The hospital room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the machines monitoring the two broken bodies inside. The early afternoon sun filtered through pale blue curtains, casting a warm glow on the scene. Angel lay curled beside Cody, her head resting against the mattress, her fingers still wrapped loosely around his. Bandages covered parts of her arms and shoulders, and bruises darkened the edges of her skin. She looked like she was still fighting a war, even in sleep.
The door creaked open softly. Brandi Rhodes stepped in first, followed by her and Cody’s daughter, Liberty. The little girl’s shoes squeaked faintly against the linoleum floor as she peered around her mother’s legs, her wide eyes taking in the sight before her.
Brandi smiled softly at the sight of Angel, bruised and stubborn even in unconsciousness, curled up by Cody’s side like a silent guardian. She quietly took out her phone and snapped a picture—something about the moment felt… sacred. She tucked the phone away just as Cody stirred. His eyelids fluttered. A low groan escaped his throat as he shifted, eyes squinting against the light until they finally adjusted. He blinked once. Twice.
Then he saw them. Brandi. Liberty. His chest rose sharply, as though the sight of them hit deeper than the ache in his ribs. Liberty’s eyes lit up. “Daddy!” she cried, rushing forward without hesitation. She climbed onto the edge of the hospital bed with practiced ease, her tiny hands reaching for his arm. “You’re awake!”
Cody’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her into a trembling hug. His breath hitched. “Hi, baby…” he whispered, voice raw, hoarse. His throat tightened, and his eyes brimmed with tears he couldn’t stop. “Hi…”
Liberty leaned back slightly, placing both hands on his cheeks. “Did Miss Angel punch the mean out of you?”
A choked sound escaped Cody’s lips—a laugh tangled in a sob. He nodded shakily, pressing his forehead to hers. “Yeah… yeah, sweetheart. She did.”
Brandi moved closer, brushing her hand gently across Cody’s hair. She leaned down and kissed his forehead with a tenderness that cracked his heart open even more. “She’s still fighting for you,” she said softly, glancing at Angel with something like awe. “Even now.”
Cody turned his head slowly and saw her. Angel. Bruised, bandaged, asleep. Her face relaxed but pale, like she had given everything and still wanted to give more. The memory of the match came rushing back—her voice screaming his name, the final blow, her body thrown in front of him like a shield. The sound of her trying to reach him, even through all that pain.
The tears finally fell, unchecked and silent. Liberty looked up at him with wide concern. “Daddy? Why’re you crying? Did someone hurt you again?”
Cody couldn’t speak. He opened his mouth, tried to answer, but all he could do was hold her tighter. Brandi stepped in gently, kneeling next to Liberty. “We’ll talk about it later, okay, baby?” she said gently, tucking a lock of hair behind Liberty’s ear. “For now, why don’t we go to the store? Let Daddy rest a little.”
“Okay!” Liberty chirped. She turned back to her father. “Do you want anything, Daddy?”
Cody wiped at his eyes and smiled faintly, the kind of smile that spoke of heartbreak and healing all at once. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just bring back your smile.”
Liberty giggled and kissed his cheek. “Okay!”
Brandi gave Cody’s hand one last squeeze, then took Liberty’s hand, guiding her gently toward the door. Once they were gone, the room grew quiet again. Cody reached for his phone with a trembling hand. He opened the latest video clip.
The match.
He watched it in full—every blow, every scream, every moment he lost control. He watched Angel stand in front of him, again and again, until she finally dropped to her knees and he saw himself—no longer the fighter, but the monster she fought to stop. When the video ended, he let the phone slip from his hand onto the blanket. He turned his head again, gaze resting on Angel. She hadn’t moved. “Angel…” he whispered, his voice barely above breath. “You saved me…”
She didn’t respond, still lost in exhausted sleep. But that didn’t stop him from continuing, voice low and fragile. “I don’t know how to fix what I broke,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over her fingers. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying… if you’ll let me.”
And for a moment, just a moment, Angel’s hand twitched faintly in his.
Angel’s POV
The world came back to me slowly. I could hear the machines first—steady, rhythmic, humming a soft lullaby of survival. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to my nose. Every inch of my body ached like I’d been chewed up by a monster and spit out halfway. My skin buzzed, nerves raw and sluggish. My head felt too heavy for my neck, and when I finally pried my eyes open, the soft light of the room made them sting. But I didn’t care.
Because when I lifted my gaze—there he was.
Cody.
Awake.
Alive.
His blonde hair was messy, his face pale and bruised, but those blue eyes… they were clear. Sharp. Present. He was here. He saw me, and for a moment, we just stared at each other like we were afraid the other might vanish. Then—he smiled.
A small, hesitant, real smile. I couldn’t breathe for a second. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to burst free. That smile was all I needed. I didn’t wait. My body protested, but I ignored it. My arms moved before my brain could catch up, and I shoved the wheelchair closer, practically launching myself forward until I was wrapped around him. Or as close to wrapped as my bruised, bandaged self could manage. “You’re back,” I choked out, my voice cracking on the words. My arms trembled around him. “You’re actually back…”
His arms came around me slowly, like he was scared he’d break me—but they tightened with each passing second. His chest hitched against mine. I felt it—his breath stutter, his body shake. Then the tears came, his and mine, falling quietly as the weight we both carried started to slip off our shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair, his voice raw. “Angel… I’m so sorry for everything. Thank you. Thank you for—thank you.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him, wiping my eyes with trembling fingers. “You don’t have to be sorry, dork,” I said, sniffling through a watery smile. “Family sticks together. You’d do the same for me.”
He hesitated, guilt still thick in his eyes. “But I—”
“No,” I cut him off, firmly. “You weren’t you. And I don’t blame you for that. I never will. And if I had to go through it all again to bring you back, I’d do it. In a heartbeat. No question.”
He swallowed hard, lips trembling, and for a moment neither of us spoke. We just sat there—two bruised messes held together by pain, loyalty, and whatever kind of stubborn, stupid bond best friends like us shared. Then Cody gave a half-laugh, still wet with tears. “You always were better at saving people than I was.”
“Damn right,” I grinned. “But don’t make me do it again, okay? This body only has so many flips and chair shots left in it.”
He smiled, wider this time. More confident. And I leaned back in the chair, letting myself relax for the first time in… man, who knew how long? That’s when the door creaked open. A shadow filled the doorway, tall and ominous. Even in a hospital room, he looked like death itself had stopped by to check in.
Undertaker.
Cody stiffened immediately. His fingers twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to salute or brace for a fight. “Taker,” I said quickly, lifting a hand. “It’s okay. We’re okay. He’s okay.”
The Deadman’s eyes narrowed on Cody like he was weighing his soul right then and there. After a few tense beats, he gave a slow, silent nod… and left without a word. I let out a breath and chuckled under it. “Love you too, big guy.”
Cody looked at me like he’d just seen a ghost. “Was he… going to do something to me?”
I smirked and turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Relax. I wouldn’t let my brothers go after you. They’d burn the world down for me. But don’t worry.”
“…That somehow doesn’t help,” he muttered.
I grinned. “Because it’s my job to kick your ass when you screw up. Not theirs.”
That got a real laugh out of him—wobbly, rough, but real. I leaned my head against the edge of the bed, still holding his hand, both of us beat to hell but finally breathing again. We were broken. But we were here. And for now, that was enough.
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