Chapter 6 - DEREK COMES BACKFor three days, nobody saw Derek.
Police checked relatives.
Friends.
Former teammates.
Training partners.
Nothing.
The internet, meanwhile, turned him into a myth.
Rumors said he had fled the country.
Rumors said he was hiding in the mountains.
One account claimed he had been arrested in Canada.
None were true.
Cole told me to ignore all of it.
I tried.
What I couldn't ignore was the fear.
Every car outside my apartment looked suspicious.
Every unknown number made my heart race.
Every time I stepped into a parking garage, I remembered Derek's arm around my throat.
I stopped sleeping properly.
That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
The physical bruising faded.
The fear didn't.
On the fourth morning, Cole found me sitting at the kitchen table before sunrise.
“You sleep?”
“Some.”
“Meaning?”
“Maybe two hours.”
He poured coffee.
I watched him.
“Were you ever afraid after coming home?”
He stopped.
The question was more personal than I usually asked.
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Nothing specific.”
“Then what?”
He sat across from me.
“Your body gets used to believing danger has a schedule.”
I waited.
“Then you come home and the schedule disappears. A grocery cart falls over, a motorcycle backfires, somebody walks too close behind you. Your body reacts before your brain does.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It was.”
“What fixed it?”
“Time.”
“That's it?”
“Time. Routine. Talking to people smarter than me.”
I smiled faintly.
“You mean therapy?”
“Yes.”
I had never heard him say that.
“You went?”
“For a while.”
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because it wasn't a family announcement.”
That made sense.
He looked toward me.
“You should talk to someone too.”
“I knew there was a lecture coming.”
“It isn't a lecture.”
“I was attacked four days ago.”
“Exactly.”
I stared into my coffee.
“Maybe.”
Cole nodded.
No pressure.
Later that afternoon, Kelly called.
A group of former Apex members wanted to meet.
Not to talk about Derek.
To build something after him.
“We were thinking of opening a nonprofit training program,” she explained. “Self-defense. Beginner jiu-jitsu. Safe coaching standards.”
I almost laughed.
“You want me involved?”
“You’re the reason everyone finally spoke.”
“No. Derek is the reason.”
“Derek created the problem. You helped expose it.”
I looked at Cole.
He pretended not to listen.
“I’ll think about it.”
That evening, the district attorney’s office contacted us.
The evidence from the flash drive was expanding the investigation.
Other alleged victims were giving statements.
Vince had hired an attorney.
He was cooperating.
That word made Lauren laugh when she heard it.
“Cooperating means saving himself.”
She wasn't wrong.
According to investigators, Vince claimed Derek had manipulated him for years.
Vince said he had wanted to remove Derek from Apex.
Messages suggested otherwise.
One conversation from eighteen months earlier said:
VINCE: We need to stop these complaints.
DEREK: Then stop training weak people.
VINCE: I mean financially.
That message destroyed most of Vince's innocent-partner narrative.
Still, Derek remained missing.
On Friday afternoon, I finally went back to my apartment alone.
Cole argued.
I insisted.
“I need clothes.”
“I can get them.”
“I’m not spending the rest of my life having you collect my underwear because Derek Collins exists.”
He considered that.
“Fair.”
He came anyway.
He stayed downstairs while I packed.
That compromise lasted twelve minutes.
I was standing in my bedroom when I heard a sound.
Closet.
Soft.
Movement.
Every hair on my arms stood up.
“Cole?”
No answer.
He was downstairs.
I stepped backward.
The closet door opened.
Derek walked out.
For one second, my mind refused to accept him.
He looked terrible.
Unshaven.
Eyes bloodshot.
Black sweatshirt.
“Don't scream.”
I screamed.
He lunged.
I ran.
His hand caught my shirt.
Fabric tore.
I slammed into the dresser.
My phone fell.
Derek grabbed my wrist.
“Listen to me!”
“Get off!”
“I just want the drive!”
“I don't have it!”
“Lauren gave it to you!”
“It’s with the police!”
His face changed.
He already knew.
Or had feared it.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Derek released me.
Cole appeared in the doorway.
Everything stopped.
For an instant, the scene resembled the gym.
Derek.
Cole.
Me on the floor.
But nothing about this was sport.
Cole's voice was very quiet.
“Step away from her.”
Derek backed toward the window.
“Don't.”
Cole entered.
Hands visible.
“I'm not touching you.”
“You think I'm stupid?”
“I think you're scared.”
“Shut up.”
Derek pulled something from his pocket.
A folding knife.
My blood froze.
Cole stopped.
“Put it down.”
“You'd like that.”
“Yes.”
“You think I'm going to prison because of her?”
Cole didn't look at me.
His entire focus stayed on Derek.
“You're making every option worse.”
“I don't need advice from you.”
“Then listen to yourself.”
Derek's hand shook.
Cole continued.
“You came into her home.”
“It's not like that.”
“With a knife.”
“I wasn't going to use it.”
“Then put it down.”
For a second I thought he might.
Then sirens sounded outside.
My scream had triggered the neighbor's call.
Derek panicked.
He turned toward the window.
Second floor.
Cole moved.
Fast.
He caught Derek's knife wrist before he could climb out.
They slammed against the wall.
Derek swung.
Cole redirected him.
The knife fell.
I kicked it under the bed.
Derek threw Cole into the dresser.
Cole grunted.
Derek charged again.
Cole dropped his level and took him down.
Not violently.
Efficiently.
Derek hit the carpet.
Cole controlled both wrists.
“Stop.”
Derek bucked.
Cole adjusted.
“Stop.”
“I'll kill you!”
Cole didn't respond.
Police entered the hallway.
“Hands!”
Cole immediately released Derek and raised his own hands.
“Knife under the bed!”
Officers swarmed.
Derek fought them.
Screamed.
Threatened.
Blamed.
For the first time, there was no mat.
No coach.
No belt.
No audience he could manipulate.
Just consequences.
As they dragged him past me in handcuffs, he looked directly at me.
“You did this.”
I surprised myself.
“No.”
He stopped struggling for one second.
“You did.”
Then the police took him away.
I stood in the hallway trembling.
Cole walked toward me.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“I mean, I'm not sure.”
He hugged me.
Not like a soldier.
Not like a protector.
May you like
Like my older brother.
And for the first time since the gym, I cried.
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