Chapter 3 - THE VIDEO DEREK WANTED ERASEDBy the time Cole pulled into the emergency room parking lot, the threatening messages had stopped.
That worried me more than if they had continued.
Derek Collins was not the kind of man who suddenly discovered restraint.
I sat in the passenger seat with an ice pack against my neck while Cole killed the engine.
“You dizzy?”
“A little.”
“Nauseous?”
“No.”
“Vision?”
“Fine.”
He nodded, but he didn’t relax.
Cole had been calm since the gym.
Too calm.
I knew that version of my brother.
It meant he was thinking three moves ahead.
“You think Derek sent those messages?”
“I think somebody who wanted you quiet sent them.”
“That’s a yes.”
“It’s a probability.”
I almost smiled.
Even when furious, Cole talked like he was giving testimony.
Inside the emergency department, a nurse took one look at the bruising around my throat and moved me ahead of three people in the waiting area.
The doctor ordered imaging.
That was when the night became real.
Until then, some part of me had still been trying to minimize it.
Maybe because everyone at Apex had spent months minimizing Derek.
Maybe because women get very good at asking themselves whether something was “really that bad” when everyone around them seems determined to call it normal.
The doctor didn’t call it normal.
“You lost consciousness?”
“Yes.”
“After indicating submission?”
“Three taps.”
“Was pressure maintained after you became unresponsive?”
“My brother says yes.”
The doctor looked at Cole.
“How long?”
“Hard to say. Several seconds.”
His eyes moved back to me.
“We’re going to check for vascular injury and airway swelling.”
My stomach dropped.
“Vascular injury?”
“It’s precautionary.”
Cole put a hand on my shoulder.
That was the first moment I became frightened after leaving the gym.
Not frightened of Derek.
Frightened of what he had actually done.
While I waited for scans, Rachel texted.
CALL ME ASAP.
I called.
She answered before the first ring finished.
“Emma.”
“What happened?”
“Vince shut the gym down.”
“For the night?”
“No. Like locked the doors and told everyone to leave immediately.”
Cole looked over.
Rachel continued.
“Then Derek started yelling that somebody had stolen his phone.”
“His phone?”
“Yeah. And Vince went into the office with him. They were in there for like twenty minutes.”
“What about the cameras?”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
I sat straighter.
“What?”
“Noah heard them talking.”
“Talking about what?”
Rachel lowered her voice.
“The recording.”
Cole was beside me now.
I put the call on speaker.
Rachel said, “Noah was getting his backpack from the locker room when he heard Derek tell Vince to delete tonight’s footage.”
My skin went cold.
“Did Vince agree?”
“Noah couldn’t hear everything. But then Vince said something like, ‘If this gets out, we’re both screwed.’”
Cole’s eyes hardened.
“Rachel, do you know where the footage is stored?”
She hesitated.
“I think the office computer.”
“Cloud backup?”
“No idea.”
Cole looked at me.
“Tell Noah not to confront anyone. Tell everybody who witnessed tonight to write down exactly what they saw while it’s fresh.”
Rachel exhaled.
“Okay.”
“And don’t post anything online yet.”
That surprised me.
“Why not?”
“Because once they know exactly what witnesses remember, they know what they need to explain away.”
Rachel went quiet.
“Who is your brother?”
I said, “Apparently my unpaid attorney.”
Cole ignored that.
“Just preserve information. Don’t provoke them.”
We ended the call.
I stared at him.
“You think Vince will delete the video.”
“I think we should behave as though he might.”
“What do we do?”
“First, you get medically cleared.”
“And then?”
“Then you decide what you want.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“It happened to you, Emma. Not me.”
“You stepped in.”
“That doesn’t make the decision mine.”
That was Cole too.
He would stand between me and a truck.
But he would never pretend that protecting me gave him ownership over my choices.
The scans showed no arterial damage.
My airway was bruised and irritated.
The doctor told me to return immediately if I developed worsening swallowing problems, severe headache, confusion, weakness, or breathing trouble.
He also documented the strangulation.
That word appeared on my discharge papers.
STRANGULATION.
Not choke.
Not rough sparring.
Not accident.
Strangulation.
I stared at it for a long time.
Cole waited.
Finally I said, “I want to report him.”
He nodded once.
“Okay.”
No speech.
No “I knew you would.”
Just okay.
At 1:12 a.m., we walked into the police station.
I gave my statement.
Cole gave his separately.
The officer listened carefully.
When I showed him the messages, he photographed my phone.
Then he asked the question I had been expecting.
“Do you have proof that you tapped?”
“Security video.”
“You have a copy?”
“No.”
“Who controls it?”
“The gym owner.”
The officer wrote down Vince’s full name.
“And the owner witnessed the incident?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“That’s useful.”
I almost laughed.
“If he doesn’t erase it first.”
That got his attention.
“Why do you think he might?”
I told him what Rachel had heard.
The officer leaned back.
“Don’t contact the gym asking for the recording tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because if they destroy evidence after learning law enforcement may seek it, that can create additional problems for them. Let us handle the request.”
Cole looked at me.
That was the first tiny victory.
At 2:06 a.m., we finally left.
Cole drove me home.
I slept for maybe two hours.
At 6:41, my phone began exploding.
Messages.
Notifications.
Missed calls.
Rachel.
Noah.
Two people from the gym I barely knew.
Then I saw why.
A video had been posted online.
Not the security footage.
A cellphone video.
Thirty-eight seconds.
It began after Derek had already locked the choke.
The angle made everything look terrible.
My hands were visible.
My first tap could be seen clearly.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Derek continued squeezing.
Someone behind the camera said, “She tapped.”
Another voice said, “Derek.”
Then my arm fell limp.
The video ended.
I stared at the screen.
My stomach rolled.
The caption read:
THIS HAPPENED AT APEX COMBAT ACADEMY LAST NIGHT.
Within two hours, it had thousands of views.
Comments poured in.
Some were supportive.
Some were disgusting.
Fake.
Staged.
She should train somewhere else.
Women don’t belong in combat sports.
Derek was teaching her a lesson.
Cole came downstairs carrying coffee.
He saw my face.
“What?”
I showed him.
He watched once.
Then again.
His jaw tightened.
“Who posted it?”
“Anonymous account.”
“Original file?”
“I don’t know.”
Another notification appeared.
Apex Combat Academy had posted a statement.
We are aware of a video circulating online involving two adult students during a consensual training session. The clip lacks context and does not accurately represent the events that occurred. Safety is our highest priority. We are conducting an internal review.
I stared at the sentence.
“Lacks context?”
Cole read it.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Cole nodded toward the phone.
“Your choice.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
“Is this Emma Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Trevor Walsh. I trained at Apex three years ago.”
I sat down.
“Okay.”
“I saw the video.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What can I do for you?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said something that changed everything.
“You need to understand Derek didn’t start doing this to you.”
I looked at Cole.
Trevor continued.
“He’s been hurting people for years.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean deliberately.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“I complained about him in 2023.”
“What happened?”
“Vince banned me.”
My heart began pounding.
Trevor took a breath.
“Derek tore my ACL after I tapped.”
I closed my eyes.
“And there are others.”
“How many?”
“At least six I know personally.”
Cole sat across from me.
Trevor’s voice became lower.
“But that isn’t the worst part.”
“What is?”
“One of them was seventeen.”
Silence.
I opened my eyes.
“What happened?”
“His parents threatened legal action.”
“And?”
“Vince paid their medical bills.”
“That sounds like a settlement.”
“It was.”
“Then there should be records.”
“There are.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Do you have them?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
Trevor hesitated.
“Derek.”
I looked at Cole.
“Why would Derek have settlement records?”
“Because Derek isn’t just a student, Emma.”
I stopped breathing.
“He owns part of Apex.”
I thought of Vince calling it his gym.
I thought of Derek saying my gym.
Trevor continued.
“They hid the ownership because Derek had problems at his previous academy.”
“What problems?”
Another pause.
“Same kind.”
The phone suddenly felt heavy.
Trevor said, “If you’re going after him, understand something.”
“What?”
“He isn’t scared because he thinks he can beat people.”
“What is he scared of?”
“People comparing stories.”
And suddenly I understood why the message had said I had no idea what I was starting.
Derek wasn’t protecting one bad decision.
He was protecting years of them.
Before I could respond, Cole’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“Who is it?” I asked.
He answered.
“Cole Hayes.”
He listened.
Then stood.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
Cole looked toward me.
“The police went to Apex this morning.”
“And?”
“The security system had been wiped.”
My stomach dropped.
“All of it?”
“According to Vince, there was a malfunction.”
I almost laughed.
Of course there was.
Then Cole added:
“But they made one mistake.”
“What?”
“They didn’t know somebody else had already downloaded a copy.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Cole turned his phone around.
On the screen was a text from Noah.
I HAVE THE WHOLE VIDEO.
And beneath it:
May you like
DEREK SAW ME COPY IT.
HE’S OUTSIDE MY HOUSE.
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