Back at home, life moved on, slower and quieter.
Svetlana had adjusted to taking care of Ava while dealing with the early stages of pregnancy.
It wasn't physically demanding yet, just the occasional wave of nausea and the subtle fatigue creeping in during the afternoons. And Ava, still young and sweet, didn't cause much trouble.
But the house felt different now.
When Damon was in camp, he still came home every night. No matter how brutal the day had been, no matter how late the sessions ran, he always found his way back to their bed, to his daughter's room, to the life they built together.
Now, that wasn't possible.
With the show keeping him housed in a separate hotel, locked into the daily grind of filming, training, and managing a full team of fighters, he was gone in every way that mattered. They still spoke every morning. He still called every night. But it wasn't the same.
Svetlana didn't need constant reassurance. She wasn't insecure. But she missed him.
The routines were lonelier. The meals were quieter. Even the bed, with just her and Ava curled up on the edge of it some nights, felt too big.
She stayed strong, as she always did. For Ava. For herself. For him.
But every time she hung up the phone and looked around the quiet apartment, she caught herself wishing this was just another fight camp.
Because back then, even at his busiest… at least he came home.
She understood the work he did. She always had.
Damon loved the fight game, not just the thrill of it, but the craft, the structure, the grind. It centered him. Gave him peace in a way few things could. And she loved that for him. Watching him chase something that brought him clarity, purpose, and pride, it made the sacrifices feel worth it.
Still, maybe she'd just gotten too used to having him around.
Ever since Damon walked into her life, everything had shifted. Slowly, then all at once. The chaos of their pasts began to settle. The future started to take shape. They weren't just surviving anymore, they were steering. Together.
And now, with him gone, even temporarily, the quiet felt heavier.
So she stayed steady. Kept Ava on routine. Took the calls. Listened to his voice through a screen.
And when Ava asked where Daddy was, she smiled, tucked the little girl in close, and whispered gently, "Daddy's gonna be home soon."
Because he always came back.
Damon, on the other side of the country, finally made it back to the hotel.
The evening was quiet. The kind of quiet that sinks into your muscles after long days of adrenaline and corner shouting. He showered, shaved, dressed down in a clean shirt and sweats, then sat on the edge of the bed.
His elbows rested on his knees. The room light hummed overhead.
He thought about the fights, Kenji's breakthrough, Kaito's fall, and everything in between. The highs and lows of coaching. The weight of guiding young men with dreams.
Only four fights remained.
Four fights. Four eliminations. Four chances to change someone's path, or to end it, at least for now.
After that, the final bracket would be locked. The real tournament would begin.
But for now, all Damon could do was sit with it.
He leaned back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.
Somewhere out there, his team was sleeping. Or overthinking. Or doubting.
And his job, as always, was to make sure they kept walking forward.
Tomorrow, they'd start again.
He thought about Kaito again.
Getting his first loss on the show hurt, but it wasn't shocking. Damon had always known this day would come. Some of his fighters were going to get slept. That was just the sport.
It didn't matter if you had the best coach, the sharpest team, or a perfect camp. One mistake, one lapse in judgment, and it could be over. That was what made this game brutal, and honest.
Sometimes it wasn't even a mistake. Sometimes the other guy just capitalized faster.
That was what Chase did.
Damon wasn't mad. He wasn't bitter. He'd seen it too many times.
But what mattered now was what came after. How Kaito handled it. How the rest of the team responded. How he, as a coach, kept them grounded without sugarcoating the truth.
He ran a hand down his face, then leaned forward again, elbows on knees.
"Four fights left," he muttered under his breath.
And still, everything could change.
After all, Ivan's team could make a turnaround. They could win every remaining match, flip the momentum, and take control of the entire tournament.
Damon scoffed at the thought.
He wasn't going to let that happen.
He didn't get to keep the perfect streak, sure, but he wasn't walking out of this show with second place. Not as long as he still had fighters left to put in the cage.
He had come in as the undefeated champion, and he was going to leave with his name still holding weight.
One stumble didn't change that.
They'd lost a fight, not the war.
And with four matches left, there was still plenty of time to remind everyone exactly who ran the show.
He went to sleep with that in mind. Focused. Calm. Ready to reset.
Only to jolt awake what felt like minutes later, his chest tightening slightly as he realized—
He hadn't called Svetlana.
He sat up fast, eyes scanning the dim hotel room. The clock glowed back at him. Just past midnight.
"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his face.
He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, already dialing her number as he stood and paced toward the window. The line rang twice before she answered, her voice soft and sleepy.
"…You forgot," she said quietly.
"I know, baby," Damon sighed. "I knocked out. Just got in, showered, sat on the bed and blacked out. I'm sorry."
There was a pause, then a tired little breath. "It's okay."
"No, it's not. I said I'd call."
"You're exhausted, Damon. I get it. Just… don't make it a habit."
"I won't." He leaned against the cold glass, looking out at the city. "I miss you."
He closed his eyes. "How's Ava?"
"Asleep. She asked about you today."
Damon smiled faintly. "What'd you say?"
"I told her Daddy's busy being a coach, but he'll be home soon."
He let the silence hang for a second, the guilt softening into warmth. "Thanks for holding everything down."
"You just win," she said. "I'll handle the rest."
He stayed on the line for a while, just listening to her breathing, grounding himself again before he finally said goodnight for real. Then he went back to bed, this time sleeping a little deeper.