Soon enough, the table began to clear. Fighters filed out with their teams, cameras trailed after them, and the buzz of the press slowly shifted toward the endless cycle of headlines and highlight reels.
Damon left the room through the side exit, stepping into the quieter hallways of the arena.
Waiting for him just past security was Victor, seated in a chair with Ava perched on his lap.
The little girl's eyes lit up the moment she saw her father, her tiny arms stretching out toward him.
"Daddy!" she squealed.
Damon's expression softened instantly. He reached forward, scooping her into his arms, her little hands clinging tight to his neck.
Victor stood, brushing off his jacket, a smile tugging at his lips. "Great talk out there," he said. "I'll be honest, I didn't think you had it in you."
Damon chuckled, adjusting Ava on his hip. "He kind of made it easy, digging his own grave with half the things he said."
