belong.
“Here’s your drink, Dante.” The beautiful woman who was here earlier returns with a perfectly crafted Manhattan. “Shouldn’t you be up there with the rest of them?” She gestures toward the TV.
Everyone turns to face me.
They all read the headline:Dante Hastings Suspended from United States Fencing Association and the U.S. Olympic Fencing Team. Yet they’re starved to know the real reason behind my punch, not the fluffed news coverage.
I toy with the idea of lighting another cigarette as I formulate my response, ignoring the way my chest tightens at their scrutiny.
Finally, I flash her my most charming smirk. “Why settle for a gold medal when I can have a yacht full of golden goddesses?”
