I wasn’t supposed to be there. Every step I took down the corridor of the Raw arena sent a fresh ache up my side, my arm still strapped tight in a cast, ribs barely holding together after what Cena and Rock did to me. Every doctor, trainer, and official told me to rest. Recover. But how could I rest when he was out there, running his mouth like he hadn’t tried to end me? The moment I stepped through the curtain and onto the ramp, the arena erupted. Gasps. Cheers. A few people yelling, “She’s crazy!” Maybe I was. But I’d never felt more right.
I didn’t wait for my music. Didn’t need it. My boots hit the ramp, deliberate and unshaken. Pain lanced through my side with every step, but I ignored it. Because standing in that ring—microphone in hand, smug little grin on his face—was John Cena. “I mean, come on,” he was saying, arms wide as he paced inside the ring. “Where’s Cody, huh? Thought the American Nightmare never gave up. But I guess when your little guardian angel gets snapped like a twig, you think twice about showing up.”
Laughter. Mockery. The crowd booed, but Cena reveled in it. “And hey, let’s talk about her, shall we?” he continued. “This fearless, untouchable, trash-talking vigilante. What’s left of her now? A busted wing, some broken ribs, and a sob story.”
That was when I grabbed a mic and stepped into the spotlight. “Funny,” I said, voice sharp and steady. “You seem real bold up there, John. All that bark, all that bravado—but you left out the part where it took you and The Rock to put me down.”
The crowd roared. Cena’s smirk faltered. Just a little. “And I’m still here,” I continued, making my way to the steel steps. “Still standing. Still talking. So either you’re losing your edge... or you were never that dangerous to begin with.”
Cena’s expression darkened. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Showing up here like this. But guts don’t mean brains. You’re alone. No Cody. No backup. And let’s be honest, sweetheart—you’re not scaring anyone with a busted wing and a big mouth.”
I stopped halfway up the steps. “Oh John... see, that’s where you’re wrong.”
Then I climbed the final step and stood tall on the apron, staring him down. “You messed with the wrong family. And in my family... you mess with one of us—”
The lights dropped. The crowd lost it. “—you mess with all three of us,” I finished, the mic still to my lips, voice echoing through the pitch black. And when the lights came back on? Kane stood to my left. Undertaker to my right. Both flanking me like twin towers of fire and fury. Cena’s face... it was priceless. Mouth parted, eyes wide. The blood drained from his face like someone pulled the rug out from under him. You could almost hear the oh-shit moment clicking in his brain. “Yeah,” I said with a slow, smug grin, “surprise.”
He didn’t even get a chance to speak. The lights cut again. A thunderclap hit the arena. And when they came back on? Cena was gone. So were my brothers. I stood alone in the middle of the ring, microphone dangling from my fingers, heart hammering in my chest. I let the silence sit for a moment, soaking in the stunned faces in the crowd. I turned to leave, stepping through the ropes, the corner of my mouth twitching with a smirk. But then—
“IF YA SMELLLLLLLL—”
I froze.
Oh no. Not him.
The Rock’s theme hit the speakers like a hammer, and the crowd erupted again, this time with a mix of cheers and tension so thick it crawled under your skin. I turned slowly, back into the ring, just in time to see him standing at the top of the ramp, mic in hand, sunglasses already in place, that trademark smirk on his face. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, slowly walking down. “Look who just can’t seem to stay down. Either you’re the bravest little angel I’ve ever seen… or the stupidest.”
I clenched my jaw and walked straight up to the ropes, meeting him at the edge as he stepped up onto the apron. “Maybe I’m both,” I snapped. “But at least I don’t need to jump someone from behind with my washed-up buddy to make a point.”
He laughed, stepping into the ring like this was a joke to him. “Oh honey, you made the point—laid out in the ring, arm twisted, ribs cracked. That’s what happens when kids play in grown men’s games.”
I walked right up to him. No hesitation. Nose to chest—he was taller, sure. But I didn’t back down. “And what happens when the grown men finally realize the ‘kid’ is still on her feet, still swinging, and not afraid of a damn thing?”
The crowd was eating it up. The Rock lowered his glasses with a mocking look. Then he shoved me. Hard. My back hit the mat with a thud, and pain exploded through my ribs like a firecracker. I bit down a scream, gripping my side as the arena gasped. That smug bastard stood over me, arms wide.
But then—
“KINGDOM” blared through the arena. The crowd went ballistic. Cody Rhodes sprinted down the ramp like a storm unleashed, eyes locked on The Rock. Before The Rock could even react, Cody launched himself forward and speared him from behind. They hit the mat hard, bodies tangled, and the crowd exploded as fists flew. I sat up slowly, wincing, but watching through narrowed eyes. My partner. My best friend. My brother in arms had arrived.
And now? We weren’t alone anymore. The crowd was electric, shouting and cheering as Cody laid into The Rock. Fists flew like lightning, each one landing with the kind of force that made me wince—and not from pain this time. At first, I was cheering too. Quietly, inside. He deserved it, didn’t he? After everything The Rock had said, after what he did to me?
But then I saw it. Something changed. Cody’s movements stopped being calculated. They turned wild—almost feral. His body hunched slightly, muscles coiled so tight I thought he might snap his own arm with the next punch. I caught a glimpse of his face—jaw clenched, eyes narrowed into slits.
No. Not just narrowed. Darkened. There was something off. I pushed myself off the mat, ignoring the protest from my ribs, and hobbled a few steps closer. That’s when I saw the gleam of something in his hand—clenched in his right fist like a loaded weapon.
Brass knuckles. My heart stopped. “Cody—!” I shouted, my voice swallowed by the noise of the crowd. He didn’t hear me. Or maybe he didn’t want to. He reared his arm back, brass catching the arena lights with a wicked shimmer, and I didn’t even think—my body just moved. I surged forward and grabbed his wrist with both hands, stopping him inches before his punch connected with The Rock’s jaw.
“Cody,” I said, softer now, urgent. “Don’t.”
He froze—but not out of surprise. It was more like he had to force himself to pause. Slowly, he turned his head toward me, his eyes meeting mine. I barely recognized them. Yesterday, there’d been flickers of that same shadow behind his gaze. But now… it was darker. Heavier. Like something had cracked inside him, and the light was struggling to break through. “Look at me,” I whispered. “Cody, this isn’t you.”
His fist trembled in my hands, and The Rock—rattled but not stupid—took the chance to scramble out from under him and roll out of the ring. I didn’t care. My focus never left Cody. “I hate him too,” I said, voice low and raw. “You know I do. But not like this. This… this isn’t how we fight.”
His jaw flexed, like he was grinding his teeth. Still silent. Still locked in that inner storm. “Come on,” I pleaded. “You’re not a monster. You’re not him. You’re better than this. We’re better than this.”
I searched his face for a reaction. A crack. A blink. Anything. Instead, Cody slowly pulled his wrist from my hands and stood. His movements were stiff. Controlled. Too controlled. Then he walked away. No words. No glance back. Just silence and the sound of his boots against the mat as he stepped through the ropes and disappeared up the ramp. I stood there for a moment, surrounded by thousands of screaming fans who didn’t know what just happened—who thought the drama had ended with The Rock crawling away.
But for me, it had only just begun. I didn’t feel victorious. I didn’t feel strong.
I felt cold. And scared.
Not of Cena. Not of Rock.
But of the darkness I’d just seen in Cody’s eyes… and how close it looked to the darkness I knew too well in myself. I stared at the ramp where he disappeared, clutching my casted arm and whispering under my breath. “I won’t let you fall, Cody. I swear it. Not like this.”
Not on my watch. Not my family.
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