Post Match
Climax Control
Coral Gables, Florida

Climax Control 6/14/2026 Post Show extra:

Alexandra came into the backstage area on fire, she wanted to find Cassie and her little group of cronies who had tried to interrupt her and cost her the match against Brittany Williams. However their little plan had failed, Harper had gotten involved and stopped it. Once backstage, Alexandra was met by Harper, who tried to stop her from continuing her search for them.

“Not right now Harper, I appreciate what you did out there, but right now, I want to find Cassie and her little cronies. I need to prove my point.”

She knew about the shit between Cassie and Harper. But she was still shocked by her getting involved, especially with the risks.

“Look, I have my own reasons for hating Cass and I want to help you find them but I have no idea where they went after me and Cassie’s brawl got broken up.”

“Fuck. Well, you know where she'll be at Summer Xxxtreme.”

“Yeah, well, Evelynn put me under a strict no contact clause with Cassie once we’re on the cruise, breaking it would mean losing my spot in the Bombshell Roulette Title Match, so I gotta be on my best behaviour on the cruise.”

“That would be for the best.  You don't want to lose that chance. It's a sure fire way up the ladder. I speak from experience there. Attacking her now would cost you. But after your match, once that boat docks, tear her ass apart.” She smirks. “But they didn't say I couldn't beat her ass right now.”

With that Alexandra storms off in search of them. When she bumps into Miles who notices she's about to lose it if she finds Cassie Wolfe. 

“Hey ya brat, save it for Summer XxXTreme. You know doing it now proves nothing.” Miles spoke, he knew that look in her eyes.

She tried to struggle out of his hold. “Miles..” She sighed looking up at him. “Let me go, I need to do this. That bitch tried to get involved in my match to feed her own ego.”

“And you can make her pay at Summer XXXtreme.” Miles puts a hand on her shoulder, when she goes to move again he calls for LJ.  “LJ, will you come out here please?”

LJ comes out into the hall, looking at her. “Love, not yet. Save it, hold it in and use it on her. This isn’t you. Going off the rails. Love you won, you did that despite her attempts. You are going into Summer Xxxtreme, the champion, she can’t take that away. For now, come in here and we will figure out another way for you to get that aggression out.”

She tries to move again and he gave her those eyes.

“LJ, I.. I can’t just let her..”

“Angel.. Please..”

She relents seeing the look in his eyes. Her fury would have to wait until Summer XXXtreme. The last we see is LJ’s hand on her lower back as the door closes.

---

Lovers Night Out
Omnia Nightclub
Las Vegas, Nevada

Alexandra had expected Omnia to be loud. Las Vegas in a single room. His hand slipped into hers. She smiled before she even turned around. LJ, the man she loved, the man she’d marry in just a week and a few days' time. His fingers intertwined with hers automatically, a habit neither of them thought about anymore. It happened the same way breathing happened. Naturally. Without effort.

"There you are," he said.

Alexandra laughed. "I've been standing here the whole time."

"You disappeared." LJ gave her his classic smirk.

"I walked ten feet away." Alexandra laughed.

"Exactly love." His expression remained completely serious for almost two seconds before he grinned. “That’s too far away.”

Alexandra rolled her eyes. "You are impossible."

"And yet you're marrying me." LJ responded.

The words should not have affected her. Everyone said it, people at shows, family members, friends, vendors and wedding planners said them.  Yet hearing LJ say them still sent a strange warmth through her chest. And yet you're marrying me. Not someday, not eventually. Soon. Very soon.

She leaned against the railing and looked back toward the dance floor. "I still can't believe we're actually here."

"In Vegas? Where we live now." LJ looked at her confused.

"The wedding darling." She looked up into his eyes.

For a moment neither of them spoke. The music shifted into another song, prompting a roar from somewhere below. Lights swept across the room in rhythmic patterns, illuminating faces before plunging them back into shadow.

When LJ finally answered, his voice was quieter. "Yeah. It's getting close."

Alexandra laughed softly. "That sounded way more nervous than I expected."

"I am nervous." LJ gave her a look.

She turned toward him immediately. "You are?"

"Of course I am." LJ’s answer surprised her enough that she forgot to hide it and he noticed. "What?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought men didn't admit that." Alexandra gave him a smile.

LJ looked horrified. "First of all, that's offensive."

Alexandra gave a soft laugh.

"Second, have you met me? I get nervous ordering food if the menu is too long." LJ continued.

"Fair point." Alexandra nodded her head.

"Thank you Angel." He gave a playful bow.

The smile lingering on his face made her chest tighten. She loved that smile, not because it was perfect. Because it was his. Over the years she had learned all the different versions of it. The polite smile he used around strangers. The exhausted smile he wore after long workdays. The mischievous smile that usually meant trouble. This one was different. This was the smile he reserved for moments when he felt safe. For moments when it was just the two of them. Even in a room packed with strangers.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" LJ asked.

Alexandra blinked. "Like what?"

"Like you're conducting a scientific study." LJ nudged her playfully.

"I am not." Alexandra gave him a playful look.

"You absolutely are." LJ smiled more.

She laughed and looked away. The truth was she had been doing that a lot lately. Watching him. Memorizing him. The closer the wedding got, the more aware she became of time. Not in a sad way. More like a grateful one. She found herself collecting moments. The sound of his laugh. The way he sang the wrong lyrics to songs with complete confidence. The fact that he never remembered where he left his keys.

Tiny things, ordinary things. The things that actually made up a life together. A server passed carrying a tray of drinks. Nearby, a group erupted into cheers as another bottle service presentation arrived with flashing lights and sparklers.

Alexandra shook her head. "This place is insane."

LJ followed her gaze. "You're having fun though."

"Obviously." She gave him a bright smile.

"You look happy." He kissed her cheek.

The simplicity of the statement caught her off guard. Not beautiful, not excited, not impressive, happy. Something about that word felt more intimate. Because happiness was harder to fake.

Her expression softened. "I am happy."

His smile deepened. "Good."

For a few moments they simply stood together watching the crowd. The music continued pulsing through the room. People came and went. The night unfolded around them. Alexandra rested her head briefly against his shoulder. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Something comfortable, familiar, like home. The realization made her smile. When she was younger, she had always imagined love would feel dramatic. Fireworks, you know, the whirlwind romance. Movies had convinced her that relationships were supposed to exist in a permanent state of emotional intensity. Real life had taught her something different. Real love was quieter. It was finding comfort in someone's presence. It was knowing exactly who you wanted to call when something good happened. It was reaching for someone's hand without thinking. It was standing in one of the loudest places on earth and somehow feeling calm because they were beside you.

"You got quiet." He spoke up his ear next to her ear.

She looked up and LJ was watching her.

"I was thinking." Alexandra replied.

“That’s dangerous." He winked.

"Oh, please." She playfully rolled her eyes.

He laughed. "What were you thinking about?"

Alexandra hesitated, the truth would be vulnerable. But after all, if there was anyone she could be honest with, it would be the man she was going to marry. LJ, her soon to be husband, who had seen her at her lowest and her highest and didn’t judge.

"I was thinking about how weird it is." She looked at him.

"What is?" He tilted his head.

"That we're getting married." She shrugged.

His eyebrows lifted. "We're back to that topic?"

"Apparently." He chuckled and Alexandra turned toward him fully. "No, seriously. Sometimes it still feels surreal." Alexandra couldn’t help.

"Why?" LJ looked at her as she considered the question.

"Because it happened gradually." She realized it.

He frowned slightly. "What did?"

"This." She gestured between them.

"Our life." The confusion disappeared from his expression. Understanding replaced it.

Alexandra continued. "There wasn't one moment where everything changed. It was a thousand little moments. One day we were dating. Then suddenly we'd been together for a year. Then we were sharing an apartment. Then holidays, vacations, and family events." She smiled. "And now we're planning a wedding."

LJ stared at her for a moment and then he nodded.  "I know exactly what you mean."

The answer surprised her. "You do?"

"Yeah." His gaze drifted toward the dance floor. "I think that's why it feels right. Because none of it was forced."

The sincerity in his voice settled somewhere deep inside her.

LJ shrugged. "We just kept choosing each other."

For a second neither of them spoke, everything around them seemed so distant, muted. His words echoed in her head. We just keep choosing each other. Simple, uncomplicated and true. Their hands linked again and he squeezed hers immediately without hesitation, like it was instinct. Something in her chest tightened unexpectedly, not in sadness or anxiety, but something closer to gratitude. After everything life had thrown at both of them, they had somehow found their way here, side by side.

"Okay," she announced suddenly.

LJ narrowed his eyes, his expression meant he already suspected trouble. "What?"

"Dance floor." She smirked.

"No." He shook his head.

"Come on." She tilted her head with a flirty pout.

"Absolutely not." He shook his head again.

Alexandra laughed. "You knew dancing was part of tonight."

"I was hoping you'd forget." He looked at the floor.

"Have we met?" She smirked.

His expression suggested immediate regret. Without waiting for further discussion, she grabbed his hand and started pulling. LJ resisted for approximately three seconds before giving up. The crowd swallowed them almost immediately. Music crashed around them and lights flashed overhead. People moved around them. Alexandra felt herself laughing before they even reached the center of the floor. There was something freeing about it. Nobody cared who you were, cared what you looked like, cared whether you could dance. Everyone was simply enjoying themselves. She started moving with the music. LJ shook his head, then, reluctantly, joined her. Alexandra lasted less than thirty seconds before she started laughing.

"What?" he demanded.

"You know what." She let out a laugh, dancing silly.

"I don't." He playfully shook her head.

"Yes, you do." She winked at him.

Their attempt at a spin nearly resulted in a collision with another couple.

Alexandra covered her mouth. "Oh my God."

"It wasn't that bad." He laughed.

"It was exactly that bad." Alexandra let out a laugh too.

The offended look on his face only made her laugh harder. Soon he was laughing too. The two of them stood in the middle of one of the most famous nightclubs in the world laughing like idiots. Alexandra could not remember the last time she had felt so light. No wedding stress. No deadlines. No decisions. No expectations. No Championship Match looming on the horizon.

Just music, laughter, love, and LJ. Eventually they retreated from the dance floor, both slightly breathless. Back at the railing, Alexandra accepted a bottle of water and took a long drink. Everything faded into the background, with LJ at her side.

"I love you," Alexandra said quietly.

The words escaped before she could think about them.

LJ smiled. "I love you too." Warmth spread through her chest.

Around them, Omnia continued to pulse with life. The people danced under the flashing lights, the music thundered and the city celebrated. But Alexandra barely noticed any of it. Because for the first time all night, she wasn't thinking about Vegas. She wasn't thinking about wedding planning. She wasn't thinking about the future at all. She was simply standing beside the man she loved, letting herself enjoy the moment exactly as it was. And somehow, that felt like enough.

---

Vox Populi
The Fountain at The Bellagio
Las Vegas, Nevada

Alexandra is at the fountain in front of the Bellagio. She’s just leaned on the railing looking out over the waters edge when people come over some of them in stunned silence at the famous wrestlers presence, others are trying to get her to talk to them about her thoughts on the match, others are wanting autographs, a large crowd gathering around her. 

“Alright I’ll tell you all my thoughts.” They all cheer louder, chanting her name and she laughs softly, looking around. She motions for the camera to come closer. “But I need you to promise to tune into Summer XXXTreme XIV, as I defend my Bombshell Internet Championship against Kat Jones and Cassie Wolfe. Not just defend, but retain. To remain the champion of the people.”

The crowd loses it again, cheering louder which makes more people come towards the crowd around her.

“So you all want me to talk about the big triple threat match for my Bombshell Internet Championship. First off, let me just say this, I’m the champion, I’ve been the champion since March eighth and guess what, by the day the match happens, I’ll have been the champion one hundred and thirteen days. That’s three months and twenty-one days. If either of these amazing ladies believe I’m going to just lay down and let them pin me, they are out of their minds and screaming into the void. They’ll have to end me, which would suck just two days before I’m to marry the love of my life. That’s right, just two days before I am to walk down the aisle to marry the love of my life.”

She gives them all a bright smile as she leans on the railing of the fountain.

“Now, I know it’s not polite to talk bad about people and I refuse to stoop to Cassie’s level, calling people names, it’s what she does. Anything to feed that big ego of hers right? That explains her big ass head. She had to have somewhere to store that ego. After all, it's all in her head right? Cassie look darling, you have repeatedly come at me, sure you’ve got one over. ONE. That’s all. Cassie you don’t have any idea of what you have gotten yourself into.”

Alexandra shakes her head and the people around her agree.

“You think you do. You think you are the one who’s going to walk out with the title. You believe it’s your right because of what? One match ages ago where you happened to get a win over me. Or is it the fact that you’ve let that little bit of a high you get from a string of wins has gone to your brains and ate them away. You have to be absolutely insane to believe you could outwrestle Kat Jones, let alone myself. I mean, I know you’ve taken a few bad hits in your time, but never something that bad. Listen, you should have stayed out of this, waited until the moment was right. But no, you had to let your ego into play. You injected yourself into this match and now, you have no choice but to walk through HELL for it. If you believe Kat or I will just let this go unchecked, you are seriously out of your fucking mind.”

The crowd cheers and Alexandra laughs nodding her head. The crowd only gets louder.

“Which brings me to you Kat, you and I never got to have our dance, we never got to have our match. Kat you are one of the most talented women to ever step foot into the ring. Your name is engrained deeply in Sin City Wrestling History as well as this industry and I, unlike these other women, will not discredit you for that. Nor will I stand here and pretend like you are beneath me. If anything I know without a shadow of a doubt, you are my biggest opponent in this match. The one that if I am going to lose, it’s going to be you that does it.”

She shakes her head, the time was drawing to a close, soon it would be time to head to the cruise ship, but for tonight she was going to soak this in.

“Kat, I'm genuinely honored to be facing off against you. It’s an honor and a pleasure. I wish we could have done this one on one, but, let’s deal with the little rat who thinks that she deserves this shot, then when it’s over and I retain, I’ll give you that one on one match you desire, the one we should have had, before Cassie had to stick her tiny little face into this. You and I are very much the same. Cut from the same cloth and truth be told, you and I would have made one hell of a showing. For now though, we knock the Judas Wolfe down a few pegs.”

The fans cheer, wanting a match between just the two of them.

“You hear it in their voices, the crowd wants to see us face off one on one. So I must do as they wish. I am their voice. I must give the people what they want. You and me, Kat, one on one.”

Alexandra jumps onto the railing and the fans start cheering louder.

“Hail Vox Populi, the people’s voice.”

With that she snaps her fingers and the screen goes black.

Alexandra Blog
Las Vegas, Nevada
Kasey Home

LIFE UPDATES:

Sometimes life comes at you fast and completely unexpectedly, the past year has been a whirlwind for me. Championships, Big matches and an unexpected engagement. It’s been a world of unforgettable moments and moments I never want to forget. If you would have told me a year ago that I’d be sitting here the Bombshell Internet Champion, I would have told you that you were absolutely out of your damned mind. I never could have dreamed of rising the ranks as quickly as I did her. Sure I’ve slipped and fallen. I’ve had highs and lows, things I thought I could never come back from. But life has a funny way of reminding you just who you are and what you can accomplish, if you never give up, even when everyone else says you should.

Enter the Bombshell Internet Championship. Winning this championship meant proving to myself that I belonged at the top of this division. Every match, every injury, every setback, it all led to this moment. Being champion isn’t just about carrying a title belt around your waist. It’s about pressure. Expectations. Knowing every single woman in the locker room is waiting for their chance to take what you fought so hard to earn. It’s about knowing that at any moment, anyone could knock you off that pedestal and end it.

Being a champion means being willing to lose it all. You can either soar high above everyone, or walk amongst them, knowing that at any moment it could all be over. The Bombshell Internet Championship may not be the world title, but I busted my ass to get it and I refuse to just give it up without a fight. It doesn’t matter who is standing across the ring from me. Friend or Foe, I will see to it that no matter who my opponent is, I give it my all. I want the best of the best and Sin City Wrestling has some of the best talent this industry has to offer.

And honestly? I welcome that challenge.

Outside the ring, things have been just as crazy. Somehow, somewhere along the way, LJ Kasey stopped being just my best friend’s annoying younger brother and became the person I can’t imagine my life without. Trust me, Miles still gives us both grief about it constantly, but I think even he’s finally accepted that this is real. He’s seen how good we are for each other. How we support each other’s dreams and goals. He’s seen how we are there for each other when the world goes dark.

LJ has been my calm in the chaos. Through the travel, the pain, the victories, and the nights where I questioned everything, he’s been there reminding me who I am when I forget. So when he asked me to marry him, there was never going to be another answer besides yes. I know it would sound weird to anyone who didn’t truly know us, but he’s everything I never knew I needed. He’s my rock, my strength, he and my daughter are the reason why I keep fighting when I feel like giving up. When the world is dark, there’s them.

Now we’re trying to balance wrestling schedules, school schedules, college life, family insanity, championship responsibilities, and somehow planning a wedding without losing our minds in the process. Easier said than done. But I wouldn’t give up any of it for the world. I wouldn’t change one minute of this journey we’ve been on. Especially now that we’ve officially set the date.  June thirtieth.

To everyone who has supported me this past year, thank you for believing in me when I didn’t have the strength to believe in myself. To the fans who believed in me when I was fighting to prove myself, thank you. And to everyone in the Bombshell division watching this championship closely?

I’m not done yet. This story is far from over, it’s just a new chapter.

Xoxo, Alexandra

---

Wedding Incoming
Las Vegas, Nevada
Kasey Home

The apartment was finally quiet. Not silent, it was never silent. There was still the distant hum of traffic outside the cracked balcony door, the rattle of pipes somewhere in the building, the low buzz of the television neither of them were actually watching. But compared to the chaos of the last few weeks, it felt close enough. Alexandra sat cross-legged on the couch in one of LJ’s hoodies, her championship belt resting on the coffee table across from her like a third person in the room. Her laptop was balanced against her knees, the glow from the screen reflecting faintly in her tired eyes.

LJ emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea. “Chamomile,” he said. “Because apparently your body runs exclusively on caffeine and spite.”

She snorted softly without looking up. “It’s gotten me this far.”

“Barely Angel.” He gave her that look she couldn’t deny.

He handed her the mug anyway before dropping down beside her. The couch dipped under his weight, familiar and warm. Alexandra leaned automatically against his shoulder, and LJ kissed the top of her head like it was second nature now. Maybe it was. For a while, neither of them spoke.

LJ glanced at the laptop screen. “You’re still working on that post?”

“I’m trying to.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Everything I write sounds fake.”

“That’s because you’re trying to sound inspirational.” He grinned. “Which is horrifyingly out of character for you.”

Alexandra elbowed him lightly. “I can be inspirational.”

“You threatened to powerbomb a reporter last month.” He chuckled.

“He asked if winning the championship was emotional because I’m a woman.” She rolls her eyes.

“Fair point.” LJ gave her a smile, one that showed he was just messing with her.

A laugh escaped her then, quieter than usual but real. LJ counted that as a victory. He studied her face for a moment. The exhaustion was still there. He could always tell now, even when she hid it from everyone else. The dark circles beneath her eyes, the slight tension in her jaw, the way her shoulders stayed tight even when she was supposedly relaxing. Most people saw the champion. LJ saw the cost of becoming one.

“You don’t have to post anything tonight,” he said gently.

“I know.” She looked at it.

“But?” He took a deep breath looking at her.

She stared down into her tea. “I want to.”

He waited. Alexandra had never needed someone to fill silences for her. That was one of the first things he’d learned about her in the time he knew her, back when she was just Miles’s terrifyingly intense best friend who treated him like an annoying child tagging along behind them. Now she looked at him like he was home.

“That whole year feels insane,” she admitted quietly. “Like I blinked and suddenly everything changed.”

LJ smiled faintly. “That’s because everything did change.”

“Yeah, but,” She shook her head. “I keep thinking about where I was before all this. Before the title. Before us. Before..” She glanced down at the engagement ring on her finger.

The ring caught the light every time she moved her hand. Sometimes LJ still caught himself staring at it in disbelief. Not because he regretted it. Because somehow she’d actually said yes.

Alexandra noticed him looking and smirked slightly. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?” He questioned softly.

“The ‘holy crap she agreed to marry me’ thing.” She responded without missing a beat.

“I’m allowed to be shocked, Angel.” He gave her a wink.

“You proposed.” She replied.

“And you accepted suspiciously fast.” He gave her a curious look.

She laughed softly and rested her head against his shoulder again. “There was never another answer.”

The teasing expression faded from LJ’s face, at her response. God. Every time she said things like that, it hit him all over again. For a while, Alexandra had felt untouchable to him. Not in the celebrity sense. In the emotional sense. Like she existed on some impossible level where nobody could ever really reach her. She was fierce and driven and stubborn enough to survive anything, but she carried everything alone. Then somewhere along the way, she stopped carrying it alone.

“You know,” she murmured, “if the me a year knew this was where we ended up, she’d probably throw herself into traffic.” She gave a laugh. “Don’t get me started on Miles.”

LJ barked out a laugh. “He still acts personally betrayed every time I kiss you in front of him.”

“He’s dramatic.” She gives a shrug. "You both are."

“He walked into the kitchen yesterday, saw me hugging you, and walked back out like he’d witnessed a murder.” LJ gave a slight chuckle.

“That’s because you’re his baby brother, LJ.” She snuggled into him.

“And you’re his best friend, love.”

“Exactly. I don’t think he expected us to fall in love.”

LJ grinned. “Honestly, I think part of him is just mad you like me more.”

“Nah, and even then.” Alexandra pulled back enough to look at him with mock offense. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Oh my God.”

He laughed as she shoved at his shoulder again. But then her expression softened.

“He was protective of me for a long time,” she said quietly. “Especially when things got bad.”

LJ nodded once. He knew exactly what she meant. The injuries. The pressure. The nights she spiraled so hard she convinced herself she was failing everyone around her. The panic attacks she tried to hide. The moments she stood in front of a mirror after matches looking like she was trying to recognize herself again. Miles had been there through all of it. So had LJ. Only somewhere along the line, Alexandra had started reaching for LJ first.

“He trusts you now, for you to do the job he used to do.” she continued. “That’s a big deal.”

“Yeah?” He gave a nod. “He trusts you too, you know.”

“Yeah.” A small smile touched her lips. “He sees what I see.”

LJ looked down at her carefully. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re annoyingly good for me.” She gave a laugh.

“Wow. Romance truly lives.” He nodded.

She rolled her eyes, but her fingers laced through his.

“You keep me steady,” she admitted after a moment. “When everything gets loud, you’re the thing that makes it quiet again.”

The sincerity in her voice hit him harder than he expected. Alexandra wasn’t someone who said vulnerable things easily. Every honest emotion felt earned with her.

LJ rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles. “You do the same for me, you know.”

She looked unconvinced immediately. “LJ.”

“No, seriously.” He shifted so he could face her more fully. “You think you’re the only one who gets lost sometimes?”

Her expression softened.

“You make me feel like I can actually do this,” he continued. "School. Wrestling. Life. All of it. Before you, I was just kind of floating around hoping things worked out.”

“You were not.” She shook her head.

“I absolutely was.”

“You literally have color-coded planners.”

“That’s anxiety, not direction.”

That got another laugh out of her. God, he loved that sound.

LJ leaned back into the couch cushions with a sigh. “We are kind of insane though.”

“Oh, completely.” She nodded in agreement.

“We’re planning a wedding while balancing college schedules and wrestling bookings.” He added in.

"And championship appearances.” She felt like they had been making excuses now.

“And your media obligations.” He motioned.

“And your inability to sleep.” She rested a hand on his chest.

“I sleep.” He knew he was caught.

“You passed out sitting upright yesterday.”

“That still counts.” He smiled before glancing toward the calendar pinned beside the kitchen.

June 30th.

The date was circled three different times because Alexandra kept worrying she’d accidentally double-book something and end up defending her championship during their rehearsal dinner.

“You nervous?” he asked quietly.

“About the wedding?”

“About all of it.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “Not about marrying you. Never that.” Her voice softened. “Just, everything else.”

LJ listened carefully.

“What if I can’t balance it all?” she continued. “What if eventually something has to give?”

“You mean the career stuff?”

“Everything.” She exhaled shakily. “Being champion. School. Us. Family. Fans expect me to constantly be strong.” She looked down at her hands. “I spent so long trying to prove I deserved any of this.”

LJ reached over and tilted her chin gently upward until she met his eyes. “You don’t have to earn being loved, Angel.”

The words landed heavily between them. Her expression cracked just slightly at the edges, enough for him to see the emotion she usually kept buried beneath confidence and sarcasm.

“That’s easy for you to say.” She whispered softly.

“No,” he said softly. “It’s easy for me to know. Because I do.”

She stared at him for a second like she was trying to decide whether she believed him. Then finally she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his.

“I hate when you say wise things.” She muttered.

“I know.” He gave her that classic LJ smirk.

“It ruins my whole intimidating aura.”

“Your aura survived throwing a folding chair at someone on live television.” He laughed. "I'd say that's pretty safe."

“They deserved it.”

“I don't disagree love.”

He felt her smile against him. Outside, rain had started tapping softly against the balcony railing. The city lights blurred faintly through the glass, turning the room gold and silver in the dark. For once, neither of them seemed in a hurry. Alexandra picked her laptop back up slowly. The blinking cursor still waited on the unfinished post.

“You know what the weirdest part is?” she asked.

“What?”

“I thought winning the championship would feel like the ending of something.”

LJ watched her carefully.

“But it doesn’t,” she said. “It feels like the beginning."

A warmth spread through his chest at the certainty in her voice. Because she finally sounded hopeful again. Not guarded. Not exhausted. Hopeful.

“That’s because it is.” he said quietly.

She glanced at him.

“The title,” he continued. “The wedding. Everything that is happening right now. None of it is the finish line.” A small smile pulled at his mouth. “It’s just the next chapter.”

Alexandra stared at him for a second before laughing softly under her breath. “You know I’m stealing that line for the post now.”

“I expect royalties.”

“You’ll get emotional fulfillment.”

“That doesn’t pay rent.”

She rolled her eyes fondly before finally starting to type again. LJ stayed beside her while the words slowly came together. Outside the ring, things have been just as crazy.He read pieces over her shoulder as she wrote, watching her shape the last year into something honest. Not polished. Not fake. Just real. The victories. The pain. The love. The fear.

All of it.

When she finally finished, Alexandra leaned back against the couch with an exhausted sigh. “Done.”

“You want me to read it?” He gave her a playful nudge.

“You already basically did.” She laughed and nudged back.

“True.” He nodded with a big smile.

She hesitated before hitting publish. LJ could see the flicker of anxiety in her eyes again, that old fear of being seen too clearly. So he reached over and covered her hand with his.

“You ready?”

Alexandra looked at him. Really looked at him. And suddenly he could see it all reflected there: every fight they’d survived, every late-night phone call, every injury, every argument, every moment they’d chosen each other again and again despite how messy life became.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

Then she hit the button. For a second, nothing changed. The world didn’t stop spinning. No dramatic music played. No fireworks exploded outside. It was just them, her hand still tangled with his. The rain is still falling softly beyond the balcony. The future waiting for them in all its terrifying, beautiful uncertainty. Alexandra smiled faintly as notifications immediately started flooding the screen.

“Think the internet’s gonna lose its mind over the wedding date?”

“Absolutely.”

“Think Miles is gonna call us obnoxious?”

“Without question.” She laughed again, warmer this time, and curled into his side. LJ kissed her temple gently.

June thirtieth. Their Wedding, a new future, a new life. Something she hadn’t expected to happen. Not an ending, just the start of everything else. Their future, the Era of Calaway-Kasey.

“Love, let’s go to bed, you need to rest and so do I.” LJ smiled and held her close.

“Sounds wonderful.” She watched as he stood and held out his hand.

Taking it the two made their way to their bedroom to get some rest. The weekend was quickly approaching, they needed this time to prepare, rest up and prepare for battle.

---

Everything Happens for a Reason
Indianapolis, Indiana
Fountain Square

A camera comes up on Alexandra who is standing in the middle of Fountain Square. She’s enjoying the moment, just relaxing and taking photos with a few fans before turning back to the camera, there’s so much she needed to say and such a small amount of time to say it in. There was a quick lick of her lips and she nodded, the moment was right here and right now.

"Mercedes Vargas, you are certainly rather full of yourself aren't you. Every time you step out there I want to smack you in the face. Not because you're successful. Not because you've held championships. Not because you've built a reputation for yourself. It's because every time you open your mouth, you act like the entire wrestling world revolves around you. Brace yourself darling, the world doesn’t revolve around you and the sun damn sure doesn’t shoot out your ass.”

She takes a moment to pause, letting what she had to say sink into everyone’s head. She could see some of the fans nod with her in agreement.

"The constant desire to knock the shit out of you, it's not because you're talented. Hell, I'd be lying if I said you weren't. It's because every word that comes out of your mouth sounds like you're trying to convince the world you're something special. You walk around demanding respect while people like me have been earning it. You believe that making demands shows that you are the better competitor. Sure, okay darling we can go with that if it makes you feel so good about yourself."

She smiled for a few moments, just soaking in everything in her head.

“You stand there talking about your legacy, your accomplishments, your greatness. You expect people to bow their heads and thank you for blessing us with your presence. But here's the thing, Mercedes. The world keeps moving. New stars rise. New challengers emerge. And every time somebody starts gaining momentum, you treat it like a personal insult."

She walks over to some of the fans with a bright smile and nods. They wrap their arms around her and she lets out a soft laugh.

"These people right here? They don't care how many times you call yourself a legend. They don't care how many interviews you do talking about your greatness. They care about who shows up when the lights come on. They only care about what they see in that ring. About the blood, the sweat and the tears. The taste of battle."

She knew that her words were hitting hard, that’s what she wanted. She wanted Mercedes to not only hear her words, but feel them.

"You know what I see when I look at you? I don't see confidence. I see fear. I see somebody so terrified of being forgotten that she has to remind everyone who she is every five seconds. You see, I felt like that once upon a time. I felt like I needed to remind everyone by saying it. But I grew out of that. I remind them who I am every single time I step into that ring. Every single match.  Every loss, every win, championship or no championship, I remind everyone that I am Alexandra Calaway, for at least one more month anyways. Then it will be Alexandra Kasey."

That’s right, KASEY. She knew that they were quite public with their relationship, but it hasn’t been openly announced that a date was officially set.

"You look at me and see another name. Just another opponent for you to try to belittle right? Another woman you're going to put down and move past. But when that bell rings, you're going to find out exactly who the hell I am. Because while you've been busy protecting your reputation, I've been building mine. You can think whatever you want about me Mercedes, it’s not going to count for anything in that ring.”

She gives her a smirk and a wink.

“While you've been telling everyone how great you are, I've been proving it. And when I finally get my hands on you, Mercedes, that urge I've had every single time I've seen your face? I won't have to fight it anymore. I'll get to act on it. Then we'll find out whether all that confidence is real or whether it disappears the moment somebody punches you in the mouth."

She takes the time to pause and keeps thinking about the next thing she wants to say, the next way she could get under Mercedes' skin.

"And speaking of reminders, let's talk about last week. Let's talk about the fact that I walked out there, gave everything I had, and still ended the night staring at the lights. You think that broke me, Mercedes? You think that loss somehow made me question myself? No. If anything, it pissed me off. It lit a fire under me that was already burning hot.”

She knew that everyone was coming at her from every side. Cassie Wolfe, Kat Jones and now she had to deal with Mercedes Vargas breathing down her.

“Because I don't know how to do this halfway. I don't know how to shrug my shoulders and move on when things don't go my way. Every loss sticks with me. Every mistake replays in my head. Every second where I come up short becomes fuel. Last week wasn't the end of anything. It was a reminder of exactly how badly I want this.”

She would remind every single person who stepped up by knocking them back down. She would show Mercedes that she wasn’t ready for Victoria.

“And what I want more than anything right now is to keep the Bombshell Internet Championship around my waist. See, to some people it's just another title. Just another championship to add to a résumé. Another accolade to brag about in interviews. But to me? That championship means opportunity. It means validation. It means proving that every sacrifice, every setback, every moment of doubt was worth it. It doesn’t matter if it’s Kat Jones, Cassie Wolfe, or you Mercedes, I’ll fight until you’ve lost or there’s nothing left. You’ll all have to incapacitate me to make it happen. The Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Internet Championship is mine.”

She smiles as LJ walks into frame handing it to her. She takes it and puts it around her waist and he tosses an arm around her shoulder as she continues.

“I've chased championships before. I've held gold before. I understand your motives darling. But right now, the Bombshell Internet Championship represents something bigger. It represents the next step in my career. It represents everything I've been fighting toward every single time I lace up my boots. I understand why you want to face me. You think beating me would prepare you to face Victoria. I think you are forgetting something there darling. I had Victoria’s number when it came to the Bombshell Internet Championship and I gained her respect. You think I won't use this opportunity to soften you up for her. If you think I won't, I have some news for you. I absolutely would.”

She gives a small shrug of her shoulders and then continues, knowing that fact alone might actually bother Mercedes.

“That's why last week's loss still burns. Because every match matters when you're chasing something this important. Every opportunity matters. Every victory gets you closer and every defeat feels like somebody slammed a door in your face.”

She takes a moment, collecting her thoughts, she stepped close to the camera, almost as if telling the viewers a secret.

“The difference is I don't stay down when doors get slammed in my face. I kick the damn thing off its hinges. So if you were hoping to catch me doubting myself after last week, you're out of luck. What you're getting instead is a version of Alexandra Calaway that's angry, motivated, and more dangerous than she's been in a long time. And that's bad news for anybody standing across the ring from me. Main Event baby, it’s show time."

Alexandra gives her a smile and turns to walk away, but stops and looks back over her shoulder.

“See you Sunday.”  She pauses. “Unless you feel like pussying out.”

The camera is shoved away and crackles to static.

PARK TIME!
Europa Park
Rust, Germany

The morning air in Rust carried a soft chill, the kind that made everything feel sharper, the colors brighter, the laughter louder, the anticipation almost electric. Alexandra adjusted the strap of her bag as she stepped through the entrance, her eyes already scanning the park like a kid who had waited too long for this exact moment. Ashlynn had opted to ride something with Kevin and Miles, with the promise of Castle hopping on Saturday.

LJ followed just behind her, grinning at the way she bounced slightly on her heels. “You’re about five seconds away from sprinting, aren’t you?”

“I am trying to act normal,” she said, though her smile betrayed her. “But you don’t understand this place is huge.”

“I can tell,” he said, glancing around at the sprawling paths and themed buildings stretching in every direction. “So what’s first?”

She turned to him with mock seriousness. “Strategy.”

“Oh, we have a strategy now Angel?” He smirked.

“Yes,” she said, nodding firmly. “We get drinks, we hydrate, and then we go straight to the biggest ride before the lines get insane.” She gave him a laugh.

“That sounds suspiciously responsible Love.” LJ gave her a smile in return.

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, already tugging him toward a nearby café.

The small stand had a striped awning and a chalkboard menu written in looping handwriting. Alexandra stepped up confidently while LJ hovered just behind her, watching with interest.

“Hallo,” she said to the cashier, her voice smooth and easy. “Zwei Getränke, bitte. Eine Cola und ein Wasser.”

The cashier nodded, tapping the order into the register. “Möchten Sie noch etwas dazu?”

Alexandra glanced back at LJ. “Do you want anything else?”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

She turned back. “Nein, danke.”

Moments later, she handed LJ the cold bottle of water and took her cola, the condensation already forming under her fingers.

“Show-off,” he teased.

She shrugged lightly. “It’s just ordering drinks."

“Yeah, in another language.” He looked impressed.

“It’s not that hard,” she said, though there was a flicker of pride in her eyes. “You could learn. Come on, you know some latin for law school.”

“I know only how to say ‘beer,’ in German.” he said confidently. “And Law school is a completely different thing altogether, love.”

She laughed. “That will get you far in life.”

They stepped away from the stand and found a small shaded area near a cluster of benches. Around them, families moved in every direction, kids pointing excitedly at distant rides, the faint hum of roller coasters rising and falling in the background.

LJ took a sip of his water and tilted his head. “So the biggest ride? What are we talking about?”

Alexandra’s expression shifted instantly, excited, almost conspiratorial. “It’s called Silver Star.”

“That sounds intense already.”

“It’s one of the tallest in Europe,” she said, her hands starting to move as she spoke. “Huge drops, fast speeds, it's amazing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that like you’ve been on it before.”

“Never,” she said, grinning. “I heard about it, they say if you can ride it, you can ride ANYTHING in park.”

“That’s either a glowing review or a warning.” He looked worried.

“Both,” she admitted.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Alright. Lead the way.”

They tossed their empty bottles and started off, following signs that pointed toward the ride. As they walked, the park seemed to open up even more different themed areas blending into each other, music drifting through the air, the scent of food stalls tempting them at every turn. Alexandra walked a little faster now, her excitement building with every step. LJ noticed and matched her pace.

“You’re really excited about this,” he said.

“I am,” she replied. “It’s just. I don’t know. Rides like that make everything else disappear for a minute.”

He glanced at her, curious. “Disappear?”

“Yeah,” she said, slowing slightly as they approached a wide pathway where the coaster tracks became visible in the distance. “When you’re up there, you’re not thinking about anything else. Just the speed, the height, the feeling.”

LJ followed her gaze, watching as a train of the coaster climbed slowly up a steep incline before vanishing over the top. “Okay,” he said. “That does look insane.”

She smiled. “Good insane.”

“Debatable. Law School doesn't scare me. Wrestling doesn’t scare me. Proposing to you, didn't scare me. This however..” LJ shrugged a bit.

They reached the entrance area, where a line had already begun to form. It wasn’t too bad yet, but it was growing.

“See?” Alexandra said. “We got here just in time.”

He looked at the towering structure again, then back at her. “You’re absolutely sure about this?”

She stepped closer, nudging his arm lightly. “You’ll be fine.”

“That’s what people always say right before something terrifying happens.” He gripped her hand a little.

She laughed. “Trust me.”

There was something in the way she said it light, but sincere that made him relax just a little.

“Alright,” he said, exhaling. “I’m trusting you.”

They joined the line, which moved steadily forward. As they got closer, the sounds of the ride became louder: the clatter of the tracks, the rush of wind, the distant screams that were equal parts fear and exhilaration.

Alexandra shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her excitement barely contained. “I love this part,” she said.

“The waiting?” LJ asked.

“The buildup,” she corrected. “It makes it better.”

He smirked. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

The line continued to move, weaving through barriers and up a set of stairs until they reached the loading platform. The coaster trains pulled in and out in a smooth rhythm, riders stepping off with wide eyes and messy hair.

LJ watched them carefully. “Some of them look like they’ve seen things.”

“They’ve seen greatness.” Alexandra said.

“Uh-huh.” LJ looked at her.

When it was finally their turn, they were directed toward the front row. Alexandra’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she said.

“Front row?” LJ repeated. “We’re doing the front row?”

“We are absolutely doing this in the front row.”

He laughed nervously. “Of course we are.”

They slid into their seats, the restraints coming down securely over their shoulders. Alexandra glanced over at him, her grin wide and infectious. “Ready?”

He took a breath, then nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be Love.”

The train began to move, slowly at first, then turning toward the massive lift hill. The clicking sound of the chain pulling them upward echoed around them, each second stretching longer as the ground fell away beneath their feet. LJ gripped the handles, his eyes flicking between the horizon and Alexandra. She, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, calm, focused, alive in a way that was impossible to miss.

“Look,” she said softly, nodding toward the view.

He was focused on her. "I am.."

"At the view, darling." She blushed.

He did. From the top, the park spread out in every direction, colorful and vibrant under the morning sun. For a brief moment, everything was still. Then they tipped over the edge. The world dropped away in an instant, the rush of air stealing any chance of a scream as gravity took over. The speed hit fast, the track racing beneath them, twists and turns blurring together into pure sensation. LJ’s initial fear dissolved into something else entirely, something wild and exhilarating. Beside him, Alexandra laughed, the sound carried away by the wind. And for those few moments, just like she said, everything else disappeared. No Brandon Hendrix, not drama, just them and a chance to breathe.

---

Walking through fire
Hotel 'Krønasår'
Rust, Germany

Alexandra stood on the balcony of her Presidential Deluxe suite, given to her and LJ while they are on their Theme Park Tour for Sin City Wrestling, on their way to their big wedding day. The moon was full and bright when Alexandra flipped her camera on. She didn’t know much about her opponent for the show, other than Brittany had gone up against Bella recently.

“Your Bombshell Internet Champion is enjoying life right now and doing well. Staying at the Hotel Kronasar, has been an experience in itself. The best part is, I'm getting to do it with my fiance, LJ Kasey. It’s true, we are on the Road to I Do and the Road to Into The Void XV at the same time. Getting here has been a roller coaster, but one I’ve been happy to ride. Not to mention, my kid gets to visit Germany for the first time in her life. There are so many plans and so little time.”

She pulls him into view, letting him wave at the camera and the two share a quick kiss and he wanders back into the room, letting her finish.

“Brittany, now I know you are still kind of new here and to have to face someone like Bella Madison, who is by far one of the most talented women in this company, I dare say this industry, had to be daunting. You held your own for a bit, but then somewhere you messed up didn’t you darling. You couldn’t exactly get that spot and it all went wrong. It’s alright, we all have our days and your last showing just wasn’t the right time.”

She gave a small chuckle, she wanted to give this new face a chance. Going up against a Champion was a big thing, something that Brittany shouldn’t bat her eyelashes at.

“I can promise you, this week won't be any different. I’m on an uptick, with a lot of power, anger and unfinished business behind me. Your newly crowned Bombshell Internet Champion, I fought and crawled through the division to get here and honestly, it was all worth it. Now, you stand between me and my path to Into the Void XV. I plan on going out there and doing what I do best, proving time and time again that I am still the one they all look at.”

She knew Into the Void was rapidly approaching and there was a huge target on her shoulder. And with Brandon Hendrix and his constant need to come at the Kasey family and herself.

“Now I know there’s a chance Hendrix could have hired you or anyone really to try and make an example of me. If he wants to try, that’s fine. I can handle whatever he decides to throw my way. Including his goons getting involved in this match. Come at me all you want. I’ll send you back to whoever put you in my path, broken, bleeding and ready to give up. Because there’s nothing standing in my way anymore.”

She gives the camera a knowing smile.

“And hey Brandon Hendrix, I’m sure you are watching. You want to touch me so bad, come on. Prove you got what it takes to step to me, oh wait, you can’t. You touch me, you get another fine. Maybe it’s time I start collecting fines for attacking you. I can afford it, even with all the wedding planning. You made a choice when you messed with this family. Hell ask Logan Hunter what happens when you do that dumb fuck shit. I’m sure he still remembers what it was like when the floodgates opened on him. Ask him, he will let you know. It’s open season on anyone who might be connected to you from here on out.”

With a wink she continues, closing it off.

“Brittany sorry about that, now I’ll get back to you. I do hope that you are ready for what’s coming your way. I know I’m looking forward to it. Take the time we’ve got in Germany to enjoy yourself, prepare for what’s coming, while I might look like I’m smiling and having the best time ever, know that I am focused on proving myself, every single time I walk out to that ring. I’ll see you Sunday night darling, for now, I’m going to relax with the man I love, spend time with my daughter and my friends, planning the wedding of the year.”

She waves at the camera and it fades to black.

Are you sure you want to do this?
Calaway Estate
Dallas, Texas

“Are you sure about this Ally?” Mika’s voice chimed where they looked down at the plot of earth recently dug up. “Is this really how you want to swing this?”

Alexandra smirked. “She did a whole mock fucking funeral for me, why the hell not? It will fucking shock everyone.”

Mika rolled her eyes a bit. “It shouldn't be hard if it’s done right. Little morning fog, fresh dug earth.”

“I still don’t relish the idea of you burying yourself and digging your way out, Angel.” LJ spoke up. “What if something goes wrong?”

“That’s why they are here.” She motions to the medical team. “To hell with calm and rational, it’s time to do something unhinged and unexpected of me."

LJ stared at her for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes flicking from the open grave to the coffin beside it and then back to her face. The morning air hung damp and gray around them, thin curls of fog dragging across the ground exactly like Mika had predicted. Finally he exhaled through his nose.

“God, I hate this idea, love.” he muttered. “I don’t relish doing this.”

Alexandra’s smirk softened a little. “That’s not a no.”

“No,” he admitted. “It’s not. It's me being uncomfortable with this choice.”

Mika snorted quietly. “Shocking development.”

LJ shot her a look before returning his attention to Alexandra. “You realize the second anything even looks remotely wrong, I’m ripping that coffin open and this whole stunt is over.”

“Fair.” Alexandra smiles at him. “And the med team stays right here.”

Alexandra gestured broadly at the small group nearby. Two paramedics leaned against a truck, watching with the kind of wary patience that said they had been briefed on the absurdity already.

“They aren’t going anywhere.” LJ looked over at them.

One of them raised a hand lazily. “We’re contractually obligated to stay for the chaos.”

Mika folded her arms. “And I’ll be monitoring the timing. This isn’t some horror movie scenario where you disappear underground for half an hour.”

Alexandra rolled her shoulders like she was warming up for a performance. “So we’re doing this.”

There was a quick pause. LJ looked at Mika. Mika looked at the grave. Then she sighed dramatically. “Fine. Screw it. If we’re going to commit to the bit, we commit.”

Alexandra grinned, victorious.

“That’s my girl. Difficult and now I guess I can say unhinged.” He pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t push it,” Mika warned. “And don’t encourage her.”

They moved into motion after that. The coffin lid rested against the side of the open grave, the interior lined with simple white padding that was already collecting little flecks of dirt from the damp air. Alexandra stepped over and looked down into it.

“Well,” she said. “That’s cozy.”

“Alexandra,” LJ said quietly. "Please."

She glanced back at him. His expression had softened in that way it only did when the bravado dropped away. He stepped closer, taking her hands in his.

“You don’t actually have to prove anything to anyone,” he said. “You are already an impressive individual, Angel.”

“I know,” she replied gently. “But this? This will be memorable.”

“That’s one word for it.” LJ kissed her hands.

Mika checked her watch. “The fog's getting thicker. If this is happening, now’s the moment.”

Alexandra took a breath, then climbed carefully into the coffin and settled onto her back. She adjusted her jacket and folded her hands over her stomach like she was posing for a portrait.

“See?” she called. “Natural.”

LJ leaned over the edge, still looking unconvinced. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yet you’re marrying me.” She gave him a quick wink.

“That might be proof I’ve lost my mind.” LJ nodded.

She laughed softly. “Probably.” A soft wink to LJ.

Mika stepped closer to the grave, peering down at Alexandra. “Last chance to back out before we seal you in your dramatic little stage prop.”

Alexandra wiggled slightly to get comfortable. “Nope. Let’s do it.”

The paramedics moved a little nearer, one of them kneeling by the monitoring equipment they’d insisted on using. Everything remained calm, quiet except for the whisper of wind moving through the nearby trees. "Clear."

LJ didn’t reach for the lid yet. Instead, he leaned down into the coffin.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Alexandra tilted her head. “What?”

His hand brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “If this goes wrong I’m going to be extremely annoying about it for the rest of our lives.”

She smiled up at him. “Then I guess we better make sure it doesn’t.”

He hesitated one more second. Then he bent down and kissed her. It wasn’t rushed or nervous, just warm and certain, the kind of kiss that made the whole ridiculous plan feel briefly quiet around the edges. When he pulled back, Alexandra was still smiling.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Now we can go full gothic drama.”

LJ shook his head, though a reluctant grin tugged at his mouth. “You’re impossible. Just make sure you come back to me.”

“I love you too.” Alexandra smiled at him. "I promise I will."

 He finally reached for the coffin lid. Mika stepped up beside him to help guide it into place.

“It’s Showtime,” she said.

Slowly, carefully, they began lowering the lid toward the coffin as the fog thickened around the grave, pouring a couple thin layers of dirt on it and then it was showtime.

---

You thought you did something there
Calaway Estate
Dallas, Texas

A camera comes up on a grave, the tombstone above it reads, Beloved Mother, Sister, and friend. Alexandra Calaway. There's a cracking sound and a sudden blast of dirt upwards and a bloodied hand reaches out of the dirt, ripping through the wood, hands digging their way out. A head snaps up from inside the coffin, dirt and earth falling off the female form. She moved further, crawling her way out of the earth. Crawling up to her knees out of the coffin and taking a deep breath of air. After a few moments she started speaking.

“Victoria Lyons,” Her voice is somber and calm, holding onto the current moment. “Victoria, you and I will forever be entwined in this fight for dominance in this company. You and I are two sides of the same coin, two different people on a parallel path. But the question is, which one of us will pull out on the winning side.”

Dirt fell from her skin, blood dripping from her fists where she dug her way out of the ground. It’s clear that this was her awakening, it seemed Victoria and Alexandra always brought out the darker and better sides of each other.

“Because at the end of all of this, you’ll have to look back and say, was this really worth it?” Finally she exhales slowly, the breath leaving her lungs in a measured release that briefly fogs in the cool night air. Fog pooled around her form. “Was all of this really worth losing my title? Was I too blinded by my greatness to see the truth coming my way? These are all questions I have asked myself before, hundreds of times over.”

She felt the cold air, brushing across her skin, the way her hair blew in the darkness. She looked like something out of a horror film. Something unnatural and extremely uncanny.

“You know, Victoria,” she begins, her voice calm and reflective, “I watched your little performance.  It was really touching. I watched the entire thing from beginning to end, and I have to admit, I was almost impressed by the effort you put into it. Bravo my dear, bravo indeed, you learned from the best, after all.”

She pauses briefly, motioning to herself, the faintest hint of a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth as the memory replays in her mind. That smirk turned into a knowing smile. Alexandra was deep inside Victoria’s head now, practically living rent free.

“The piano playing in the background, the chapel setting, the coffin sitting there with my picture on top of it like some kind of centerpiece, it was theatrical, I’ll give you that. Just like something you’d do. You stood there dressed in black with your championship draped over your shoulder, reading a eulogy about the ‘life and impending death’ of Alexandra Calaway as if the entire world had already gathered to mourn. As if you had already won. I admire your bravado, but only I decide when I'm done.”

Alexandra slowly straightens herself from the grave, folding her arms loosely across her chest as she turns just slightly toward the camera. Her eyes still drift occasionally towards the darkness then back to the camera.

“You even went as far as pulling a photo from my social media,” she continues, her tone still controlled and even. “The one of me and LJ. I remember that night pretty clearly because it was a special moment. We had just finished dinner, we were laughing about something stupid, and someone snapped that photo before either of us even noticed. It was just a moment between two people enjoying a quiet night. But you had to use it to make a spectacle didn’t you? Because that’s what you do.”

She shakes her head slightly, letting out a quiet breath. Alexandra kneels down lifting dirt off the ground from the grave. She applauded slowly, practically a golf clap at this point.

“You called it preparation,” she continued after a moment. “You said that some endings deserve preparation, that what happens at Blaze of Glory is so inevitable that you might as well start planning the funeral ahead of time.”

She stops walking and rests one hand against the tombstone with her name engraved on it.

“The funny thing about funerals, Victoria, is that people usually plan them when they’re absolutely certain someone isn’t coming back. They’re meant for closure, for finality, for the moment when everyone accepts that the story is over.” Her expression hardens slightly as she looks back toward the camera. “But watching that little performance of yours didn’t feel like closure.”

A short pause follows.

“It felt like someone was trying very hard to convince herself that the ending she wants is already written. Like what she thinks really matters in the end. We both know that’s not the case. What matters is what happens in that ring at Blaze of Glory. This time it's different. We both can feel that. I've got the momentum, and that scares you.”

Alexandra pushes herself away from the tombstone and moves to pace, you can tell her normally calm nature is slowly slipping away. Her voice remains calm, but there’s a growing unhinged nature behind her words now.

“You talked a lot about history in that speech,” she says. “You talked about how whenever we’ve shared a ring, you’ve walked away the winner more often than I have. You stood there in front of that coffin and spoke like the outcome of our next match is just another inevitable chapter in the story of Victoria Lyons.”

She nods slowly to herself.

“And you know what? That part is true. You have beaten me before. There have been nights where you stood tall in the center of that ring while I was left staring up at the lights wondering where everything slipped away. Wondering how in the hell was I ever going to make it back to the top.”

Alexandra pauses again, glancing down at the ground beneath her bare feet as if replaying those moments in her mind.

“But what you didn’t mention, Victoria, what you very carefully left out of that eulogy, is just how close those moments actually were.” She lifts her head again, her eyes narrowing slightly as her focus returns to the camera.

“You keep calling me ‘almost.’ Almost beat you. Almost caught you. It almost mattered.” The word lingers in the air between almost choking her. “Almost. Makes you sound no different than most of the people I’ve known in my time in this industry.”

Alexandra lets out a quiet breath through her nose before continuing.

“The funny thing about ‘almost’ is that it means I’ve never been far away. Every single time we’ve stepped into the ring together, I’ve been right there with you. Close enough to make you work harder than you expected, close enough to push you further than you were comfortable going, and close enough to remind you that even the champions people call dominant aren’t untouchable. Iron sharpens iron, remember?”

She resumes walking again, slower this time, her eyes drifting once more toward the distance.

“And every time we’ve faced each other, you’ve needed something to tip the scales in your favor. Sometimes it was momentum. Sometimes it was timing. Sometimes it was the circumstances lining up just right.” Her gaze sharpens slightly. “And sometimes, it was just stupid blind luck luck.”

Alexandra stops again near the tombstone, resting her hands against it while looking into the camera. “Now we’re heading toward Blaze of Glory, and you’re telling the entire world that this match is nothing more than another page in your reign. You’re telling everyone that history favors you, that the story has already been written and that I’m just another name waiting to be added to the list of people who tried and failed.”

She slowly shakes her head.

“But history doesn’t stay frozen forever.” Her fingers tap lightly against the marble slab under her fingers. “Records change. Reigns end. Dynasties that once looked unbreakable eventually find the moment where the ground beneath them finally cracks.”

Alexandra glances up toward the camera again, hair falling into her face

“You also brought up Alicia Lukas in that speech of yours,” she continues. “You said she caught you on a night when you weren’t perfect, that she managed to beat you only because you had one imperfect moment.”

Her expression turns thoughtful again.

“That’s interesting, Victoria, because the greatest champions I’ve ever watched didn’t get to decide when perfection showed up. They didn’t get to look back on a loss and explain it away by saying it happened on the wrong night.”

She pushes away from the railing and begins walking again.

“Matches don’t wait for perfect nights. Opponents don’t step aside just because a champion says they’re not at their best. If anything, those are the moments that define who someone really is.” Her gaze sharpens again. “And challengers certainly don’t wait.”

The wind picks up slightly as she walks toward the camera, folding her arms across her chest.

“You also said something else that caught my attention. You said you don’t make the same mistakes twice. You said that what happened against Alicia Lukas won’t happen again because this time your championship is on the line.”

She pauses, studying the thought. “But I think you already made the same mistake again without even realizing it.” Alexandra turns fully toward the camera now, her expression calm but unmistakably focused.

“You underestimated somebody. It seems you always do that when it comes to me.” She lets the words sit in the air for a moment before continuing. “And now you’re standing there trying to convince yourself that you won’t do it again.”

Her gaze softens slightly as she looks away from the camera, the moonlight reflecting faintly in her eyes.

“Then there was the part where you mentioned LJ,” she says quietly. “You talked about him like he’s some kind of weakness for me, like saying his name is supposed to rattle me or distract me from what’s waiting in that arena.” She shakes her head gently. “He’s not my weakness.” Her voice carries a subtle warmth now.

“He’s the person who sees everything that happens when the cameras aren’t around. He sees the training sessions that stretch long past midnight, the injuries that never fully heal, and the days when walking hurts but quitting would hurt even more.” Alexandra glances back toward the camera. “And he knows exactly what kind of person I become when someone underestimates me.”

The wind sweeps across the gravesite again as she takes a slow step forward.

“You said patience is my strategy,” she continues. “You said I believe that if I stand firm long enough, eventually you’ll make a mistake.” She nods once. “You’re right about one thing. I am patient. I’m very patient.” Her gaze drifts back toward darkness one last time.

“But patience isn’t standing still. Patience isn’t waiting around hoping something changes.” Her eyes sharpen with quiet intensity. “Patience is watching. It’s learning. It’s studying every move someone makes until the moment comes when the champion finally slips.”

Alexandra takes another step closer to the camera.

“But it isn’t just patience that keeps me going, it never has been just patience, it’s also resilience. You know that thing it seems every opponent keeps hating about me. I don’t give up when I lose, I just push harder and faster in the next round.”

She took a moment to think about everything again.

“You think I’ve been standing still all this time, Victoria, but every match we’ve had, every encounter we’ve shared, every moment where you walked away thinking you proved something.” She pauses briefly. “I was learning. Adapting.” Her voice lowers slightly as she finishes. “And now we’re here.” She glances back toward the arena glowing in the distance.

“Blaze of Glory.” The name hangs in the air like a promise.

“You planned my funeral, Victoria. You brought a coffin and wrote a eulogy about how Alexandra Calaway will always be the one who almost got Victoria Lyons.”

A faint smile appears across her face. “But you forgot something very remarkable when you planned that short ceremony.” She takes one step near the camera. “You should always make sure the person you’re burying is actually dead first.”

Alexandra turns back toward the skyline of Fort Worth as the wind moves across the yard. “Because when we walk into that arena at Blaze of Glory,” she says quietly, “there’s only going to be one funeral that night.” She pauses before finishing. “And we’re about to find out whose name actually belongs on that headstone.”

She walks towards the camera now, slower and almost ghostlike. “See you Sunday your highness.” With that she disappears from view.

Precious Moments
Kasey-Calaway Home

The sunlight peeked in through their bedroom window, sliding through the thin gap in the curtains and spilling across the bed in a soft wash of gold. It warmed Alexandra’s shoulder first, then her cheek, coaxing her gently from sleep. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, and became aware of the steady rise and fall of the body pressed against hers.

LJ was still asleep. He had rolled toward her sometime in the night, and now his arm was wrapped securely around her waist, his hand fisted loosely in the fabric of her shirt as if even in his dreams he needed to make sure she was there. His leg was tangled with hers beneath the blankets, warm and heavy, keeping her anchored in place.

She shifted just enough to see his face. Sleep softened him. The usual spark in his expression was replaced by something peaceful, almost boyish. His lashes rested against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted with each slow breath. A faint line marked his pillow where he’d pressed into it, and his hair was a mess, falling across his forehead in a way that would normally drive him crazy. Alexandra smiled.

Carefully, she lifted her hand and brushed the hair away from his eyes. Her fingers lingered against his temple, tracing the familiar curve of his face. “You’re so handsome when you’re not being stubborn,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the hum of the ceiling fan. He didn’t wake. But he made a soft, sleepy sound and pulled her closer.

The movement was instinctive. His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her flush against his chest until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. His chin dipped, resting lightly against the top of her head. She could feel the warmth of his breath in her hair.

“Okay,” she murmured, smiling at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She let her palm slide over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her hand. It beat strong and sure, a quiet reminder that this was real. That he was real. That this life they were building together wasn’t some fragile dream that would dissolve with the morning light.

“I love you,” she whispered softly. The words settled into the space between them, simple and true. He shifted slightly, his fingers flexing at her back, but he stayed asleep.

His body responded to her voice even if his mind didn’t. He tucked her in closer, his nose brushing faintly against her temple in a sleepy nuzzle that made her breath catch.

Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “I can’t wait to marry you,” she continued quietly, her fingers tracing absent patterns against his chest. “I can’t wait to call you my husband. To wake up like this every morning for the rest of our lives.”

The sunlight crept higher, catching on the curve of his cheekbone and turning his skin warm gold. She watched it move, watched the way it made him look almost unreal.

“I can’t wait for the loud mornings,” she went on softly. “The messy ones. The days we’re running late and arguing over who forgot to set the coffee maker.” She smiled to herself. “I can't even wait for the hard days. As long as it’s with you.”

He inhaled deeply, and for a second she thought he might wake. But instead, he only tightened his hold again, one broad hand sliding slowly up her back in a lazy, unconscious motion. It settled between her shoulder blades, warm and protective.

She pressed her face closer to his chest, breathing him in. “You don’t even know how much you mean to me,” she whispered. “How safe you make me feel. How steady everything feels when you’re next to me.” Her fingers curled lightly into his shirt.

“I used to wonder what forever would look like,” she admitted quietly. “And now I know. It looks like this. Sunlight and you half-asleep and refusing to let me move.”

As if to prove her point, LJ shifted again and pulled her impossibly closer, his leg hooking more firmly around hers. His lips brushed clumsily against her hair in another unconscious kiss. Alexandra laughed under her breath.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said fondly. “You’re not even awake and you’re still making me fall in love with you.”

She lifted her head just enough to press a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heart. The steady thump beneath her lips made her close her eyes for a moment.

“I promise I’m going to love you like this forever,” she whispered. “Even when we’re old and grumpy. Even when you steal all the blankets. Even when you pretend you don’t want to cuddle.”

He made a low sound in his sleep, something between a sigh and a hum, and buried his face more securely against her. His hand tightened once more at her back, as if sealing some silent agreement. She smiled, blinking back the sudden sting of happy tears.

“I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives,” she said softly. “I can’t wait to build everything with you. Every holiday, every ordinary Tuesday, every late-night conversation. All of it. I want all of it with you.”

The room remained quiet except for their breathing. The sunlight now fully bathed the bed, wrapping them in warmth, but neither of them moved. Alexandra settled against him again, letting her weight sink into the solid comfort of his embrace. She felt small there, protected and cherished in a way that didn’t need grand gestures or dramatic declarations.

Just this. Just him holding her, even in sleep. “I love you, LJ,” she whispered one last time. He didn’t wake. But his arms stayed wrapped around her, firm and sure, as if even in his dreams he already knew.

---

Never Gonna Stop
Unknown Location

The iron gate does not swing so much as it complains, a long, tired groan rolling out into the evening as Alexandra lays her hand on cold metal and persuades it to open. The hinge sounds like it has remembered every season it has endured, every storm that has rattled its bones, every time someone crossed this threshold with grief in their throat and flowers trembling in their hands, and it resents the living enough to make them work for it. Alexandra does not. She applies pressure with the steady ease of someone who expects the world to yield when she asks, and the gate gives way just enough for her to pass through, the iron brushing the lace of her sleeve as if testing the texture, as if curious whether this woman is velvet or blade.

“That was like a welcome home..” She looked at the iron gate as she spoke.

She steps into the cemetery and the air changes, not dramatically, not like a door slamming shut behind her, but like a slow exhale, a subtle shift that presses the scent of damp earth and standing water closer to her skin. Spanish moss hangs thick from the oaks, trailing in gray-green veils that sway gently, stroking one another as though whispering. The ground is softer than it ought to be, a skin of moss and slick grass over mud that remembers rain and refuses to dry, and between leaning headstones the swamp has begun its quiet invasion, black water pooling in shallow basins where it reflects pieces of twilight sky. Fireflies drift in lazy arcs, their light blinking like distant lanterns across a forgotten yard, and somewhere beyond the fence frogs sing with the steady confidence of creatures that have never needed permission to survive.

Alexandra’s dress belongs to this place the way candlelight belongs to a parlor, not because it is modest, but because it is deliberate. Black lace overlays pale silk that catches what little light filters through the canopy, the fabric moving in soft, controlled waves with each step, the bodice fitted in a way that shapes her posture into something unyielding and regal, while the neckline curves with a femininity that is not offered so much as possessed. The sleeves are sheer lace, intricate patterns crawling along her arms like shadowed vines, and the skirt trails behind her like a slow, whispering promise. A velvet ribbon circles her throat, anchored by an antique brooch that looks like it has been worn through funerals and weddings alike, and the faint scent of jasmine follows her, warmed by something darker beneath it, something earthen and sweet like crushed petals pressed into damp soil.

She closes the gate behind her with careful finality, letting it meet the post with a low clang that echoes across the graves and settles into the humid air. She stands there a moment, fingertips resting against the iron, her head tilted slightly as though listening to the cemetery’s response, and when she speaks her voice is smooth enough to be mistaken for kindness until the meaning settles in.

“Now this,” she murmurs, eyes sliding over the rows of stones, “is a place that understands consequences. A place that understands finality.”

She begins to walk, unhurried, the camera catching the slow glide of her hand along the tops of headstones as though she is greeting old acquaintances. Names blur beneath lichen, dates soften, marble edges wear down into gentler shapes, and the cemetery seems less like a map of the dead and more like a ledger of time’s patience, a reminder that everything eventually lies down and stays quiet. Alexandra’s boots sink slightly with each step, leaving impressions that darken as water seeps up around them, and she does not hurry to keep her hem dry, because she is not here to be careful.

“You’ve been talking, Bea,” she says, her voice carrying through the open air as if she expects the trees to relay it, as if she expects the swamp to keep record. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You always did enjoy the sound of your own outrage, like it’s a hymn you can sing until it becomes holy.”

She stops beside a tilted headstone, one that leans toward the path as if trying to listen, and she traces the carved letters with a fingertip, slow and thoughtful, her nail catching in a groove where the stone has cracked. She looks at it like she’s considering whether the name still matters, then turns her gaze back toward the darkness between the oaks, toward a presence that is not there but will be, toward a rival who exists in Alexandra’s words whether Bea is listening or not.

“You want to call it cheating,” Alexandra continues, tone warm as candle wax, “because that’s easier than admitting what really happened. Cheating means you were wronged. Cheating means you were robbed. Cheating means you don’t have to look at yourself and ask what it is you lack.”

Her smile is slow, almost indulgent, as if she’s humoring a child’s tantrum.

“But I was there,” she says, and the softness in her voice turns into something sharper without raising its volume. “I stood across from you. I saw your eyes. I felt the way you tried to force the moment to bend toward you, like willpower alone could rewrite the ending.”

She takes another step, and the ground dips toward a shallow pool of swamp water that has spilled into the cemetery’s belly, dark and reflective, collected between graves like spilled ink. Alexandra lifts her skirt just enough to keep the lace from dragging, not out of delicacy but out of preference, and she steps into the water with calm certainty, boots breaking the surface and sending slow ripples outward. The water is cool against her ankles, and the reflection of her dress fractures into wavering shapes, black lace becoming shadow, pale silk becoming moonlight, the entire image trembling as if the swamp itself is unsettled by her presence.

“I didn’t cheat you,” she says, looking down at the water as though it might show her the match again if she stares hard enough. “I beat you.”

She lets the words hang. She does not rush to fill the silence. Somewhere in the trees something rustles, a small sound, perhaps a bird shifting, perhaps nothing at all, and it feels like the cemetery is holding its breath, listening for what comes next.

“I beat you,” she repeats, quieter this time, as if the repetition is not for emphasis but for pleasure, as if she enjoys the feel of truth on her tongue. “Clean. Clear. And the only reason it gnaws at you like rot in the bone is because you walked in believing you were entitled to an outcome you hadn’t earned.”

She wades through the pool and steps onto higher ground, the hem of her gown catching a faint sheen of water that clings like dew, and she does not bother to wipe it away. Instead she drifts toward a weathered statue, an angel whose face has been softened by time until its features are barely there, less expression than suggestion. Spanish moss has gathered around its shoulders like a stole, and Alexandra reaches up to lift it away, fingers combing through the strands slowly, almost sensually, as though she is undressing the stone.

“You demanded another chance,” she says, eyes on the statue as her hand strokes along its wing, which is chipped at the edge. “Not because you’re noble. Not because you’re brave. Not because you love the fight.” She turns her head slightly, gaze sharpening as if she can see Bea standing between two headstones, arms crossed, chin lifted, indignation painted across her face like war paint.

“You demanded another chance because you can’t stand losing to me,” Alexandra continues, and now the cruelty in her voice becomes unmistakable, not loud, not screaming, but steady as a knife pressed into skin. “Because you can’t stand that I am the proof. The proof that all your noise, all your insistence, all your righteous little speeches don’t mean a God damn thing when the bell rings and the only thing that matters is who can take it and who can’t.”

She drags her fingers from the angel’s wing down to the cold stone shoulder, then lets her hand fall away and continues walking, deeper into the cemetery where the graves begin to lean more sharply, where the ground looks less tended, less visited, and the swamp’s encroachment grows bolder.

“Death comes for all in the end.” a smirk. “I’m not talking about literal death here, I’m talking about the death of belief in your skill.” The water gathers in larger pools here, dark and glossy, and roots twist up through the soil like knuckles, breaking the surface in slow, patient rebellion. Fireflies blink in clusters near the ground, their soft light reflecting in the water like scattered beads.

“I remember the end,” Alexandra says, voice turning almost conversational, as if she is recounting a story at a dinner table with a silver fork in her hand. “I remember you trying to twist away, trying to scramble for leverage like you could negotiate with gravity, like you could bargain with pain.”

She pauses beside a grave whose marker has sunk so far that only the top edge shows above the mud. She crouches slowly, lace folding around her knees like dark petals, and she places her fingertips on the exposed stone as if steadying it. “Just like this moment, I’m already staring your future in the face. The death of your dreams.” The swamp water laps quietly at the base, and Alexandra’s reflection hovers in the surface, a pale throat, a dark ribbon, a mouth curved in calm contempt.

“You felt it, hell Amelia felt it, I felt it.” she says softly, eyes on the water. “That moment when the match stopped being your story and started being mine.” She stands again with controlled grace, brushing her fingertips together as if removing invisible dust, and then she smiles, the sort of smile that suggests she is enjoying herself.

“I don’t need to embellish,” Alexandra continues. “I don’t need to invent. I don’t need to tell people what happened like it’s folklore.” Her gaze lifts, steady and unblinking, as if she is staring straight into Bea’s future. “The record already tells it, and your body remembers it.”

She walks on, the path narrowing, the moss hanging lower, brushing her shoulders like a lover’s hand. She does not flinch or duck. She allows it. Her fingers reach up and trail through the moss as she passes, the strands slipping between her knuckles, leaving faint dampness behind. The camera catches the way she touches the world, not like a tourist, not like someone passing through, but like a woman reminding the land who it belongs to.

“You want to talk like the Bombshell internet title like it was stolen from you,” she says, voice softening into something almost pitying, which somehow makes it worse. “As if it ever belonged in your hands. As if you ever held it in your spirit. You don't even have it yet.”

She laughs quietly, a low sound that feels like a door closing somewhere deep inside an old house. “Bea,” Alexandra murmurs, “I didn’t take your chance. I took your fantasy and I broke it in front of you.”

She stops near a cluster of wildflowers blooming in stubborn defiance beside a cracked headstone, pale petals glowing faintly in the twilight. She bends and plucks one flower from its stem with careful fingers, lifting it to her nose as if inhaling something delicate and precious. The gesture is soft, feminine, almost tender, but the look in her eyes is not.

“Smells sweet,” she says, still holding the flower, her voice warm with mock appreciation. “That’s the trouble with sweetness, though. It fools people into thinking it can’t rot.” She drops the flower into a pool of swamp water beside the stone and watches it float for a moment before the petals begin to darken at the edges, soaking, sinking. “That’s you,” she says lightly, turning away as if she has already dismissed the matter. “Pretty noise until the moment it meets real weight.”

She moves toward a family plot enclosed by rusted iron fencing. The gate is crooked, hanging slightly, and she pushes it open with a slow squeal of metal, stepping inside with the ease of someone entering a private garden. The air feels a degree cooler here, the shadows deeper, the stones larger and older, and Alexandra circles the central monument once, fingertips trailing along the iron rail as if tracing a boundary.

“You ever notice,” she says, voice carrying through the enclosure, “how wrestlers build these little fences like they think iron can keep the world from changing?” Her fingers tighten briefly around the rail, and when she speaks again the sweetness leaves her voice, replaced by a calm, lethal certainty.

“You built yourself a fence too,” she says. “You built a story where you’re the wronged woman, where you’re the one who deserves, where every obstacle is unfair and every outcome that isn’t yours is a theft.” She releases the rail and rests her hand on the monument, palm flat, as if claiming it. “And then you ran into me,” Alexandra continues, the words slow and heavy, “and I showed you what happens when fences meet storms.”

She steps back out of the plot and lets the gate swing shut behind her with a soft clang that feels like punctuation. The swamp hums around her, alive with insects, and the sky deepens toward night, the last traces of gold fading into bruised purple. Somewhere in the distance thunder murmurs low, not yet a threat, but a promise.

“That’s what happens, when you step into the ring with me. By now, I figured you would know this for a fact.”

Alexandra begins to follow a narrow trail leading away from the densest graves, and the silhouette of the church emerges through the trees ahead, a crooked steeple rising against the darkening sky. The building looks like it has been abandoned for decades, paint peeled away into strips, boards warped and swollen, windows shattered into jagged mouths. Vines creep along its walls like veins, and Spanish moss drapes from the eaves as though the church itself wears mourning.

Alexandra slows as she approaches, not because she is hesitant, but because she wants the moment to last. She steps carefully onto the first porch board, and it groans beneath her weight, a long, complaining sound that echoes into the trees. She smiles at that, as if amused by how everything in this place insists on speaking. “You hear it?” she asks, tone gentle, almost intimate, as though Bea is standing close enough to feel her breath. “Even the wood complains when I walk on it.” She takes another step. The board creaks again. “That’s power,” Alexandra murmurs, and the word sounds like silk drawn slowly across skin. “Not the kind you beg for, not the kind you demand with tantrums and petitions.”

She reaches the door and runs her fingers along the weathered wood, tracing the grooves carved by time, her nail catching on a splinter that lifts like a tiny tooth. She does not flinch. She presses her thumb against it until it snaps, then wipes her hand against the side of her skirt with slow, elegant precision.

“Bea,” she says, voice low, “you demanded a match like you were calling a servant to fetch you tea, like you could ring a bell and the world would hurry to please you.” She leans closer to the door, and for a moment her reflection wavers in the dark, cracked pane beside it, her pale throat framed by black lace, her eyes steady and cruel. “I’m not your servant,” she murmurs. “And I’m not your salvation.”

She pushes the door open slowly. The hinge groans like something waking from a long sleep, and the smell inside is different, cooler, layered with dust and old wood and the faint hint of mildew, as if the building has been breathing quietly all these years and no one has noticed. Moonlight spills through broken windows in pale beams, illuminating floating dust motes that drift like slow snowfall. The pews sit in rows, coated in a thin layer of time, their edges worn smooth by hands that are long gone.

“I’m your reaper, your end. We both are veterans here, let’s not get that twisted my dear. I’ve been around Sin City Wrestling isn’t my first company, but it’s become my home.”

Alexandra steps inside and the sound of her boots changes, no longer sinking into mud, now echoing softly against warped floorboards. The church feels hollow, but not empty. It holds its own quiet, as if it remembers every prayer ever spoken here and keeps them pressed into the walls like dried flowers.

“Listen, soak it all in.” She walks down the aisle slowly, fingertips gliding along the backs of pews as she passes, leaving faint tracks in the dust, a visible sign of her presence. Her dress brushes the wood with soft whispers, and the lace catches faintly on a splintered corner before slipping free. She pauses, not at the front yet, but halfway down, turning her head slightly as if listening to the building.

“Can you feel it?” she asks, voice soft, intimate, the question aimed at Bea but also at the space itself. “How quiet it gets when it’s honest.”

She resumes walking, and with each step the echo follows her, gentle and persistent, as if the church is repeating her words back in its own language.

“You want to rewrite what happened,” Alexandra says, her tone returning to that calm, controlled cruelty that feels like cold water poured slowly. “You want to pretend the match was stolen, that the outcome was unfair, that the universe owes you a correction. You want to pretend like it was everyone’s fault, except your own. Who’s really to blame for your shortcomings?”

She stops near the front, where the pulpit stands, wood worn and cracked, and she rests her hand upon it, palm flat, as if claiming the only throne she needs. The moonlight catches on the lace of her sleeve, turning it briefly into something silver.

“But the truth,” she continues, gaze steady, “does not care about your feelings. Nor do I. I have a goal in mind.”

She trails her fingers along the pulpit’s edge, collecting dust on her fingertips, then lifts her hand and rubs the dust between her thumb and forefinger as if testing its texture. “This dust,” she murmurs, “is what happens when time keeps going whether you win or lose.”

She turns slowly, facing the rows of pews as though addressing an unseen congregation, as though the church is full of witnesses who have come to watch Bea’s pride be dismantled.

“I beat you,” Alexandra says again, and this time the words land like a final nail driven into wood. “Not because I got lucky, not because I cheated, not because anyone handed me a gift.” Her lips curve into a slow smile, sensual and cold all at once. “I beat you because I wanted it more than you did,” she says, “and because I understood something you still refuse to understand.”

She steps away from the pulpit and begins to walk along the front of the church, slow and deliberate, trailing her fingers along the edge of a broken altar rail. The wood is splintered, rough, and she lets it scrape lightly against her skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind her body that the world has teeth.

“You think you can demand your way into power,” Alexandra continues, voice low, smooth, relentless. “But power isn’t something you ask for, Bea.” She stops, tilting her head, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “It’s something you embody,” she murmurs. “It’s something that changes the room when you enter it. It’s something you take.”

She gestures lightly, letting her hand sweep across the empty church as if presenting it, as if this decaying place is her ballroom and the moss outside is her curtain. “And I changed everything the moment you stood across from me,” she says softly. Her gaze hardens, the sensual warmth sharpening into a merciless edge.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Alexandra continues, her voice steady as a vow. “You can keep buzzing and whining, you can keep clinging to the story that protects your pride, you can keep telling anyone who will listen that you were cheated.”

She pauses, allowing the silence to deepen, allowing the church to hold her words like a sermon. “And then you can step into the ring with me again,” she says, “and I will do what I do best.” Her smile returns, slow and terrible. “I will take that story from you,” Alexandra murmurs, “and I will crush it in front of you until all that’s left is the truth.”

She steps back toward the pulpit, resting her hand upon it once more, posture tall and composed, lace and silk and shadow, aristocratic queen and swamp witch all at once, as though she belongs to both candlelight and mud, to both velvet and bone.

“And Bea,” she adds, voice soft, intimate, carrying through the empty church like a whisper sliding under a door, “the next time you come looking for justice…”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing with quiet delight. “Make sure you’re ready to meet it.”

She lets the silence linger, the church swallowing the last of her words, and she stands there in the pale spill of moonlight, one hand resting on the pulpit like a crown set gently on a throne, as the swamp outside continues its slow, inevitable rise.

Silence is deafening
Kasey Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada

The apartment settled into silence slowly, like it was deciding whether or not to trust it. Alexandra stood in the kitchen after the door closed behind her daughter, listening to the echo of footsteps fade down the hall. Fifteen was old enough to leave without fanfare, no frantic reminders, no clinging at the door. Just a nimble hug, a distracted “Text you later,” and the sound of independence moving away. She exhaled and let the calm arrive.

LJ had already left earlier that morning, law books stacked in his bag, gear stowed away like he was attempting not to let those two worlds bleed into each other too much. Law school demanded structure. Wrestling demanded sacrifice. He somehow gave both what they asked for, even when it cost him sleep. Now the apartment belonged to her. Not empty.

Just still. Quiet. The silence gave her way too much time to think.

Alexandra poured herself coffee she didn’t really want and leaned against the counter, the mug warming her palms. Morning light stretched across the living room floor, catching dust motes and the faint scuff marks from boots kicked off in a hurry. A pre-calculus textbook half haphazardly abandoned on the dining table, a hastily written note slapped onto the page in her daughter’s messy handwriting. Evidence of a life in motion. She turned her left hand slowly.

The engagement ring glinted in the sunlight, unapologetic. It looked different on her hand than it had in the box the night she opened it from the puzzle box, less new now, further integrated. Like it belonged there. Like it had always been waiting for the rest of her life to catch up. Alexandra rubbed her thumb over the band, grounding herself. Engaged. A mother. A fighter. None of those things canceled the others out, no matter how badly some people wanted them to. Her thoughts slid, inevitably, toward Seleana and the upcoming Bombshell Internet Qualifier.

The match sat hard in her chest, not with fear but with awareness. Seleana wasn’t just perilous because of her skill, though she was identical, identical in a good way. She was perilous because she represented a version of the path Alexandra might have taken under different circumstances. No child waiting at home. No partner splitting time between law briefs and ring tape. Just extraordinary focus, sharpened into a blade. People would compare them. They already were. Alexandra knew the whispers. Knew the implication threaded through every analysis and preview.

Has Alexandra lost her edge? Is it possible that the end was coming for her?

She scoffed softly and took a sip of coffee, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. If anything, she felt sharper now. No loss of focus. Less reckless. Hunger didn’t always look like desperation. Sometimes it looked like control. She crossed the living room and knelt beside her gear bag, unzipping it slowly. The smell immediately hit leather, sweat, and wrist tape. Comforting. Familiar. She ran her hands over the contents like a ritual, feeling her pulse steady. She imagined Seleana across the ring. The tension. Their stare down. The moment where instinct took over and everything else fell away. Seleana wasn’t new to Alexandra, nor was she to Seleana, they had fought several times before, would this one be any different? Despite everything to the contrary, Alexandra knew not to underestimate her.

Underestimating your opponent could be your downfall. And she couldn’t do that again, she had doubted others before and look where that landed her.

And she imagined LJ nearby. Not hovering. Never hovering. Just ever present, as he had been.  Backstage if time allowed it. Ringside if he could swing it. It was always touching that she could find him in the chaos, always more than enough that she knew without looking that someone who understood the cost was watching. A sound at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. The jingle of keys in the lock. A familiar rhythm. Boots hitting the floor. He was home, right when the world seemed to get too quiet.

Alexandra straightened just as LJ’s voice carried down the hall. “Angel?”

“In here” He appeared moments later, jacket slung over one shoulder, law books peeking out of his bag. There was tape still wrapped around his wrists, the edges somewhat frayed, and a faint bruise darkening on his forearm. Training, she guessed. Or sparring that had gone a little harder than planned.

“Thought you had class all afternoon,” she said. “And then training.”

“Professor let us out early,” he replied. “Cold-called half the room and then after a bit of training I decided that was enough suffering for one day.”

She smiled despite herself. His eyes went immediately to her hand. They always did. Not because he needed reassurance, but because he still seemed quietly amazed. “There it is,” he said softly, reaching for her. She let him take her hand, their fingers fitting together with ease. His thumb brushed the ring, callused and gentle. “You okay?” he asked.

Alexandra hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just, the quiet got too loud.”

LJ hummed in understanding and stepped closer, resting his forehead against hers. He smelled like soap and sweat and something distinctly him. “Thinking about Seleana,” he said.

“Is it that obvious?” She took a deep breath trying to steel herself.

“Only if you know what it looks like when you’re already in fight mode.” He nodded.

She snorted. “You mean brooding?”

“I mean focused, Angel.”

She leaned into him, arms circling his waist. His hands settled at her back without hesitation, grounding, steady.

“They’re going to tear this match apart, tear me apart.” She said quietly. “I just want to actually do something worth it this time. I feel like my life is turning into a storyline.”

“Our lives aren’t a storyline,” LJ replied. “Even if you think it is starting to be.”

Alexandra tilted her head back to look at him. “Does it ever bother you? That people think I’ll hesitate now? That I'm being labeled a choke artist.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, right over the ring. “They don’t know you,” he said simply. “And they don’t understand that having something real to fight for doesn’t make you weaker.”

Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “I just feel like I’m starting to fail you, failing my daughter and myself.”

“You aren’t failing anyone, love. Not me, not Ash,” he added. “I’ll be there, I always am. If I’m not backstage, I’ll be ringside. You know I will..”

She smiled, that quiet, fierce smile that only came out around him. “You always are.”

“Occupational hazard,” he said lightly with a smirk that made her blush. “Law school teaches patience. Wrestling teaches loyalty.”

She laughed softly and pulled him into a kiss, unhurried, familiar, full of shared history. When they broke apart, Alexandra rested her forehead against his chest.

“Can we just stay like this for a little bit?” She asked. “Before we both have to go back to being responsible adults.”

“Absolutely,” LJ said.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly.

“For what love?”

“Always being the voice of reassurance.”

They settled onto the couch together, Alexandra tucked into his side, his arm solid and reassuring around her shoulders. Outside, the city continued to move. Inside, the moment held. Her fingers found the ring again, not because she needed reassurance, but because it reminded her of exactly who she was.

And why she wasn’t afraid. Why she never gave up. She had her family, which was growing with the addition of the Kasey's.

---

Moments of Light
Forestiere Underground Gardens
Fresno, California

LJ and Alexandra took in some of the sights of the Forestiere Underground Gardens, she found a spot, knowing she needed to say something about her match against Seleana. Despite having said so much about her opponent before in previous matches they had. There really wasn’t much else she could say. Perhaps it shouldn’t be about Seleana, after all, Alexandra had been taking her own round of losses lately. Taking a few moments after the camera came on, she gave a few moments to pause, before a soft laugh leaves her lips. She wasn’t going to wait any longer. 

“Seleana, damn. Here we are again, what is this, the fifth time? Goodness, after a while you’d think you’d get tired of losing to me. This time however, I seem to be on a downward spiral, so you might get lucky, right? After all, every time it’s a big one, I never manage to get the job done. We had the two failures at getting my hands on the World Bombshell Championship, my countless failed attempts at regaining the Bombshell Roulette Championship. The failed attempts at the Mix Tag Titles when they existed.”

She pauses and moves around a bit.

“Now here we are, another title shot in the balance. Which leaves everyone, including myself asking can I do it? I know I can. But the question here is darling, do you? Do you believe enough in yourself to get past me?”

Alexandra lets the question hang in the cool underground air, the calm broken only by rich footsteps and the soft echo of water somewhere rich within the Gardens. She exhales slowly, eyes tracing the carved stone walls about her as if they might offer answers. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier, further grounded, like she has settled into the truth she is about to say.

“You know, people love to keep score. They love numbers. Four times before this, five times now. Wins, losses, streaks, slumps. They look at the past like it is a prophecy. Like because something happened before, it has to happen again. And I get it. History matters. Ours especially. Because every time you and I cross paths, something shifts. Careers bend a little. Confidence gets tested. Egos get bruised.”

She turns slightly, brushing her fingers on the stone, eyes focused now, intent.

“But here is the part nobody ever talks about. None of those matches were easy. Not for me. Not for you. Every single time, I had to dig deeper than I wanted to. I had to take shots that would have put people down for good. And every time, you kept coming back for more. So no, I do not think you are some pushover who just walks into the ring and hands me another win. You never were. You never will be.”

Alexandra pauses again, nodding slowly, acknowledging something important.

“And maybe that is why this one feels different. Not because of the title shot on the line, though let us not pretend that is nothing. The Bombshell Internet Championship is not some consolation prize. It is visibility. It is relevance. It is proof that you belong in every conversation that matters. This feels different because I am not walking in with momentum. I am not walking in with the full world behind me, convinced that Alexandra Calaway cannot lose. I also know who's waiting for me at the end of this, should I make it. Victoria Lyons.”

She gives a small smile, but there is no humor in it.

“I have been knocked down. Publicly. Repeatedly. I have heard it all. That I choke when it counts. That I cannot finish the story. That I shine bright until the lights get too hot. And maybe some of that is fair. Maybe I have not always lived up to my own expectations. That stings further than anything anyone else could always say.”

Her gaze lifts, eyes perceptive now, fire returning.

“But here is what people forget. I am still here. I did not disappear. I did not hide. I did not ask for time off to lick my wounds and hope everyone forgot. I kept showing up. I kept fighting. I kept putting myself in positions where failure was possible, because I refused to play it safe. I refuse to sit back and wait till the inevitable end. I refuse to give up, even when others think I should.”

She takes a step forward, as if closing distance between her and the camera.

“So Seleana, when you ask yourself if you believe enough in yourself to get past me, you better understand what stands in front of you. Not a woman clinging to past glory. Not a name living off old wins. You are facing someone who has been stripped down to the rawest version of herself multiple times and yet, still comes back. Someone who knows exactly what it feels like to fall short and still chooses to walk back into the fire.”

Alexandra folds her arms loosely, shoulders squared.

“This fifth time is not about revenge. This isn't like when I faced Victoria, that was revenge. It is not about proving that I own you or that history repeats itself. It is about proving that I am not done writing mine. I am not asking for sympathy. I am not asking for excuses. I’m not even asking for permission. I’m taking everything. I am telling you that when that bell rings, you are getting my full attention, my full effort, and every hard lesson I have learned from losing.”

Her voice softens just a touch, but the intensity never leaves.

“And you, Seleana, you are dangerous right now. You have momentum. You have people whispering that maybe this is your time. Maybe this time Alexandra finally slips. I know you feel that. I know you can taste it. That belief can make someone unstoppable, or it can make them reckless. The difference is how you handle the moment when things do not go your way.”

She tilts her head slightly, studying an imagined reaction.

“Because at some point in that match, something will not go according to plan. It always happens. A move does not land clean. A second too slow. A breath knocked out of you. And in that moment, instinct takes over. That is where this match will be decided.”

Alexandra places a hand over her chest.

“I have been in that moment more times than I can count. I have failed in it. I have survived it. I have learned from it. So when I say I know I can do this, it is not arrogance. It is experience. It is the understanding that belief is not loud. It is not flashy. It is quiet, stubborn, and unyielding.”

She straightens up, her resolve clear.

“This championship is not a promise. It is an opportunity. And opportunities do not care about your past. They care about what you do when they are in front of you. On that night, under those lights, it is just you and me again. No shortcuts. No excuses. No what ifs. Just the knowledge that I am one step closer to my goal.”

A faint smile returns, this time edged with confidence.

“So bring everything you have. Bring the hunger. Bring the hope that this is finally your moment. Please, I’m begging you. Don’t bring some watered down version of yourself. I don’t want the woman who I faced before. Because I am bringing the version of myself that refuses to be defined by failure. And if you are going to beat me, you are going to have to do something nobody else has managed to do yet.”

She holds the camera’s gaze, unwavering.

“You are going to have to break me. And I do not break easily.”

So the story continues
Alexandra’s Blog
Las Vegas, Nevada

I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas and are starting the New Year off on a high note. I know I had a wonderful Christmas week! I spent mine surrounded by family and friends, people who I hold dear to me. I’m still stuck trying to figure out this puzzle box that LJ gave me. But I know that I will eventually defeat it. I did say I wanted a challenge, never expected that challenge to come from my boyfriend. With the holiday season passed, we move on.

Now, we look forward to Inception VIII. I ended the year staring down the barrel knowing that anything could have happened. It did, just like that, another name gets added to the list of people who thought standing in my way was a saintly idea.  Like they believed they were “cleansing” the wrestling world of my name. Climax Control came and went, and Frankie found out the explosive way that I wasn’t bluffing, not for a second. She stepped onto those tracks thinking she could stare me down, thinking I’d slow up, hesitate, second guess myself. What she got alternatively was impact. What she got was reality. The train didn’t stop. It ran straight through her. And I plan on keeping that momentum going.

See, Frankie’s tough. I’ll give her that. She fights like she’s got something to prove, like she’s been overlooked one too many times. But so have I. The difference is, I don’t blink when it’s time to pull the trigger. I don’t hesitate when things get uncomfortable. I thrive there. And when the dust settled, when the noise died down and the referee’s hand hit the mat, there was no doubt left in anyone’s mind that I was the better woman that night.

That win wasn’t just about Frankie. It was about momentum. It was about reminding Sin City Wrestling, and myself, that I don’t need excuses, sympathy, or perfect circumstances to deliver. I need a ring, an opponent, and a reason. Frankie just happened to be next. And now?. Now my eyes are locked firmly on Inception.

Alicia Lukas, the Bombshell Roulette Championship is no longer a distant idea or a future plan. It’s right there. good enough to touch. Every step I’ve taken this month from Victoria, to Frankie, through chaos, injury, and distractions has led me straight to you. Back to MY Bombshell Roulette Title. I’m not coming in hopeful. I’m not coming in cautious. I’m coming in sharpened, prepared, and absolutely convinced that this is my moment.

So enjoy whatever comfort that title gives you while you can. Because I’m walking into Inception with fire in my chest, blood on my knuckles, and proof behind every word I’ve spoken. Frankie learned. Victoria learned. And soon enough, the rest of the world will remember.

This isn’t a comeback story.

This is a warning.

And it’s written in blood, sweat and tears.


Your Forever Champion,
Alexandra Calaway

---

Loves Puzzling Challenge
LJ and Alexandra’s apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada

Alexandra did not pick the puzzle box up right away.

That alone should have told her how mischievously it had gotten under her skin. She sat on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, coffee cooling forgotten on the table, and stared at the thing like it might flinch first if she waited long enough. It sat there incisively as it had all week. Polished. Silent. totally likewise confident for an inanimate object.

She hated that it felt smug. The apartment had settled into a quieter rhythm after LJ disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of running water and the unpredictable shift of movement reminding her she was not alone. That helped. A little. It kept her from spiraling likewise problematic into the idea that she was losing a battle to a woody box. Still, the tension sat large in her shoulders.

Alexandra prided herself on not quitting. She walked away from things when it was strategic, not when they bruised her ego. This did both. Every time she thought she was close, the box stalled, locked itself down, refused to move another inch. She leaned forward and finally picked it up, fingers usual with its weight now. She rotated it slowly, resisting the urge to jump straightforward to the panels she knew would move. She had cooked that enough times already. It had gotten her nowhere. Her thumb traced one of the grooves, the wood politic and warm from the apartment air. The pattern curved, doubled back on itself, disappeared beneath a seam that looked nonfunctional until you stared overly long.

Alexandra frowned and she pressed lightly. Nothing.

She tried again, adjusting pressure, angle, timing. The panel shifted the synoptical fraction it always did before stopping. That familiar resistance met her like a wall. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. She set the box down harder than she meant to and leaned back, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I can solve video game puzzles and I play Dungeons and Dragons, but this thing is worse than any mimic box." The frustration was no longer sharp. It had settled into something heavier. Persistent. The kind that whispered around missed details and witless assumptions.

She hated that part the most.

Because it meant the problem was not the box. It was her. Alexandra forced herself to slow down. She stood and moved around the table, crouching so she could see the box from an inferior angle. The grooves did look diametric from down here, but not in a way that made fast sense. If anything, they raised more questions. She turned the box and tried again, testing a diametric panel. Equal result. She bit down on her lip, irritation bubbling. She could feel herself wanting to brute force it, wanting to apply more pressure just to see what would happen. She knew better. The box had already proven that approach useless.

That did not make it easier to resist. Her gaze drifted concisely toward the bedroom door. She knew LJ could help if she asked. He had offered. He always did. That was not the point. She wanted to win this on her own. Not because of pride alone, though that was part of it, but because she needed to know she could calmly figure things out when they refused to be straightforward. That she had not incomprehensible that part of herself somewhere between packing her life into boxes and starting over in a red hot city.

Alexandra sat back down and picked the puzzle box up again, this time closing her eyes as she turned it in her hands. She focused on the feel alternatively of the sight. The weight distribution. The slight shifts when she rotated it. The way some sides felt further unanimous than others. She pressed at a seam she had not tried in a while. Nothing happened. She exhaled precipitously through her nose and opened her eyes.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Fine.” She tried another approach. She rotated the box totally and slid a panel that had always felt secondary, something she assumed would come later. It moved, then stopped in the same exasperating way as everything else.

The box gave her just enough to keep her hooked. That might have been the cruelest part. Minutes passed. Or maybe longer. Time blurred as she cycled through possibilities, ruling out patterns that led nowhere, noting reactions that changed nothing. She made progress in millimeters that never compounded. Eventually, her shoulders sagged. Alexandra leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling, the box resting grueling in her lap. She felt tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. This was intellectual exhaustion. The kind that came from circling the indistinguishable problem without finding a refreshing angle. She hated that too.

“I am missing something,” she whispered. “I know I am.” She did not throw the box. She did not ask for help. She did not give up. But she set it down. Carefully. The puzzle box sat where she left it, unchanged, unbothered by her effort.

“Perhaps LJ is right, this isn’t about one person. Maybe I should let him help me.” Alexandra watched the puzzle box for a retentive moment, jaw set, resolve hardening alternatively of breaking. This was not over. It was hardly not today. And as frustrating as that realization was, she knew one thing with univocal certainty. She would come back to it. Because she always did.

---

Ghosts of the Past
Flamingo Casino
Las Vegas, Nevada

The Flamingo glowed like a lie told too many times. Pink neon washed over the courtyard, reflecting off water that looked calm until you stared too long and noticed how it never quite sat still. Alexandra moved through the space like she belonged to it, boots clicking softly against stone, her presence heavy and deliberate. This place remembered violence. It remembered ambition soaked in blood and champagne. The Flamingo was not just a casino. It was a grave with a bar built on top of it.

She stopped near the edge of the garden, fingers trailing along a marble column that had seen decades of sins. The air felt thick, charged, as if the dead were leaning in close to listen. Bugsy Siegel’s spirit was said to linger here, furious and proud, surrounded by the echoes of mobsters who bled money and men into the desert to build modern Vegas. Alexandra smiled, slow and sharp, eyes gleaming with something unwell and unrepentant.

“I know you’re here,” she said softly, her voice carrying just enough to cut through the night. “All of you. Watching. Judging. Measuring. Trying to decide my fate through reliving your past.” She laughed under her breath, a sound that did not carry humor so much as hunger. She turned her gaze outward, as if Alicia herself stood across from her beneath the neon palms.

“Alicia,” Alexandra said, tasting the name. “You walk into this like it’s another photoshoot. Another headline. Another moment where everyone tells you how untouchable you are.” Her head tilted slightly, an almost curious gesture. “Do you know what this place was built on? Men who thought they were untouchable. Men who smiled right up until the gun went off. Men who found out that fame, often led them to an early grave.”

She stepped closer to the water, her reflection warping and breaking with every ripple. “This is where Vegas learned how to sin properly. Where ambition learned it had a body count. You feel it, don’t you?” Her eyes lifted, wild and bright. “That pressure in your chest when the lights hit and you realize this is,” she paused. “Much bigger than you. Hell, even bigger than me.”

Alexandra’s fingers curled slowly into a fist. “I am not here to outshine you, to end your career. I am here to end your reign. There is a difference.”

She paced now, controlled but restless, like a predator circling prey it already owned. “You see a chance to keep your title. I see survival. I see validation carved out of bone and broken pride. I will bleed for that Bombshell title, I have before and I’ll do it again and again. I will break rules, bodies, and reputations. And I will smile while I do it.”

She stopped abruptly, staring straight ahead as if Alicia stood inches away. “And you?” Alexandra scoffed. “You want to win, to keep your hold on that title. I need to win, to redeem my past losses. And that,” she paused. “That makes me dangerous.”

The neon buzzed overhead. Somewhere distant, laughter echoed from tourists who had no idea they were standing on sacred criminal ground. Alexandra lowered her voice, almost intimate now. “Bugsy died because he believed the dream belonged to him. Everyone here thought they owned Vegas until it reminded them who really held the knife.” Her smile returned, wider now, unhinged and unapologetic. “At the Flamingo, ghosts don’t rest. They collect. And I am here to take back my Bombshell Roulette Title.”

She leaned in, eyes cold and gleaming. “When I take the Bombshell championship, Alicia, remember this moment. Remember that you were warned. This city rewards monsters. And I am exactly what it’s been waiting for.”

Alexandra stayed where she was, the water at her feet trembling as if something beneath the surface was breathing. The Flamingo whispered around her, the old walls heavy with memory. Every corner of this place had been bought with blood or betrayal, sometimes both, and she felt at home in it. She lifted her chin, eyes unfocused for a moment, as if she were listening to voices no one else could hear.

“They built this city on nerve,” she said quietly. “On men who were willing to kill a friend over a handshake and call it business.” Her lips curled. “That’s the kind of honesty I respect.”

She turned slowly, facing the imagined shape of Alicia again, her posture relaxed but coiled with violence. “You all think I’m unstable,” Alexandra continued, her voice gaining strength. “You all whisper it backstage. You all warn people about me like I’m some kind of problem that needs managing.” She laughed, sharp and sudden. “You’re right. I am a problem. I just happen to be your problem at Inception. Are you sure you are ready to handle it?”

She stepped forward, boots splashing lightly at the edge of the water. “You stand in that ring with perfect posture and perfect hair, telling yourself that skill and charm are enough. That the Bombshell Roulette title will stay right where it is because you deserve it.” Alexandra shook her head slowly. “Deserve is a fairy tale word. Vegas doesn’t care what you deserve. It only cares what you take.”

The lights reflected off her eyes, making them look almost feral. “I don’t sleep before big moments like this. I pace. I plan. I replay the sound of bones hitting canvas in my head until it feels like music.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “This isn’t adrenaline. This is clarity.”

Her voice dropped again, intimate and dangerous. “I will grab that title like it owes me money. I will pull you down into the deep end and hold you there until the panic sets in and you realize you misjudged me.” She smiled. “That moment when your confidence cracks. That’s my favorite part.”

Alexandra glanced toward the towering hotel, pink lights humming like a heartbeat. “This place remembers men who thought fear made them weak. They were wrong. Fear makes you honest. And I am brutally honest about what I am.” She turned back, eyes locked on her invisible opponent. “Alicia, when we step into that ring, this stops being a match. It becomes a reckoning. I am not here to prove I belong. I am here to carve my name into history and leave you wondering how you ever thought you could stop me.”

She took one last step forward, voice steady and cold. “The Flamingo crowned kings and buried them in the same breath. At Inception VIII for the Bombshell Roulette Championship, I am doing the same thing.” Her grin widened, twisted and unwavering. “Pray that the ghosts like you. I already know they like me.”

Alexandra stepped inside the casino proper, the air shifting the moment the doors closed behind her. The Flamingo smelled different at night. Old smoke trapped in velvet, stale perfume clinging to carpet, money that had passed through too many desperate hands. The slots chimed and sang, cheerful and false, but beneath the noise there was another rhythm. A pulse. A memory.

She walked slowly between the machines, her fingers brushing the edges of chrome and glass. For a moment the reflections did not match her movements. Shapes lingered where no bodies stood. Men in sharp suits with hollow eyes. Women draped in silk and secrets. She could see them in the corners of the mirrors, flickering like damaged film.

“Still playing,” she murmured. “Still pretending the house doesn’t always win.”

A shadow passed through a row of slot machines, the lights dimming as it moved. Alexandra stopped, watching it with open fascination. “Bugsy,” she said calmly. “You built this place like a throne and they shot you for it. Isn’t that beautiful?” She smiled. “That’s the risk of vision. People kill what they cannot control. They attempt to end something so powerful, without a single thought.”

She continued walking, heels sinking slightly into carpet worn thin by decades of greed. At the tables, the dealers’ smiles stretched too wide, their hands moving with mechanical precision. For a split second, their faces shifted. Their eyes went dead and their mouths stopped smiling. She saw blood where chips should be, red soaking into green felt before snapping back to normal.

Alexandra leaned down, resting her palms on an empty blackjack table. “This is what Alicia doesn’t understand,” she said softly. “She thinks pressure comes from crowds and cameras.” Her reflection in the polished surface grinned back at her, eyes too bright. “Pressure comes from knowing everything around you wants to take something from you. I’ve known that, experienced it in my many years in this industry.”

She straightened, pacing again. “I walk into a ring and I am calm because I already made peace with the worst parts of myself. I don’t flinch. I don’t hesitate.” Her voice lowered. “I don’t stop when it hurts. I’ve never done that before, why would I start now?”

A laugh echoed somewhere behind her, low and rough, not belonging to any living throat. Alexandra turned her head slowly toward the sound. “I know,” she said. “You all did terrible things for power. You ruined lives and called it legacy.” She inhaled deeply. “I respect that honesty.”

She stopped beneath a chandelier, its crystals casting fractured light across her face. “Alicia wants to be admired,” Alexandra continued. “She wants to be remembered as graceful, dominant, untouchable.” Her expression hardened. “I want her to remember the moment she realized none of that mattered.”

She clenched her hands, knuckles whitening. “When I pin her. When the mat is cold against her back and the noise fades and it’s just me and her heartbeat.” Her lips parted in a slow, unsettling smile. “That’s when she’ll see me clearly.”

The shadows gathered closer now, drifting between tables and machines like curious spectators. Alexandra welcomed them. “You built this city by breaking people,” she said to the ghosts. “I am just following tradition.”

She turned toward the exit, eyes blazing with intent. “Alicia,” she said, voice carrying through the casino like a promise, “this title isn’t a prize. It’s a sacrifice. And I am more than willing to make one.”

The lights flickered as Alexandra moved deeper into the casino, and then something shifted. Not abruptly. Not cleanly. Time here did not snap. It bled.

The music softened, warped, slowing until the electronic hum of modern Vegas thinned into something older. Brass. Cigarette haze. The carpet beneath her boots felt thicker, heavier, as if decades of footsteps pressed back. She inhaled and the air burned her lungs, smoke and whiskey and gun oil. The Flamingo no longer pretended to be polite.

She looked around and the slots were gone.

In their place stood men in suits cut sharp and expensive, hats tilted low, faces half-hidden in shadow. Their voices murmured over one another, low and dangerous, deals being made without paper, without witnesses. Women leaned against tables, lipstick dark, eyes calculating. Chips clacked together with the weight of real consequence. This was the 1940s, and it watched her walk through it like an intruder who belonged.

Alexandra smiled.

“So this is it,” she said aloud, her voice steady, reverent in a twisted way. “This is where monsters learned how to wear manners.”

A man passed straight through her shoulder. She did not flinch. His laugh lingered in her ear, rough and cruel. She turned slowly, meeting the empty space where his eyes should have been. “You would have liked me,” she said calmly. “I don’t bluff. I don’t fold. Alexandra Calaway never folds.”

She stepped forward and the crowd parted without realizing it. Cards slapped down on tables. Money changed hands. Somewhere a woman screamed, then laughed, then disappeared behind a curtain that smelled like regret. Alexandra’s reflection appeared in a mirrored column, but it was wrong. Her eyes looked darker. Wilder. Like she had already crossed a line she could never come back from.

“This is what Alicia is walking into,” she continued, voice low and deliberate. “She thinks history is a backdrop. A theme. A cute story for commentary.” Alexandra leaned closer to the glass. “History has teeth. And it bites hard when you disrespect it.”

She dragged her fingers across a table edge and saw blood smear beneath them, fresh and vivid, before vanishing again. “You men built Vegas by taking what you wanted and daring anyone to stop you,” she said to the ghosts. “You killed for less than a title. You ruined lives for pride.”

Her grin sharpened. “I am not ashamed of what I am willing to do. I think I’ve proven that time and time again. I am done proving myself. Especially to those who don't believe.”

The room seemed to close in around her, walls tightening, the weight of the past pressing against her spine. She welcomed it. She thrived in it. “Alicia,” Alexandra said, voice rising just enough to carry through decades, “you walk into the ring thinking this is sport. Thinking your code and rules will save you.” She stopped in the center of the casino floor, shadows circling her like a jury that already knew the verdict. “I walk in like these men did. Like everything is on the line. Like someone is going to leave changed or not leave at all.”

Her eyes gleamed with something unwell, something honest. “I will drag you backward through every mistake you never paid for. I will make you feel small. I will make you doubt every cheer you ever believed was real.”

The ghosts leaned closer now. Watching. Approving.

“When the ref’s hand hits the mat,” Alexandra whispered, “this city will remember you the way it remembers everyone else. As something that is lost.” She straightened, shoulders squared, fearless. “The Flamingo crowned kings before it buried them. Alicia.” Her smile was slow, vicious. “You don’t get to be the exception.”

With that she walked from the view of the camera, disappearing into the casino crowd.

Looking Back
LJ’s Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada

It’s no secret the past few months have been a rollercoaster, from leaving Dallas and moving to Las Vegas with LJ. From the highest of wins to the lowest of losses. There were championship matches and blood spilled, proving my resilience, but the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t amount to shit if you have nothing to prove for it. Two Bombshell Roulette Championship reigns and then, practically one step outside of obscurity, few chances here and there to prove I wasn’t just a fluke, but each one that came, went with the heartbreak of another loss. Time and time again I have been right on the precipice of doing something absolutely amazing, of getting that title and then falling flat on my face.

The World Championship had been in my grasp, many thought it was my time to shine, but it slipped through my fingers as if it was nothing more than grains of sand in the middle of the desert I now live in. And yet I failed to capture it again and again. The Bombshell Roulette title had been in my reaches again and I failed to deliver on it. This had started a doubt in me, maybe my time had come and passed, I was nothing more than another person the management could put in there to assure that asses were in the seats and at least I would show up. I didn’t need to run around whining about not being booked, like some. Or have to make grandiose showings to have my name put in the hat every time a big title shot was offered. No, I gave them results. Some of those who I've faced, rose to a higher standard, while others failed just as it seems I am doing. So who am I to judge really?

People say I’ve gone soft. That I’m not the same person I’ve always been. The woman who is willing to do whatever it takes. That’s the truth of it. I haven’t gone soft, I just don't focus on just wrestling, I’m more than that. If you think I’m so one dimensional then it proves you don’t know me at all. I am a mother, a sister, a girlfriend and a wrestler. I’m not just one thing. Being one thing is a boring way to go isn’t it. There’s so much life out there to live, so live it. But as for focusing on the match at hand, that’s what I do. Even with Inception looming in the distance and the talks of me facing off against Alicia Lukas again, another shot at the Bombshell Roulette Championship, I think about Victoria. The woman who took that all from me. And yes, she’s brutal, she’s had my number many times. People think she’s already poised to take another win off me. Maybe she will.

But, I know that every dog has their day and this bitch, she is hungrier than ever. She’s salivating over another shot at Victoria, we all know what a hungry bitch does don’t we? They bite, they claw, they rip people apart. They will do whatever it takes, I know that and Victoria knows that. She has always been my achilles heel, Victoria calls herself a lioness. But even lionesses fall. Sometimes they fall defending their pride, but from where I stand, Victoria doesn’t have much of a pride left to defend does she? Her talent is huge, I can speak from experience. Her ego however makes it hard to like her. Well, I’d call it an ego. But I think it’s more than that. What she has is not an ego, it’s something stronger, she believes herself to be a God. To be untouchable, meanwhile her Pride has fallen, and yet it’s clear she’s not going down without a fight. And neither will I. Where she believes herself to be a God, considers herself untouchable, I am humility, self-awareness, a connection to something greater. A being of strength, resilience and truth.

It’s never been in me to half ass my way through life. I don’t plan on starting that now. You all can take that as you will. This is MY moment, my time and I’m not letting anyone stop me from getting back on top. No crown needed. Victoria, I’m coming for you. See you all in Colorado Springs on Sunday.

Alexandra Calaway

---

Run, Little Mouse…Run
Carrow Gym
Las Vegas, Nevada

Jubal Ashford was a mountain planted dead center in the ring. The man sat in an old metal chair that seemed specifically molded to his imposing frame. At six-foot-one of solid, carved muscle and quiet menace, he looked like a man who had spent a lifetime deciding who deserved to be broken. The swinging bulb above him made his features flicker in and out of the light: the cold, harsh lines of his jaw, the brutal set of his mouth, and the storm-dark hazel eyes that held her with an intense, unwavering gaze; one that offered no question, no welcome, and no comfort. He didn't speak. Not a single word, not even a sharp intake of breath to hint at his mood. He simply watched her approach, his eyes following every subtle shift of her shoulders, every step she took into the space he commanded. He was a threat. He was a judge. Worst of all, he recognized parts of her she had spent months, years, even, trying to bury. The silence was a palpable pressure on her skin, dragging up hated ghosts and memories of the person she used to be in darker rings and grim cities where every scar had been earned.

“Jubal, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Her voice was calm and deep inside that fear flooded in for a moment. “Where’s Mika? She asked me to meet her here.”

Jubal didn’t move, not even a shift of breath to acknowledge her presence. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, serrated drawl, quiet enough to force her to listen, sharp enough to make her regret it.

“Mika’s not coming.” He paused, heavy and deliberate, before he leaned forward just enough for the light to catch the harsh angles of his face. His eyes were dark hazel, but under that bulb they looked almost black; predatory, unblinking, capable of violence without a raised voice or tensed fist. “I told her I’d handle you tonight.” There was no warmth, no familiarity, no brotherly teasing by association. Just authority wrapped in disdain, carried on a tone that made the temperature in the gym seem to drop.

“Handle me Jubal? Really?” She shook her head. “So this is how it goes huh?” She walked closer. “You get me here, try to scare me? We both know if you harm me, they will never forgive you.” she practically cooed at him.

Jubal’s laugh tore through the gym like something ripped out of a throat made for breaking men, short, vicious, the kind of sound that didn’t come from amusement so much as disbelief that she dared to posture at all. He rose from the chair with the slow, deliberate weight of a man who’d ended wars simply by deciding he was done with them. The metal creaked under the shift of his body, protesting like it understood exactly what he was capable of.

“Scare you?” he echoed, voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp that slithered across the floorboards. “If I wanted you gone, Alexandra, you wouldn’t have walked through the damn door.” He stepped closer to the ropes, eyes locked on hers with a predator’s stillness; no hesitation, no mercy, just that cold calculation she’d always known lived somewhere under his skin.

“Sweetheart,” he continued, the endearment twisted into something razor-sharp, “you give yourself far too much credit if you think their forgiveness is the thing that keeps my hands off you.” He tilted his head slightly, studying her with a slow drag of his gaze, as though peeling away layers she’d spent years reinforcing.

“You’re here,” he said, voice a dark, low rumble. “Because someone finally needs to remind you what real fear feels like. Not the fear of losing a match. Not the fear of disappointing your little toy at home. I mean the kind that sinks its teeth into your spine when you realize you’ve gone soft enough to think you can cock your head at me like that.”

His lip curled just enough to expose the contempt beneath it. “You’re not cooing at a man who wants to kill you,” he growled. “You’re cooing at the one man in this city who knows exactly how to break you without leaving a single mark.”  He didn’t blink. Didn’t soften. Didn’t take back a single word. “And that,” he finished, voice thinning into something brutal and quiet, “should scare you.”

Alexandra was ready to tear his head off already, yet she didn’t move. She knew Jubal was important to the family. That moving on him to strike him or anything without provocation would be dangerous for her health, for Ash’s safety. “You have no idea who he is.” She closed the distance between herself and the ring, slipping up onto the apron. Her blue eyes, normally soft and inviting, were cold and fixed on him. “Of who they are.”

Jubal didn’t flinch when she closed the distance. He didn’t back away, didn’t brace, didn’t even shift his stance. He simply watched her approach like a wolf tolerating a wounded animal wandering too close; curiously, patiently, already knowing how the story ends. And the moment her hand touched the apron, the moment she came within reach, his arm shot out with the speed and certainty of a man who had never once questioned the consequences of laying hands on someone. His fingers clamped around her jaw, strong enough to bite into bone, forcing her chin upward so she had no choice but to meet the dark, unforgiving stare inches from her own.

“No idea who he is?” Jubal murmured, voice dropping into a lethal whisper that vibrated along her spine. “Sweetheart, the only thing I know about that boy is that you keep dragging him around like a personal toy you’re too embarrassed to admit you outgrew.”

His grip tightened; not enough to hurt her throat, but enough to dominate every breath she tried to take. She clawed at him with one hand, the other throwing a punch at his midsection, where she was met with the firm, rock hard side of Jubal. It stung, but not more than his words did.

“A toddler with mommy issues,” he continued, leaning in, his forehead almost touching hers. “That’s what you’re protecting. That’s what you think stands beside you. A child playing pretend in a world built for killers.” He let his eyes drag over her face, noting every flicker of tension, every instinct she had to strike him and every reason she didn’t.

“Shut your fucking mouth Jubal, before I send you to the hospital to have it sown shut.” She continued to struggle against him. Continued to fight, that fire burning deeper inside her. Something new ignited. “You keep him out of your fucking mouth. If you have issues with me, with my life, you come at me not at them.”

“And look at you,” he said, his voice thick with dark amusement. “Biting your tongue, still holding back, all because you know putting hands on me is the one wrong move that ends badly for everyone you care about. Especially your little boy wonder.” He forced her backward a few inches, still gripping her face, crowding her space with the sheer size of him.

“You’re getting old Jubal.” She smirked. “You wouldn’t harm them, because you KNOW what would happen.” She brought her hand back and slapped him hard across the face. “You think threatening me is going to get to me.”

“And you’re getting sloppy,” Jubal said, eyes narrowing. “Letting some twenty-something nuzzle at your tits and call it loyalty. You think he’s going to save you from yourself? From Victoria? From me?” He leaned closer, lips brushing the edge of her ear, his breath cold against her skin. “He can barely save himself, Alexandra.” Then he brought his gaze back to hers, grip firm and unyielding. “Tell me again,” he growled, “what exactly am I supposed to be scared of? The toddler? Or the woman too afraid to admit she chained herself to one?”

"I don't need anyone to save me." With that a growl left her lips and she put all of her weight into it and bounced back against the ropes, putting her feet in his stomach and kicked him off her with all her might, sending him backwards. “Are we talking or are we fighting? Because right now, I really want to knock your head off your shoulders.”

Jubal hit the canvas with a thundering crash, the ring rattling under the weight of him, but he didn’t stay down. He pushed up with a slow, murderous deliberation like something ancient and dangerous dragging itself out of a grave. His eyes weren’t hazel anymore; they were a storm-black warning, a promise of retribution sharpened and waiting. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, not because he needed to but because it gave him an extra second to study her with that predator’s patience. The growl she’d given, the power in the kick, the spark of fury and hated what it wasn’t.

“Oh, we’re not fighting,” he said as he rose to his full, imposing height, voice dark enough to freeze the air between them. “You don’t get to call it a fight until you show me the woman who used to make entire divisions flinch when she walked into a room.” He stepped toward her, slow, each heavy footfall echoing off the cracked gym walls. His presence swallowed space, swallowed light, swallowed sense. He stopped just inside her striking range—not cautious, simply unthreatened. “But that woman?” he continued, his tone twisting into something mocking, cruel. “She wouldn’t have wasted a kick on me. She would’ve torn into me until something broke. She would’ve bled for the satisfaction.” His gaze raked down her face, searching, dissecting, judging.

Rage boiled inside her, festering until there was nothing else. No compassion, no safety net to fall back on. She wanted to rip into Jubal. His words hurt, they did, she wouldn’t even start to lie. He knew her, the woman she used to be. All blood and fury, violence in human form. “Keep pushing and you’ll find out.”

“You’re a ghost of her,” he said, the words a low, merciless blow. “A pale echo.” He rolled his shoulders once, cracking something that sounded like a warning shot. “And you really think you’re ready to step into the ring with Victoria in that state?” His laugh this time was not a bark, it was a quiet, poisoned thing. “She’s going to carve you open, Alexandra. She’s been waiting to.”

And he had a point. She had been just an echo of her former self. Of the woman people once feared. There was no lie in his words and that made her angrier by the second. Had she really seemed that weak to everyone? “We’ve carved each other open, clearly you are blind.” She practically spat in his face.

He took another step, towering over her now, the ropes behind her trembling with the tension in her body. “You think this little spark of anger you just threw at me is enough to survive her?” he asked, voice dropping to a low rasp that coiled around her throat. “She’ll swallow that whole. She’ll break your sternum just to listen to you breathe through the pain.”

It’s as if he could see inside her head. All those thoughts that festered to the surface, but never fully broke through. “You think you know me, know what I am.. Who I am.” She knew at this point her words were only being half heard. He was on a mission. To break her to the point, she could sense that now.

He leaned in, his breath brushing along her cheek. “The tragic part?” His voice softened into something far more cutting. “The Alexandra I knew would’ve been the one doing the carving.” He pulled back just enough for his eyes to lock on hers, dark and merciless. “Right now,” he growled, “you’re not even close.”

And that was the final straw, the thing that sent her tumbling over the edge. He made the same presumptuous comments as others had. “If that’s what you truly think Jubal, you don’t really know me.” Without another thought she balled up her fists throwing a right hook towards his  face, he grabbed her hand making a scolding sound at her. Bringing her left and south pawed him in the jaw. She made sure her mark landed.

Jubal’s head snapped to the side, the crack of her fist against his jaw echoing through the dead, hollow space of the gym. Blood bloomed at the corner of his mouth, dark, rich, a thin line trailing down the cut of his chin. Deep, brutal, feral laughter that belonged to a man who had been waiting for that hit, craving it, needing proof she wasn’t completely dead inside.

He dragged his thumb across the blood on his lip, smearing it with a slow, deliberate swipe. His eyes lifted to her, and the expression he wore was not approval. It was hunger for violence. It was a spark that fanned into something dangerous. “There she is, our little killer,” he growled, voice roughened by impact and delight. “For a minute, I thought you had buried that part of yourself with everything else you used to be worth.”

He stepped in, closing the space she tried to carve out with her fists, moving with the certainty of a man who didn’t care if he bled more, hell, he welcomed it. “You think I don’t know you?” he asked, and his smile was a weapon. “I know you better than you want to admit. I know exactly what it takes to dig up the bones you pretend aren’t there.” He tapped his jaw once with two fingers, still smeared with his own blood.

“You hit like the Alexandra who used to make locker rooms whisper,” he said, then tilted his head with a cold, mocking curve of his lips. “But that wasn’t her. That was desperation.” He leaned close enough that she could smell the copper on his breath, close enough that the ropes behind her trembled from how tightly she held herself. “If you want to prove me wrong?” he murmured, dark eyes boring into hers with vicious command. “Don’t bleed me.” His voice sank into a growl, “Become the nightmare Victoria still flinches at when she sleeps. Make her bleed.”

“Next time you come to me, you’ll come right. That’s what that was.” She walked over and grabbed the rag out of the ice bucket and tossed it at him. “Clean yourself up, I don’t want you bleeding all over the place.”

There was no camera to witness this crashout. No family to stop this from happening, only her and Jubal. Alexandra’s gaze turned cold and the world around her went dark.

---

Laying it All on the Line
Garden of the Gods
Colorado Springs, Colorado

Alexandra turns her back on the camera and keeps her gaze on the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs. It is just her and the tranquil Gardens, with the wind giving a mischievous lift to her hair before it resumes falling on her shoulders. When at last she turns to the camera, the intensity of her look is striking.

“Victoria, we’ve had this conversation already, have we not? I’m not going to act like we haven’t. We have repeatedly put in the effort together in that ring and still do. Neither of us is willing to give up the fight for the championship of the best here, as we are on totally different levels. We are aware of the extreme measures we will each take just to make sure that we are the ones exiting the ring victorious.”

A brief pause while she meditates on their joint suffering. The fights between Victoria and Alexandra were some of the most exciting, albeit violent, in Sin City Wrestling. They have gone through all this and come out with at least a tiny bit of mutual understanding.

“We might not be friends and when we step into that ring, it’s a true showcase of what wrestling should represent. Since losing my Bombshell Roulette Championship, I haven’t been quite myself. You know that feeling, right? You weren’t exactly the same after you lost it, either. Yet, you managed to grab another one soon after. You did what you promised; you rose to the occasion, climbed the ranks, and proved all the doubters wrong. I heard the whispers. Deep down, I always believed in you, Victoria.”

She draws a deep breath, considering her next words. She knows that vowing to put an end to this rivalry doesn’t mean it’ll be over. An arch nemesis never really fades away. It’s just a fact of life; their feud will likely follow them through their careers.

“All that momentum you’ve built? It’s understandable. You think you’re on top of the world now, totally unstoppable. I’ve been there too. I’ve had my fair share of highs, enough to write a book about it.”

Alexandra pauses, allowing the wind to fill the silence. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, calming the excitement fluttering in her chest; not fear, but anticipation, the kind that kept her awake before a big match. When her eyes open again, there’s a feral determination in them, one that only Victoria has ever drawn out.

“Here’s the thing about feeling untouchable,” her voice lowering, steady and clear. “When the world starts calling you unstoppable and the crowd chants your name like you’re some unstoppable force; you begin to believe it. You start to forget the grind, the bruises, those nights filled with doubts. Somewhere along the journey, losing sight of what it took to get there becomes too easy. You stand on that peak for so long that you forget what it’s like to bleed for it.”

Alexandra again faces away from the camera, her eyes fixed on the jagged red stones that stick out from the earth like the ribs of an ancient beast. She runs her fingers along one of the boulders, feeling the warmth left by the sun.

“That was me once,” she confesses. “Thinking I had built something too strong for anyone to tear down. Believing that championship belt secured my place for good. That who I had become was set in stone. And then, I lost it—the one thing I thought defined me. But if I’m honest, nothing truly defines me.”

She exhales sharply, raw honesty behind it.

“I told myself it didn’t break me. I convinced myself I’d get back up, brush myself off, and walk right back into the fire to reclaim what was mine. The truth is, I cracked. At first, it was just a small crack that I ignored, something I covered up with pride and adrenaline. Cracks have a way of spreading. They widen, and before you know it, you recognize that the fighter you promised to always be is slipping away.”

Slowly, Alexandra turns back to the camera. This time, it’s not anger she shows, but resolve. A promise.

“You’ve been through that too, Victoria. Don’t pretend otherwise. I saw you wear that self-doubt after losing the Roulette Championship. Everyone did. But you got back up, rebuilt yourself. The difference between you and others? You didn’t look for excuses or blame anyone else. You just fought.”

She steps closer, filling the frame more as her voice builds with each word.

“That’s why we have this thing between us. This rivalry won’t die, no matter how often we think we’ve put it to rest. It’s not just about wanting to beat each other; we’re proving something with every strike, every fall, every drop of blood shared between us. It’s not hate. It’s about identity. It’s legacy.”

Her jaw tightens as she lifts her chin and cocks her head.

“You’re riding high right now, collecting wins, feeling like the world finally sees you have always dreamed. Good for you. Momentum is great. It makes the ground feel like it’s moving with you. It can trick you into thinking you’re untouchable, and everyone else is just in your way.”

A knowing smirk plays on her lips.

“Remember that momentum doesn’t equal invincibility. I’ve seen many wrestlers fall because they mistook momentum for destiny. It’s not the same. Destiny is something you shape with your own hands. It’s the battle you fight for until your lungs ache. Destiny is what you cling to when the world tries to erase your name, and you refuse to let that happen.”

Alexandra steps even closer, the camera catching the spark in her blue eyes.

“You think you’ve become the immovable force in Sin City Wrestling? Alright. But I’ve always been the one thing built to challenge that force. I didn’t climb to the top overnight. I’m still on that climb. Yet every scar, every bruise, and every setback has sharpened me. I’m done pretending to be anything but what I am.”

She presses a hand over her heart. “I’m a storm, Victoria. I always have been. And storms don’t stay quiet forever. They gather strength, swelling until they burst.”

She lets her hand drop, fingers brushing against her side.

“You’ve had your time to shine. You’ve had your run. But this?” she points between herself and the camera, “this rivalry was never gonna wrap up with just one win or one loss. Our story is more complex than that, not something for easy conclusions. It’s meant to be the kind of rivalry that people talk about even after we’ve hung up our boots. The kind they’ll replay when new wrestlers want to see what real competition looks like.”

Alexandra moves around slowly, letting the camera follow her.

“You know what I’m capable of when I’m pushed into a corner, when others count me out. You know the whispers behind my back. You know they think I might be fading, that I’ve lost my edge. But you know better, Victoria. You’ve faced me enough to know what happens when I’m brought to that breaking point.”

Her tone shifts, darker yet not malicious.

“I become dangerous. I become relentless. I stop caring about pride, popularity, or who’s cheering for me. I become that version of myself that fights to survive, to reclaim what others believe they can take.”

The wind lifts her hair, brushing strands across her face, but her gaze remains locked on the camera.

“So, go ahead. Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts. Feel invincible. Step into the ring thinking you’re untouchable. You should. I want you at your best—at the level of the Victoria who clawed her way back from the dirt. The woman who won’t quit, even when she should. I want the fighter who’s made me bleed and smile at the same time.”

Her smirk sharpens.

“When I step into that match, I won’t be the same Alexandra you faced before. I won’t hesitate. I won’t doubt. I won’t be searching for a safe space. I'll be searching for your one mistake. I'll find it. And I’ll be the one pulling the ground out from under you.”

With a steady arm, she points directly at the camera, her conviction clear.

“This isn’t just another chapter between us. This is the showdown. The moment everything between us reaches a peak. When that bell rings, I’m going to remind you why you feared me from the start.”

Alexandra lowers her hand, her voice lowering into a quiet, dangerous whisper. “You’re not untouchable, Victoria. You’re just next.” She holds that gaze for a long moment, letting the weight of her words sink in.

A sense of Normacly
LJ’s Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada

Law School, Wrestling, High School, a family atmosphere. Something more, that’s what they had in Vegas. The missing piece of the puzzle that was Alexandra Calaway and her daughter Ashlynn’s lives. Having LJ there, no more facetime calls, no more flights. Just the three of them in LJ’s cozy little place. Though eventually they would probably have to look into something bigger. She wasn’t used to domestic bliss, it felt almost foreign to her. After years of living in a big estate with just herself and Ashlynn, moving like this, felt so much like a second chance at life. Even in other aspects of her life. Not just the domestic part, but also her wrestling. She felt as if a new life had been breathed into her. This time, the possibilities were endless.

Alexandra had been at the apartment alone all day, with her daughter Ashlynn at school and then going straight to some sleepover afterwards, and LJ in classes, Alexandra had free time to relax and think about her upcoming match. But as the day progressed, she knew that LJ would be home from class soon and she wanted to do something nice for him. A couple of hours had just passed and she was just finishing up dinner when LJ walked through the door. He put his bag on the chair and followed the smell of food into the kitchen. That’s when she heard his voice.

“Hey,” LJ said, leaning against the doorframe, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Something smells amazing. Did you actually cook?”

Alexandra turned from the stove, smirking. “What’s that supposed to mean? I can cook, you know.”

He laughed, setting his keys down on the counter. “I just didn’t expect it. You’ve had a long week. I figured you’d order takeout or something.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, stirring the sauce one last time, “I figured you deserved a real meal after your marathon of classes. Plus, Ashlynn’s gone for the night, so it’s just us. We deserve a bit of normalcy around here.”

That last part lingered in the air for a second. LJ met her gaze, something soft and grateful in his expression.

“Then I guess it’s date night,” he said quietly. “Should have picked up some roses on the way home then.”

Alexandra chuckled and handed him a plate. “Sit. Eat. We’ll see if you still feel that romantic after you taste my cooking.”

He took a bite and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Okay. I’m impressed. What is this?”

“Chicken with lemon butter and roasted vegetables. Nothing fancy.” She gave a small shrug.

“Nothing fancy?” he said between bites. “This is better than the stuff at that Italian place downtown. Angel, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

She smiled, a little blush creeping up her cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you’re starving.”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “You did something amazing and it’s perfect.”

They ate together, the apartment quiet except for the clinking of forks and the hum of the city outside. For the first time all week, Alexandra felt herself unwind. The match on Sunday still loomed in the back of her mind, but right now, right here, everything felt simple. Everything felt it was as it should be. The thoughts about her upcoming match were beginning to become nonexistent.

After a while, LJ leaned back in his chair. “So,” he said, glancing at her. “Are you ready for High Stakes love?”

Just the thought of her championship match at High Stakes brought forward the thoughts of every time she had tried recently at grabbing the championships recently. Every time she had failed to bring home the win. It all had led her back here. Back to another shot, another chance, one she didn’t plan on wasting this time.

Alexandra exhaled slowly. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I mean it’s the Roulette title, I’ve been there so many times. But something about this time seems different.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “Then you’re gonna crush it.”

She smiled, squeezing his fingers. “You really think so?”

“I know so, Angel.” He pulled hand to her lips and kissed them softly. “Every time you go out there you give it your all.”

Alexandra leaned back in her chair, her fork resting on the edge of her plate. “You always say that,” she said, smiling a little.

“Because it’s always true,” LJ responded softly. He reached for his glass of water and took a sip, still watching her. “You’ve been training like crazy. You’ve earned this. You’re a former Roulette Champion, this match may feel different, but it’s not. The difference this time is you walk out the champion again.”

She gave a small shrug. “Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, you know? You can do everything right, and still, well, you know.”

He nodded, finishing her thought for her. “Still lose.”

“Exactly.” She nodded her head in agreement with him.

The room went quiet again, but not in an uncomfortable way. The kind of quiet that comes from two people who didn’t need to fill every second with words.

LJ stood and started gathering their plates, ignoring her half-hearted protest. “You cooked, I’ll clean. Fair trade.”

“Fine,” she said, pushing her chair back. “But I’m at least drying.”

They moved around the kitchen together, brushing past each other now and then. The small space made it impossible not to. At one point, LJ reached across her for a towel, and for a moment, his hand lingered on her arm. She looked up, and he smiled, just a small, knowing smile, but it was enough to make her heart skip. Then again anytime he looked at her it did.

“You’re overthinking again, love.” LJ looked over at her and took a deep breath.

“Am I that obvious?” Alexandra asked, her hand on his arm.

“Only to me.” LJ chuckled softly.

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the grin creeping across her face. “You always think you know me so well.”

“That’s because I do Angel. Better than just about anyone.” He playfully swatted her on the ass with the towel.

They finished cleaning up, and when the last dish was stacked away, Alexandra leaned against the counter and let out a slow breath. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?” LJ gave her a look that said more than his words did. He gave her a smirk.

“For this. For being here. For me, for Ashlynn. You’ve already done so much for us.” She kissed his cheek.

He shrugged like it was nothing, but she could see the warmth in his eyes. “Where else would I be?”

She didn’t answer right away. The match, the noise, the pressure of it all. It all felt far away for the first time in days. It was just them. Two people who believed in each other, who supported each other, no matter what.

“Come on,” he said, breaking the silence. “You should rest. Big day on Sunday.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Big day.”

He turned off the kitchen light, and they headed down the hall together. Though she doubted she would actually get any rest. Just before they reached the door to their bedroom, he lifted her up, legs wrapping around his waist.

---

High Stakes
Sabino Canyon
Tucson, Arizona

Focus and remember just who the hell you are.

Wind blew through the canyon, up onto the top where Alexandra stood. The camera trains in on Alexandra who is walking along the edge. She turns to the camera and starts to speak, eyes full of focus and fire. Something that had been missing from her for months now.

“I didn’t expect to make it back to this point. After many failed attempts at getting my Roulette Title back and multiple failed attempts at getting the Bombshell World Championship in my grasp I had damn near given up the hope of being back here. There were so many times I asked myself, is this the right time for me to say goodbye to this business. I’ve had that thought many times over the course of my career. But I stay, I keep fighting, because that’s what a legend is. They don’t give up and walk away when shit gets hard. If there’s anything I can pride myself on when I finally retire, it's that I didn’t give up. No matter how tough things got. No matter what people had to say.”

She paused for a few moments, thinking about everything that had happened in her time in the industry and her time in Sin City Wrestling. The ups, the downs and everything in between. Her time here was nothing short of legendary and it was far from over.

“With every loss I have, so come the rumors. Alexandra’s getting old, Alexandra’s losing her touch. Truth is, not everyone can sit here day in and day out ignoring their private lives to better their jobs. I do this because  I love it, because I can. I do it for the fans, even those who love to spread rumors and gossip. Did you hear the one about where I’m supposedly pregnant and taking it easy? That’s not the case. I just don't see the need to go out there and purposely injure someone, just to win a match. Sometimes I look at it differently, sure we all love to win. To have something to show for all our hard work. But that’s just it, I have the more important things in life. I have my brilliant daughter, I have a loving boyfriend and a family. But at the end of the day, people only look at the accomplishments you make in the ring.”

The only person standing in the way of her taking the Bombshell Roulette Championship wasn’t Alicia Lukas, it would be herself if she focused on anything other than the match at hand. There was radio silence from Vincent and his bullshit vendetta against her. Right now, the only person in her sights was Alicia Lukas and the Bombshell Roulette Championship.

“Which brings me to my opponent, the Current Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Roulette Champion. Alicia Lukas. You have every right to be proud of what you’ve accomplished in your time here and while I don’t know you all that well, I do have a massive respect for you. But tell me, in your current reign as our beloved Bombshell Roulette Champion, how many times have you defended that belt? It seems that the person who defended it the most, damn near week in and week out was me. I was the workhorse of the division. And guess what, that was perfectly fine to me. I loved going out there and defending that belt anytime someone wanted. Some of my favorite matches here in Sin City were while I was its Bombshell Roulette Champion. Just look at the storied History made with that belt while I was the holder.”

Another pause as she looked out over the canyon. Being here, feeling nature around her, grounded her. Reminded her of what was truly important. In the end, you can’t take glory and fame to the grave with you. Glory doesn’t last forever, but your name does.

“That title was my pride and joy for a time. I held it twice. But in the time I held it, I was a fighting champion, defending it with everything I had in me. I fought some of the strongest women on this roster. Jessie Salco, Bobbie Dahl, Victoria Lyons, Bella Madison, the list goes on and on. I love the women’s division as a whole here in Sin City Wrestling. This company holds the best talent out there. But if you think for a second that I’m going to be an easy win, that’s not the case. Hell, Victoria and I were willing to bloody each other to the point of exhaustion. Tell me Alicia, are you willing to spill not only my blood, but your own for that championship? If you are, then I hope that wheel gives us exactly what we both desire. There’s so many great matches on that wheel. I look forward to whatever fate decides for us. Let’s face it, many have tried to knock me down for good, but I keep coming back for more. It’s called being relentless and I pride myself on never giving up.”

It seemed that Vincent’s threats were long forgotten at this point. No one had made an attempt and she no longer had that looming over her head. With that and the clarity that LJ brought during their many conversations while training, she was ready to reclaim the title.

“Legend versus the darkness-born dominator, I’m glad to see that someone still sees me for who I am. Darkness born, I miss hearing that. I do. Maybe it’s time I remind everyone just who I am and what I am capable of doing. I’ve bloodied up opponents, done things that most people’s lips would quiver at if it was even suggested. I’ve put my body on the line for years. All in the pursuit of glory. Just remember Alicia, that wheel can be fickle. There’s no telling what it will choose for us. Be it bloody, be it submissions, it doesn’t matter, the outcome will be the same at the end of it all. You will be flat on your back and looking up at me with my hand raised, in my hand will be your coveted Bombshell Roulette Championship. Because unlike some of these ladies, I’m not new to this business, I’ve adapted to the changes. That’s how I’ve lasted this damned long darling.”

She gave the camera a smile and tilted her head for a moment, clearly formulating her last words. Nothing she said was ever spur of the moment. She did this methodically. That was another thing that kept her in the industry this long. Adaptability, Relentlessness and the ability to methodically rip her opponents apart. Time to wrap it up. It was getting late and there was still much to do to prepare for Sunday. Not to mention she had a hot man to get back to. While he wasn’t booked, he had come to support her, Miles and Carter in their respective matches.

“All that’s left to say now is I hope that you don’t let me down. I’m actually looking forward to facing you again. Especially since it’s for My Bombshell Roulette Championship. That’s right, mine. I bled for that title. I have yet to see you do the same. Enjoy what little time you have left with the title darling. Because on Sunday, it goes home with me. Sweet dreams Alicia, dream about your reign, it’s about to end.”

With that, she walks away towards the darkness, fading from view. Clear headed and ready to reclaim her Bombshell Roulette Championship.

Family Ties
The Sand Dollar
Las Vegas, Nevada

The rain was coming down hard enough to make the pavement hiss. Sixty-seven degrees, damp and dark, the kind of night Las Vegas rarely bothered with. Mika walked with her hands shoved into her jacket pockets, hair damp and clinging to her jaw as she crossed the cracked parking lot toward The Sand Dollar, a small, half-forgotten dive bar tucked between a tattoo parlor and a shuttered pawn shop.

The neon sign buzzed overhead, flickering blue through the rain. The door creaked when she pushed it open, and a wave of sound rolled out — low laughter, the clatter of pool balls, a jukebox whispering some old Tom Petty song about running down a dream. The air smelled like beer and damp wood, cigarette smoke caught in the rafters. It was familiar in the way only bad lighting and cheap whiskey could be.

She spotted Ally near the back, hunched over a high-top table, a beer sweating onto a napkin beside her.

Ally looked up when she saw her, the faintest grin cutting through the dim. “Hey, look who decided to crawl out of her cave.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Mika said, shrugging out of her damp jacket. “Figured I’d come haunt you.”

“It’s good to see you.” She offered a seat. “Congrats on your match last week. And welcome to Sin City Wrestling.” She held her drink. “Sorry it took me so long to bring it up. I was back here in Vegas.”

Mika shrugged and sat down, ordering herself a whiskey. “Thanks.” She swallowed it down in one gulp before ordering another. “Never thought I would see you living in the desert.”

She took a moment to think about it. She had moved to Vegas, a place she had never thought of moving to herself. “If you had told me a year ago that I’d be moving out here, I would have called you crazy. But I don’t know how to explain it. He made room in his life for us and it feels right.”

Mika glanced over, “Made room?” She asked, “That doesn’t sound right.” She grumbled into her drink. “So…you catching the red eye to Cali?”

“That’s not how I meant..” She sighed. “He made room in his place for us to move in.. you know.” Rolling her eyes. “I forgot I gotta be literal with you.”  She laughed. “Yeah I am. I had to have a conversation with Ash. But there’s also something else I need to ask you. And feel free to say no. You’ve always had my back and you know I appreciate it.” Taking a drink of the beer in front of her she looked over at her best friend for as long as she could remember, her sister in law. “There’s a bounty on my head from Vincent Lyons JR. And I need you to have my back if shit goes down. LJ and Miles, they can’t get involved if another Bombshell chooses to take that offer. There’s rules against that in SCW.”

Mika smirked and her eyes flashed dangerously. “They will never find her…or him if it really comes to it.” She looked over at Ally, “You never needed to ask.”

“Hey, I know my best friend, it’s better to ask.” She gave her a laugh. “The next round is on me.” She motioned for the bartender. “So tell me, what’s it like having the estate now?”

Mika groaned, “Too damn big. But I can avoid Damien for days if he really pisses me off so — silver lining.”

Alexandra laughed softly. “It was a big house with just Ash and I honestly. So I get it.” She took a large drink of her beer. “Hey at least there’s a massive library and you could always get some cows and horses out there. But I’m glad you all are settling in.”

The two friends spend time together drinking and catching up.

---

Flash of Glitter
Anaheim Convention Center
Anaheim, California

Anaheim, California, a place with some of the best memories for people. Disneyland being one of them, however, she wasn’t here for a trip to Disneyland with LJ and Ashlynn. No, this time she was here to fight against someone she had seen working her ass off in the industry. Candy. The camera fades in on Alexandra who is standing in front of a colorful fountain. Her eyes are solemn and fixed on the camera.

“Dear sweet little Princess in Pink Candy, our fun loving, glittery fairy. It seems that we must cross paths finally. I knew this day would come and we would find ourselves standing across the ring from each other. It’s a shock that it’s taken this long to happen, considering how we’ve gravitated in the same companies for years. It’s about time a company took you and showed you off, the way you deserve to be.”

She sits by one of the fountains and smiles brightly. Candy was a breath of fresh air, considering the looming bounty on her head. It was only a matter of time before one of the lovely ladies of Sin City Wrestling's Bombshell division, took Vincent up on that little offer. Cash for the head of Alexandra Calaway, what is this the Wild Wild West?

“Now this match comes at a dark time for me. At least I know you aren’t the type of woman to take a bribe from a mad man. You are far too good for that. Far too honest. Far too fair. But that’s the price you pay sometimes for doing the right thing. What can I say, I was protecting my man and Lyons took offense to it. I’d do it a thousand times over. If it comes down to it, I’ve taken out my own insurance policy. But enough about that, let’s get back to matters at hand, like us.”

She paused, looking into the shimmering water, the lights changing colors, dancing across her features. It was clear that she was lost in thought of the impending doom.

“I’m actually looking forward to this match. I’ve always wanted to be in that ring against you, since the first moment I saw you wrestle. I knew that it would get here eventually. In this business it’s only a matter of time. I’m excited to face you Candy, honestly, just glad that it's the opening round of the tournament. Which means we both have a golden opportunity ahead of us, all one of us needs to do, is win. And while I’d love to step back and go ahead, congratulate you. I simply cannot do that. I want you to know that no matter what goes on out there, be it the mysterious attacker that is lurking in the wings, just waiting for the right moment to strike, or the glitter I know you love to carry in your pockets, I plan on walking out the winner.”

Another quick moment of silence passes as Alexandra takes another breath. Everything seemed to be crashing out, but she had her resilience. Even after a string of losses, she had managed to pull one out with LJ by her side. Now it was time for her to prove that win wasn’t just a fluke. She was ready to get back on the pathway to the gold.

“It’s better this way, because now I get to see what you can do first hand. And you get to spend time fighting against someone you say you look up to. It’s a win/win for both of us, even if we lose, we got a memory to carry with us in the end. See you on Sunday Candy. Afterwards, we’ll get some cotton candy and hang out.” 

She gives the camera a two finger salute before walking away into the crisp Anaheim night, into the waiting arms of LJ Kasey.