~*~Told You So~*~
Backstage
Climax Control

The backstage hallway outside the Bombshell locker room had finally begun to settle down after the opening match. Production assistants hurried from one position to another, camera operators rolled equipment toward the entrance curtain, and ring crew members prepared for the next contest as the noise of the arena filtered through the concrete walls.

Bella Madison stepped through the curtain with a towel draped around her shoulders, still breathing a little heavier than normal after her victory over Mercedes Vargas. A few strands of blonde hair had escaped her braid, and there was already the beginning of a bruise forming across one shoulder.

She barely made it halfway down the hallway before she heard a familiar voice, "Well... I was right."

Bella looked over to find Victoria Lyons leaning against one of the equipment cases with her headset hanging around her neck after commentary, Bella grinned, "Which part?"

Victoria pushed herself upright, "The part where I said if Mercedes spent more time looking at me than looking at you, she'd regret it."

Bella laughed, "To be fair..." She adjusted the towel on her shoulders, "...she looked at you exactly long enough for me to plant her on her ass."

Victoria couldn't help laughing, "I noticed."

"And I appreciated it." Bella shook her head, "I ought to send you flowers."

Victoria folded her arms with a teasing smile, "Just flowers?"

"I mean..." Bella pretended to think, "...depends how expensive your taste is."

"My taste?" Victoria raised an eyebrow, "Honey, I'm a World Champion."

Bella immediately pointed at her, "See? That's exactly why I'm not buying you anything."

The two women laughed together. There wasn't any tension between them. They were both headed toward Summer XXXTreme, but on different roads, each chasing a championship in her own right. Tonight wasn't about any of that. It was simply two professionals acknowledging a job well done.

Victoria extended a hand, "You looked great out there."

Bella smiled before taking it, "So did you."

Victoria tilted her head, "Pfft, I was just sitting down."

"Hey, you still had to deal with Mercedes’ loud mouth."

"...Fair."

They both laughed again, the handshake lingering for another second before they let go.

"MOMMY!"

The shout echoed through the hallway, and Bella's entire demeanor changed, her shoulders relaxed and that competitive edge disappeared from her eyes. A smile spread across her face that only those closest to her ever got to see. She turned just in time to see a tiny blonde tornado sprinting toward her on surprisingly determined little legs.

"MOMMY!"

Bella crouched instinctively, "There she is!"

Máire launched herself forward and Bella caught her effortlessly, laughing as the little girl wrapped both arms around her neck.

"Oh, goodness." Bella stood back up with a theatrical grunt, "I swear you get bigger every single week."

"No!" Máire giggled, "I little!"

"You are little." Bella kissed the top of her head, "My very little girl."

Máire leaned back just enough to inspect the faint bruise on Bella's shoulder, "You owie?"

Bella looked down, "Oh..." and with a little shrug she answered, "Little owie."

Máire frowned, "Kiss?"

Bella smiled warmly, "You think that'll fix it?"

Máire gave an enthusiastic nod which in turn Bella turned her shoulder toward her, "Go ahead."

Máire planted an exaggerated kiss on the bruise before patting it twice with her tiny hand, "There."

Bella gasped dramatically, "It worked."

"I know."

Victoria couldn't help smiling at the entire exchange, Bella noticed and shifted Máire onto one hip.

"Oh!" She gestured toward Victoria, "I forgot that you two haven’t really met yet...Máire, this is Victoria, she is the current SCW Bombshell World Champion."

The little girl studied her for a few seconds with the intense seriousness only toddlers could manage, then she smiled, "Hi, Toria."

Victoria blinked, "...Toria?"

Bella immediately covered her mouth, trying, and failing, not to laugh, "I'm so sorry."

Victoria started laughing too, "No, no... I like it."

She crouched down slightly to be closer to Máire's eye level, "Hi, sweetheart."

Máire waved enthusiastically, "Toria."

Victoria pointed at herself, "That's me now, huh?"

Máire nodded "Toria."

Bella shook her head, "I don't think you've got any say in it."

Victoria chuckled, "I've had worse nicknames."

Máire reached out with one tiny finger toward the championship belt draped over Victoria's shoulder, "Oooo..."

Victoria glanced down, "You like that?"

"Shiny."

"It is pretty shiny."

Bella smiled knowingly, "She's fascinated with championship belts. You should see her at home, she’s constantly removing the titles from the shelves."

Máire nodded enthusiastically, "Pretty."

Victoria carefully slid the championship from her shoulder and lowered it enough for the little girl to admire, "You can touch it."

Tiny fingers immediately reached out, brushing across the gold plate with complete wonder, "Wooooow..."

Bella watched quietly, smiling to herself.

Victoria glanced back at Bella, "You know..." Victoria smiled, "I think she's got good taste. And who knows... you might have a third-generation wrestler on your hands."

"Well, the taste part? I've been telling her that for almost three years." Bella looked down at Máire with a smile, "The wrestling part... that's entirely up to her. If she wants this someday, I'll support her. If she doesn't, I'll cheer just as loud."

Victoria rested the title back over her shoulder while Máire continued staring at it with wide eyes, "You looked really good out there tonight," Victoria said, "Mercedes isn't someone you just walk through as you very well know."

Bella nodded appreciatively, "Coming from you, I'll take that."

"And now Summer XXXTreme is not that far off for the both of us."

"Yeah... me hanging over that pool again with those women. Dangling like a worm on a hook," Bella laughed softly, "Nothing says 'good idea' quite like being suspended over water while everyone tries to throw you in. History hasn't exactly been kind to me in those matches. If I've got an Achilles' heel, it's probably that one."

"Well the way things have been going for you lately, I have this sneaking suspicion that this year may be different," Victoria smiled knowingly, "And of course, I'll be watching."

"I figured you might." Bella smiled back, "I'll be watching yours, too."

There wasn't a challenge in either woman's voice, just respect between the two. One carrying the company's biggest prize with the other with an opportunity to add another championship to a résumé that had already earned plenty of respect.

"Mama?"

Bella looked down, "What is it, bug?"

Máire pointed back at Victoria with a grin, "Toria."

Victoria burst out laughing, "I have a feeling that's going to stick."

Bella chuckled as she adjusted her daughter on her hip, "I wouldn't bet against it."

"See you at Summer XXXTreme."

Bella glanced back over her shoulder, "Count on it."

Bella disappeared around the corner with Máire happily chatting away about "Toria," her tiny voice echoing down the hallway long after the two were out of sight.


~*~Where Do You Go From Here~*~
Two Weeks After Graduation
Late May 2019

The ocean stretched endlessly before them, every shade of blue imaginable blending together beneath a cloudless afternoon sky. Palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze while waves rolled onto the white sand below the deck of the secluded villa.

For the first time in months, Bella Madison wasn't supposed to be thinking about exams, or internships, or job offers. Or the endless stream of phone calls from professors, advisors and relatives who all seemed convinced they knew exactly what came next.

Instead, she sat barefoot on the railing of the deck with a tropical drink she hadn't touched in nearly half an hour. Her pink hair danced in the breeze as she stared out toward the horizon.

Mal watched her over the rim of her sunglasses, "We have been on vacation for three days."

Bella hummed absentmindedly, "And?"

"You've spent all three staring at the ocean like it owes you money."

That earned the smallest smile, "It might."

Mal laughed, "There she is."

Bella's smile disappeared almost as quickly as it came, "I don't know what I'm doing."

Mal frowned, "I thought that's what this trip was for."

Bella shook her head, "No..."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "I know what everyone else thinks I should do. My professors, my parents, people back in Paris and even some of them back in New York. They all have a plan and somehow every single one of those plans is different."

Mal tilted her head, "So ignore them."

Bella looked over, "If only it were that easy."

"Why isn't it?"

"Because every one of them says they're looking out for me and maybe they are. But after a while..." Bella sighed, "...you stop hearing concern. You just hear people telling you what your life is supposed to look like."

Silence settled between them.

Finally, Mal asked the question nobody else had, "What does Bella's plan look like?"


~*~Chosen Violence: Lay the Path~*~

The old red barn behind Bella Madison's home had long since stopped resembling the place it had once been. The original timber beams still stretched overhead, weathered by decades of New York winters, but everything beneath them had been transformed. A full-sized wrestling ring occupied the center of the building while thick crash mats covered large sections of the floor. Heavy bags hung from reinforced rafters alongside climbing ropes, gymnastic rings, balance beams and pull-up rigs.

Most noticeable of all, the steel cables. Stretched from beam to beam in the familiar X-pattern that every SCW fan knew all too well. An imitation of the Ultimate X structure.

It wasn't perfect but it didn't need to be.

It only needed to hurt and prepare her. She had been through it enough times, she knew what to expect but there had always been room for more.

Bella dropped from the cables onto one of the crash mats below, landing on both feet before rolling her shoulders. Sweat darkened the gray tank top she wore, and chalk dust clung to her hands after another afternoon spent climbing, balancing and forcing her body through the same motions over and over again.

She reached for the towel hanging from the ring post, wiping the sweat from her face before finally looking toward the camera.

"You know..." She glanced back up toward the cables, "...I've spent a lot of time staring at those things."

A small smile crossed her face.

"They're not the real ones but they're close enough for the purpose."

Bella tossed the towel back over the ropes.

"Everybody trains for wrestling matches the same. They work on cardio, they hit the weights, they drill all those holds that were drilled into our heads at the schools. But this..."

She pointed toward the ceiling.

"...this isn't your typical wrestling match. This is controlled chaos, a chaos where you aren't trying to pin somebody and you aren't trying to make them submit. You're trying to stay alive long enough to make somebody else hit the water."

She folded her arms.

"And that's why I've spent weeks in this barn since the match was announced because I refuse to let this match beat me before I ever step onto that cruise ship."

Bella nodded once.

"So let’s begin shall we, and we’ll start right at the top of it with Brittany Williams, the Bombshell Roulette Champion."

A respectful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"You earned that championship, you didn't luck into that championship. You've fought through every challenge put in front of you, and now everyone is coming after what you have. That's pressure and you've handled it well."

Her expression hardened.

"But being the champion also paints the biggest target. In Ultimate X, everyone eventually looks at the title. They also look at the woman carrying it. If Brittany spends one second trying to protect the championship instead of protecting herself..."

Bella pointed toward the floor.

"...she'll be taking an early swim."

She shifted her weight.

"Frankie Holliday." Bella laughed quietly, "I don't think Frankie has ever had a conventional thought in her life. And honestly...I respect the hell out of that. She's unpredictable, fearless and the kind of person willing to jump first and figure out the landing later."

She nodded.

"In most matches, that's terrifying. In this one though....it might also be exactly what gets her eliminated because sometimes the difference between fearless and reckless is about six inches."

Bella looked back toward the cables overhead.

"Harper Mason. If this turns into a test of strength..."

Bella smirked.

"...I'm not volunteering. Harper's got an interesting thing amongst us, she’s deceivingly powerful. She's built to throw people around and if she gets both hands on you near the edge of that platform..."

She whistled softly.

"...good luck. But here's the problem. You can't overpower gravity. It’s an absolute heartless bitch and you can't muscle your way across those cables. You either have balance...or you don't."

Her eyes returned to the camera.

"Seleana Zdunich."

Bella's smile returned, this time carrying genuine admiration.

"I've shared enough locker rooms with Seleana to know exactly who she is. She's disciplined and patient and she's one of the smartest competitors in this company....when she doesn't rush. If she focuses enough she can wait so patiently that it can drive a person mad. She lets everyone else create the opening...then she takes advantage of it."

Bella nodded thoughtfully.

"That makes her dangerous because if you forget she's there for even a second...that's usually the second she reminds you."

She unfolded her arms.

"And then there's me."

Bella looked around the barn.

"The first time I competed in this match...I thought I understood it. I didn't. I thought it was about climbing and just holding on for dear life. It isn't. I thought it was about reaching the championship. It isn't."

She looked back up toward the cables suspended above her.

"It's about making sure four other women never get there before you do. I've fallen. I've watched somebody else celebrate while I climbed out of that pool wondering where it all went wrong. I don't have to imagine that feeling. I remember it."

She stepped forward until she stood just a few feet from the camera.

"So this year...I'm not walking into Ultimate X hoping history changes. I'm making damn sure it does."

Her voice stayed calm.

"Brittany. Frankie. Harper. Seleana. I have more than once told you how much I have respected every one of you. I know exactly what you're capable of and because I know exactly what you're capable of...I'm preparing to beat every single one of you."

Bella glanced over her shoulder one last time at the homemade Ultimate X rig hanging from the rafters.

"I built this. I've bled in this barn. I've fallen off those cables more times than I can count. So when I walk onto that ship...nothing about that match will surprise me."

She looked back into the camera, a quiet confidence settling across her face.

"You don't win Ultimate X by hoping someone else makes a mistake. You win it by making sure they do and you win it by forcing them to."

Bella gave one final nod.

"I'll see you over the pool."

~*~The Negotiations Have Failed~*~
O'Connell Home
New York
Late Evening

By the time Bella reached page twenty-three, she knew she was losing. Not the story but the war that she was currently having with her 2.5 year old daughter. Máire sat beside her in bed wearing dinosaur pajamas and the expression of someone who had absolutely no intention of participating in bedtime regardless of what the adults in the room wanted.

Bella held the book open in one hand, doing her best to commit to the voices. "And then the brave little rabbit looked at the moon and said..."

"Mama?"

Bella closed her eyes, the rabbit wasn't even done with the sentence. "Yes, baby?"

"Can rabbits drive cars?"

The question hung in the air as Bella stared at the page, then at her daughter and then back at the page. "No."

"Why?"

"Because rabbits don't have driver's licenses."

Máire accepted that answer immediately....For roughly six seconds, "Can sheep drive cars?"

Bella looked toward the ceiling. "Sweetheart..."

"What about cows?"

"No."

"What about chickens?"

"No."

"Papa?"

Bella pinched the bridge of her nose. "Your father absolutely should not be allowed to drive a chicken."

Máire dissolved into giggles, which would have been adorable if Bella wasn't currently watching bedtime drift farther and farther away. Somewhere downstairs a clock chimed. It was already 9:30 and Bella had started this process nearly an hour ago.

She tried again, "The rabbit looked at the moon and said..."

"Mama?"

"WHAT?" The answer came out faster and a whole lot shorter than intended, which caused Máire to blink at her with big blue eyes and Bella immediately softened, "Sorry."

The little girl climbed into her lap, her tiny hands reached up and touched Bella's face, "Mama tired?"

Bella laughed despite herself, "Very."

"You need a nap."

"That would've been wonderful three hours ago."

The toddler nodded solemnly as if she'd just solved an important problem...before she had a burst of energy, immediately launched herself upright, standing up on her mattress and immediately started jumping.

"Oh no." Bella watched the energy return in real time, it was like the child had somehow discovered a second battery, "Máire..."

BOUNCE.

"Máire."

BOUNCE.

"Máire Nicola O'Connell."

The full government name...that got her attention and the bouncing stopped immediately. The tiny blonde menace looked directly at her mother, "Mama?"

"Lay down."

"Why?"

Bella stared, because of course....because of course they would be raising a child that questioned absolutely fucking everything like her parents do, "Because it is bedtime."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"Sweetheart, you've yawned twenty times."

"No."

"You literally fell asleep sitting upright at dinner because you refused to take an afternoon nap!"

"No."

Bella looked toward the bedroom door, like maybe divine intervention might finally arrive. Instead the door opened and Mal stepped inside carrying a cup of coffee he definitely didn't need. One look at the scene told him everything; the abandoned storybook, the bouncing child and the increasingly frazzled wife.

The fact that Bella's hair was starting to escape the ponytail because she'd run her hands through it so many times.

Mal immediately started laughing and Bella pointed at him, "Don't."

That only made it worse, "How long has this been going on?"

"Three years."

"I meant tonight."

"Also three years."

Mal leaned against the doorframe trying and failing to stop smiling.

"Mama's losing," Máire announced proudly.

Bella gasped, “The betrayal."

"You're losing pretty badly."

"I am sitting right here."

"I know."

"You are supposed to support me."

"I do support you." He pointed at their daughter, "Unfortunately, she's winning."

Máire threw both hands in the air, "WINNING!"

Bella dropped backward onto the bed dramatically, "I'm being outsmarted by a toddler."

"You were outsmarted by a toddler yesterday when she found the hidden fruit snacks in the pantry and climb up four shelves to get to them."

"That doesn't count."

"It absolutely counts."

Bella buried her face in a pillow, then pointed toward her husband without looking, "Tag in."

Mal grinned, "What?"

"Tag. In."

"Bella..."

"Malachi."

The use of the full name made him laugh again.

"You are her father."

"Last I checked."

"You made her."

"I do recall that it was a team effort."

Bella finally sat up and shoved the storybook into his chest, "Your turn."

Mal accepted the book, then leaned down and kissed the top of Bella's head, "Go downstairs."

"What?"

"Go." His voice softened, "I got her."

Bella hesitated but not because she didn't trust him but because she desperately wanted to stay and help. Then she looked at Máire, who had somehow started upside-down crawling across the bed and immediately changed her mind.

"You know what?" she stood, "She's all yours."

"I know."

"I love both of you."

"We know."

Bella pointed at their daughter, "Less right now."

"DADA!"

"See?"

Mal laughed, "Go drink your tea."

Bella blinked at him, "What tea?"

"The tea I made you twenty minutes ago because I knew this would happen."

That stopped her and she smiled a small, real smile, "You know me way too well."

"Well I did marry you."

She would close the door to the sounds of her daughter being tackled on the bed by her daddy, and he could get caught in the book trap for a while.

She descended the stairs and into their massive living room that had a nice fire going and right next to the couch as Mal promised was a cup of tea, with a book that she had been slowly working her way through and one of the softest blankets in the house.

Once she got over there, she just turned on her heels and plopped into the corner, reaching up and wrapping herself tightly. She knew getting through these terrible two’s was gonna be trying but this was a whole new level.

After a few deep breaths, she took a sip of her lukewarm tea and grabbed her book. She did start reading, or at least attempted too but her mind started to wander, as did her eyes. After a moment, she landed on one particular one.

The photograph had always made it look cleaner than it really was.

Whenever Bella looked at it now, she saw the smiling faces first. Nick Madison standing proudly on one side of her, Laura Phoenix standing on the other and Eighteen-year-old Bella in the middle holding a certificate and looking like she had everything figured out.

What the photograph never captured was how angry she'd been that day, not outwardly, not the kind of anger that made her yell or throw things.

The quieter kind.

The kind that sat in your chest and stayed there.


~~The First Time She Finished It~~

Phoenix Wrestling Academy
Graduation Day
Years Earlier

Looking back, Bella couldn't remember what her entrance music had been that afternoon.

She couldn't remember what she had eaten beforehand, couldn't remember who wrestled before her, and she certainly couldn't remember what color the ring gear had been that day.

What she remembered was the conversation, more specifically, she remembered the look on his face when he said it, "I'm gonna hurt her."

Not because he thought he was better, not because he wanted to win but because somewhere along the way he had convinced himself that Bella Madison didn't belong in the position she was in, and hurting her would somehow prove it.

The older Bella got, the more she realized people like that weren't uncommon. There were always going to be people who needed an explanation for someone else's success. There were always going to be people who found it easier to blame a last name than acknowledge years of work.

At eighteen, though? At eighteen it had pissed her off.

The ring introductions had come and gone in a blur. Bella remembered standing across from him while the referee explained the rules, and she remembered thinking how strange it was that somebody could spend years training beside another person and still know absolutely nothing about them.

Because if he had known her, truly known her, he would've understood something important. The daughter of Laura Phoenix and Nick Madison was the person standing across from him, but at the end of the day, she was more than that. She was more than the sum of the upbringing she had. On this day, she was just Bella Madison, a student of the academy that earned this moment.

The bell rang.

The crowd of mostly students and family applauded politely as both competitors stepped forward for the opening lockup. Families filled the bleachers, students lined the walls and the trainers stood near ringside watching the final graduating class prepare to have their showcase matches.

For most people in attendance, this was supposed to be a celebration.

For him, it was apparently a grudge and Bella felt it immediately.

The first lockup ended with him driving her backward into the ropes harder than necessary. The referee separated them and offered a warning, but the guy simply nodded and backed away wearing a grin that practically announced he wasn't sorry.

Bella rolled her shoulders once and stepped back toward the center of the ring.

The second exchange wasn't much better as he dug a forearm into her jaw while they jockeyed for position, using just enough force to make it hurt and just little enough to stay within the gray area of what a referee might allow.

The crowd reacted and he just smiled, Bella said nothing.

She tied up again and the third time he buried an elbow into her ribs. The fourth time he shoved her after a break. The fifth time he stepped on her hand while pretending it had been an accident.

Each act by itself was small but taken together? The message was obvious, he wasn't interested in wrestling. He was interested in making sure everyone knew he wasn't.

The crowd slowly started turning on him as the match continued and Bella could hear it. There was a scattering of boos and frustrated murmurs. The growing realization that one competitor was trying to have a wrestling match while the other was trying to settle some imaginary score.

At one point he caught her with a forearm that snapped her head sideways hard enough to stagger her backward a step.

Bella tasted blood immediately.

The inside of her cheek had split against her teeth. She wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist and saw the faint smear of red. When she looked up, he was smiling a sick look right back at her.

Not smiling because he was winning, smiling because he thought he'd finally accomplished something. The trainers started barking that they were there to wrestle and not hurt each other, but she could hear Nick stop them.

That was the moment Bella started feeling sorry for him, not much but just enough because she finally understood that this wasn't confidence. It was insecurity wearing confidence like a cheap Halloween costume.

The referee moved between them briefly while Bella regained her footing and across the ring, her opponent paced like he was preparing for war.

Bella's eyes drifted past him, toward the crowd and toward her parents. Nick Madison stood near ringside with his arms folded across his chest. His expression hadn't changed all afternoon. He wasn't angry, he wasn't worried, he wasn't shouting instructions but he was watching. Watching the same way he always watched, expecting her to figure it out.

Bella's gaze shifted again, to Laura Phoenix was standing a few feet away. Unlike Nick, Laura looked mildly annoyed, not at Bella but at the idiot currently trying to prove a point. The second Laura noticed Bella looking over, she simply shrugged. The gesture was small, almost dismissive but Bella knew exactly what it meant, ‘Fuckin’ make him pay.’

Bella almost laughed, before she looked back across the ring. This asshole was still talking shit, still posturing and still trying to convince himself he was accomplishing something.

For the first time all match, Bella stopped being angry.

The frustration disappeared. The irritation disappeared. Even the embarrassment disappeared.

All that remained was clarity, because she suddenly realized something.

He wasn't wrestling her. He was wrestling a version of her that existed entirely inside his own head and that meant she had already won.

The next exchange happened quickly, not because Bella sped up but because he got impatient. Every time he'd thrown something cheap, Bella had stayed composed. Every time he'd tried to provoke her, she'd refused to bite.

The fact that she wasn't reacting was driving him crazy. When he charged forward again, he did so with all the subtlety of a freight train blaring it’s horn at a high rate of speed.

Bella immediately saw the opening.

Years later she would spend countless hours thinking about moments like this, the opportunities she missed, the chances she hesitated on and the times she second-guessed herself.

This wasn't one of those times.

At eighteen years old, Bella trusted her instincts completely and she didn't stop to analyze and didn't stop to question. She also didn't stop to wonder if it was the right moment.

She simply acted.

His weight shifted too far forward, his footing narrowed and his balance disappeared. Bella slipped underneath him, secured the arm, and turned her hips in one smooth motion. The takedown happened so cleanly that for a brief moment the entire building seemed surprised by it.

One second they were standing, the next, Bella was sitting on the mat with his arm trapped firmly against her chest. The realization hit him before the pain did and Bella saw it happen in real time.

The exact moment his eyes widened, the exact moment he understood where he was. The exact moment he realized he had made a mistake.

Then Bella extended her hips, the scream that followed echoed throughout the gymnasium, not because she was trying to hurt him, because the armbar was perfect.

Every inch of leverage was exactly where it needed to be. Every angle worked against him.

Years of repetition had made the movement second nature.

The crowd erupted immediately, the referee dropped beside them.

His free hand slapped frantically at Bella's grip while his legs kicked against the mat looking for some kind of escape. There wasn't one.

Bella could feel him fighting, could feel him twisting, could feel the panic growing stronger every second but she did not relent and used every ounce of her small frame and weight against him.

The entire afternoon had been built around the idea that Bella Madison wasn't as good as people thought she was and now the entire building was watching him discover the opposite.

"Do you submit?"

"No!"

The answer came instantly, full of despair, emotion and just too damn proud to accept defeat.

Bella adjusted her grip slightly, it wasn’t anything dramatic or malicious. And it was just enough as his next scream was louder and you could hear the crowd wince in pity for him.

The referee asked again, followed by another refusal, adjustment and quickly another cry of pain.

Bella never changed her expression, never yelled, celebrated or even taunted him, as much as she wanted to, because this wasn't personal anymore. That was the funny part, it had stopped being personal the moment she realized he needed it to be.

Eventually his free hand started hovering above the canvas, the fight was gone, the confidence was gone and his anger was gone. All that remained was somebody desperately trying to hold onto their pride.

Bella looked directly at him, then spoke for the first time since the match began. "Tap."

Her voice wasn't angry or even threatening. It was certain.

He held on for another second, then another and then reality finally caught up with him.

His hand slammed against the mat three times followed by the bell ringing and just like that, it was over. Bella released the hold immediately and stood.

As the crowd cheered around her, she looked down at him sitting on the canvas clutching his arm.

For months he had told himself she didn't belong there. For months he had convinced himself there had to be another reason, explanation or even a pathetic excuse.

Now there wasn't.

Because for the first time all afternoon, nobody was looking at Nick Madison or even at Laura Phoenix.

Everybody in that building was looking at Bella.

~*~~*~~*~

Bella was still staring at the photograph when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later Mal appeared in the doorway, looking far too pleased with himself.

Bella glanced up from her book, "She's asleep?"

Mal nodded. "Finally."

Bella laughed. "That bad?"

"It took 3 stories and a few songs before she finally zonked out. I feel like I’ve negotiated with terrorists."

"She's two and a half."

"Exactly." He disappeared briefly into the kitchen before soft music drifted through the house. Bella immediately recognized the song and groaned.

"Oh no."

Mal returned with a grin already spreading across his face. "Oh yes."

The opening notes of “My Cherie Amour” filled the room as he held out his hand. Bella looked from him to the stereo and back again. "You are such a sap."

"And yet here you are." Despite herself, she smiled and set her book aside. Mal pulled her to her feet and slipped an arm around her waist. Bella immediately started laughing as he guided her into a slow dance in the middle of the living room. "Your daughter gets all her stubbornness from you, by the way."

"My daughter?"

"Our daughter."

Mal shook his head. "Not tonight. She's all yours."

Bella laughed again and rested her head against his shoulder. For a few moments neither of them spoke. The fire crackled softly nearby while Stevie Wonder played in the background.

It was simple, quiet and normal, the kind of moment neither of them got enough of.

Bella finally glanced up at him. "You know you're a giant softie, right?"

Mal snorted. "Don't ruin my reputation."

She smiled. It was far too late for that and for a little while, the wrestling world stayed far away while Malachi O'Connell made sure his girls were taken care of.


~*~Chosen Violence: Bella's Quiet Revenge~*~
New York

The property was quiet in that way only a summer evening could be.

The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold that stretched across the trees surrounding the O'Connell property. Somewhere behind the house, Luka was barking at something that probably didn't warrant the level of concern he was displaying. A gentle breeze rolled across the yard, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sounds of life moving along without permission from anybody.

Bella Madison walked slowly across the property with her hands buried in the pockets of her hoodie. She wasn't heading anywhere in particular, at least not physically. Her boots carried her across familiar ground while her mind worked through something far less comfortable.

For a while she simply walked with the house sitting behind her and the barn standing ahead of her. Somewhere inside that house was her husband and her daughter. The two people who had somehow become the center of her universe without her ever realizing exactly when it happened.

Three years ago she would've been in that barn already. Five years ago she probably would've been angry enough to tear the door off its hinges. Now she was walking, thinking, and taking her time.

The difference wasn't age, the difference was understanding. Eventually she stopped and looked toward the barn and she laughed, not because anything was funny, because something finally made sense.

"Frankie, do you know what I've realized over the last few weeks?"

Bella shook her head slightly.

"The funny thing about losing is that everybody always assumes they know what part hurts the most. They think it's the embarrassment. They think it's the disappointment. They think it's having your hand raised by somebody else while you're forced to stand there and watch."

A small smile crossed her face.

"The problem is that most people have never actually lost something that mattered."

She started walking again, slowly, and comfortably like somebody having a conversation instead of delivering a speech.

"See, I've lost enough matches in my career that I should probably be used to it by now. I've lost championship opportunities. I've lost title matches. I've lost moments that I thought were going to change everything. Hell, I've lost matches that I still think about years later when I can't sleep."

She shrugged.

"That's part of this business." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What pissed me off about Into the Void wasn't the result."

Bella's voice became firmer.

"What pissed me off was walking into that hallway afterward and realizing I was staring at the same problem I've been staring at for years."

She stopped walking, the barn was closer now, not close enough to touch but still close enough to see.

"I knew better." The words came out without hesitation. "I knew exactly what was happening."

She pointed toward herself.

"I knew what was happening, Frankie. That's the part that made me sick afterward. I wasn't standing in that hallway wondering what went wrong. I knew what went wrong. I could have sat there and replayed the whole damn match move by move and pointed out every place where I should have trusted myself sooner. Every place where I saw the opening and waited one second too long. Every place where I let caution convince me I had more time than I actually did. That's not ignorance. That's worse. That's knowing better and doing it anyway."

Bella's jaw tightened.

"And somehow I was still standing there trying to calculate everything instead of trusting myself."

The frustration wasn't explosive, that made it worse as it was controlled and focused, the kind of anger that had been sitting quietly for weeks.

"Do you know how maddening that is, Frankie? Do you know what it feels like to spend years climbing your way through this business only to realize that the biggest obstacle you've got left is staring back at you every time you look in a mirror?"

She laughed, the sound carried no humor whatsoever.

"Because that's what finally broke me. Not the loss. The realization."

A slow breath escaped her.

"The realization that I was still doing the same damn thing I've always done."

Bella shook her head.

"I was still hesitating. That admission comes so easily now. I was still worrying about timing. I was still worrying about the consequences. I was still worrying about making the right decision instead of making a decision."

A bitter smile appeared on her face.

"And the women who kept beating me?"

She nodded.

"They weren't."

The smile disappeared.

"Kayla wasn't. Victoria wasn't. You aren't."

Bella looked directly into the camera.

"Because women like you don't stand there wondering whether the moment is right. You take it. You see an opening and you exploit it. You see weakness and you attack it. You see hesitation and you punish it."

Her voice remained calm.

"But here's the part I finally understand."

She took a few more steps forward.

"I spent years thinking that meant becoming somebody else."

Bella laughed softly.

"God, how wrong I’ve been, was...whatever."

The barn door stood only a short distance away now.

"I thought becoming more dangerous meant becoming cruel. I thought becoming more successful meant becoming colder. I thought becoming a killer meant sacrificing pieces of myself."

She shook her head.

"No."

A slow smile spread across her face.

"I spent years trying to make everybody comfortable with me. I tried being reasonable. I tried being patient. I tried being the version of Bella Madison that everybody could root for without feeling threatened by. Do you know where that got me? It got me a whole lot of respect and a whole lot of stories about how close I was. People respected me. People admired me. People talked about how tough I was. Then they watched somebody else climb the ladder, win the title, or seize the opportunity I was standing right next to. At some point I got tired of being respected for losing."

The words hung in the air, comfortably, confidently as Bella looked back toward the house toward her family, toward everything she'd built and then she looked forward again.

"You know what the biggest difference between me and the woman who walked into Into the Void is?"

Her smile widened.

"The woman who walked into Into the Void was still trying to prove something. I'm not. The woman who walked into Into the Void was still asking whether she belonged. I'm not. The woman who walked into Into the Void was still looking for permission."

Bella's expression hardened.

"I'm definitely not."

The confidence in her voice wasn't manufactured, it wasn't bravado, it was certainty. The kind that only comes after you've spent weeks forcing yourself to confront uncomfortable truths.

"So let's talk about you, Frankie." Bella folded her arms. "You've accomplished damn near everything there is to accomplish in this company. You're a former World Champion. You won Blast From The Past. You've built a reputation on being one of the smartest and most dangerous women in this division."

Bella nodded.

"You earned that."

The compliment landed, then came the knife.

"But somewhere along the way I think you started believing everybody else was still catching up."

The breeze rolled across the property, Bella didn't move.

"You talk like somebody who already knows how the story ends."

Her gaze sharpened.

"You talk like somebody who's spent so much time being the smartest person in the room that she stopped considering the possibility that everyone else might have learned something. That's dangerous, not for me but for Frankie. You keep looking at me and seeing the same woman."

The smile disappeared.

"The problem is that woman don't exist anymore and yes it is that fucking simple."

Bella stepped closer to the barn.

"I've spent the last several months getting my ass kicked by reality. Kayla taught me something. Victoria taught me something. The Queen For A Day match taught me something. Into the Void taught me something. And Bea Barnhart?"

Bella laughed.

"Bea got to learn what happens when all those lessons finally start coming together."

The barn door was directly in front of her now. She rested one hand against the weathered wood.

"Everybody keeps talking about how physically demanding that Falls Count Anywhere match was. They're right."

Her smile returned.

"Everything hurt. My ribs hurt. My back hurt. My knees hurt. I spent two days feeling like I got hit by a truck."

Bella nodded.

"That's all true."

Then her eyes locked onto the camera one last time.

"But if your game plan is built around the idea that Bella Madison is weakened because she got into a fight last week? You haven't been paying attention. Because the body heals. The bruises fade. The soreness goes away. The cuts close."

Bella's hand tightened slightly against the barn door.

"But confidence? Confidence lasts and for the first time in a very long time, I know exactly who I'm walking into that ring as."

She opened the barn door, the darkness beyond waited.

"You're expecting the version of me that keeps hesitating."

Bella stepped inside.

"Good luck finding her."

The door closed behind her.

~*~After the Bell: The Sound Right Before Breaking~*~
Into the Void XV
Backstage
Osaka, Japan

The hallway was empty except for the sound of the arena bleeding through the walls of muted bass from entrance music, a distant crowd reaction and Production crates rattling somewhere far off down another corridor.

Life continues.

Bella Madison hated that it was continuing. The Queen for a Day crown was gone, the match was over and the adrenaline had nowhere left to go now except inward, and that was always the dangerous part.

Her boots hit the concrete too fast at first. She wasn’t running, but close enough that anyone watching would know not to stop her. Her gear was still half-torn from the match and the sweat dried cold against the back of her neck. A bruise had already started blooming near her shoulder where the ladder caught her wrong.

She turned a corner sharply, followed by another and then another, until finally there was nobody around. No cameras or interviewers, no where to catch any sympathetic looks or someone to tell her it was a “great effort.” or a “You’ll get ‘em next time.”. It was just silence.

Bella slowed her steps and her breathing wasn’t steady anymore but she wasn’t panicking or crying.

But you could just see it on her face that something was wrong, like every inhale stopped halfway down.

She reached the wall first with one hand, palm flattening against the concrete hard enough to put pressure on her hand. Her head dipped, blonde hair falling partially across her face as she tried to steady herself through sheer force of will.

It didn’t work, because all she could see was the moment again.

Bella squeezed her eyes shut, “Fuck...”

The word barely came out as her other hand curled into a fist at her side so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her jaw flexed so tight that her cheeks sucked in. Her shoulders rose with a sharp inhale she couldn’t control.

She pushed off the wall, and then immediately hit it again harder with a loud THUD. Her forearm slammed against the concrete this time and the noise echoed down the corridor.

“Goddammit!”

Her voice cracked louder than she meant it to. Bella turned suddenly, pacing two uneven steps before yanking the athletic tape loose from around her wrist with violent frustration and she let the tape hit the floor first, quickly followed by one of her leather wristbands, quickly followed by the other.

A bottle of water that was near by her with no owner, that followed next, hurled hard enough against the opposite wall that it exploded on impact, water spraying across the concrete like shrapnel.

Her chest heaved and it was still not enough. What she was feeling, it still wasn't OUT.

“NO!” The scream ripped out of her before she could stop it. It was about as raw as it could get. It was the sound of someone furious at themselves in a way nobody else could reach.

Bella staggered backward until her shoulders hit the wall again. Then slowly, very slowly, she slid downward against it until she hit the floor. She sat there with one knee bent and the other stretched out awkwardly. Her hands tangled into her own hair now.

And for a few seconds? There was nothing. Pure nothingness, no yelling, no movement. Just breathing that sounded dangerously close to breaking apart completely. Her eyes burned, but she refused to let anything fall.

“I was RIGHT there...” she whispered hoarsely.

The words made it worse, because she was.

That was the unbearable part. She was close enough to touch it again and close enough to feel it leave.

Bella dropped her head back against the wall with a dull thunk, followed by another shaky breath. Then a bitter laugh escaped her that sounded more exhausted than amused, “What the fuck is wrong with me....”

The question hung there unanswered.

Her fingers curled against the floor, her nails that would probably need another manicure scraped across the floor and then they formed into fists before they loosened again. The anger was still there, alive and crawling under her skin like a parasite, but now it was mixing with something heavier and something a lot uglier.

It was doubt...not in her talent, she knew she was swimming in that... and not in her toughness because there was not one single solitary bitch in the back that could even attempt to discredit that at their own peril.

But it was doubt...in herself.

Because what if this was it? What if she really was the woman who “got almost there” forever? What if all those moments people called “growth” were just prettier versions of losing?

Bella’s breathing hitched again and her blue eyes squeezed shut hard enough to hurt.

And then she heard footsteps, two sets approaching quickly from different sides. And Bella didn’t move and didn’t look up because if it was someone or in this case, someones coming to finish her off...fucking let them.

But then she heard them stop and there was a moment of silence before one of them spoke up, one soft voice filled with immediate concern, “Oh, Bella...”

Another followed right behind it, warmer, closer, “Honey... are you okay?”


~*~The Parts Worth Coming Home To~*~
New York
Three Weeks After Into the Void XV

The barn doors were open for the first time in days, not because Bella was training, not because she was punishing herself and not because she was trying to chase something that kept slipping through her fingers.

Just because spring had finally decided to really show up and it was warm enough outside to let the air in.

Late afternoon sunlight spilled through the opening in long golden strips, cutting across the old canvas ring and the padded floor below. Dust floated lazily through the beams of light every time someone moved too fast. Which, currently, was almost always.

Máire O’Connell tore across the ring at full toddler speed, which somehow looked both wildly uncoordinated and terrifyingly committed at the same time. Her tiny boots bounced against the canvas as she shrieked with laughter, clutching one of Bella’s old wristbands like it was a priceless artifact.

“No no NO!” Malachi called dramatically from behind her as he climbed through the ropes, in full on play-dad mode, “The tiny criminal has stolen property again!”

Máire gasped loudly like she had just been accused in federal court. Bella sat cross-legged in the corner of the ring watching the whole thing unfold, her chin resting against her hand, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“Oh wow,” she deadpanned, "That’s serious. I guess we better call somebody.”

“I am somebody,” Mal argued as he lunged forward wildly.

Máire squealed and immediately changed direction, nearly falling over her own feet before recovering with the inexplicable balance only toddlers seemed capable of possessing, “CAN’T CATCH ME!”

“Pffft, someone’s smack talk is getting stronger,” Bella observed casually.

“She gets that from you.”

“Unfortunately.”

“HEY!” Mal protested as Bella finally laughed, the sound softer than it used to be a few months ago and a lot realer, too.

That was the thing she had not expected after Osaka, after the match and after the loss....After sitting on that hallway floor wondering if she was ever going to stop feeling like she was standing one second away from becoming something bigger only to watch it vanish again...She thought coming home would feel like failure.

Instead it just felt like home, just like it should.

Máire darted toward Bella suddenly and practically launched herself into her lap. Bella caught her automatically, grunting slightly as tiny knees collided with her stomach, “OOF! Jesus, child.”

“Mama save me!” Máire announced heroically.

Mal climbed dramatically onto the apron, narrowing his eyes, "Now listen here,” he said, pointing at his daughter and wife accusingly, "Are you harboring fugitives in this establishment?”

Bella adjusted Máire against her hip and shrugged lazily, "I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That is criminal conspiracy.”

“You cannot prove anything of the sort, officer.”

Máire pointed at Mal and yelled, “BAD GUY!”

Mal clutched his chest like he’d been shot, “Oh, now that’s betrayal. I mean, I’ve been called that before but by my own flesh and blood....devistating!”

Bella snorted quietly and kissed the top of Máire’s head before setting her back down onto the mat, "Okay,” Bella said, clapping once, "Go terrorize your father properly.”

Máire needed absolutely no further instruction and she immediately tackled Mal around the leg. The attack was ineffective in every conceivable way but Mal sold it like death anyway, “AAAGH!!! THE HUMANITY!!!!”

Máire collapsed into hysterical giggles while Bella leaned back against the bottom turnbuckle, arms loosely folded over her knees as she watched them and for a little while that was enough.

Outside the sky was growing darker and drearier like forecasted and the barn creaked softly as the wind moved outside. Somewhere beyond the trees, thunder rolled low in the distance, but it sounded far away enough not to matter yet.

Mal finally collapsed flat on his back in the center of the ring while Máire stood triumphantly on his stomach.

“I have been defeated,” he announced solemnly.

“Mama win too!” Máire declared immediately.

Bella raised an eyebrow, "Oh? I wasn’t aware I was competing.”

“You are ALWAYS competing,” Mal muttered from the mat and that got him a look, not a defensive one or even a wounded one but just thoughtful. Because a few months ago? He would’ve been right.

Bella had spent so long treating every moment like something she had to earn through pain that she forgot what it felt like to simply exist inside it, to let things be good without immediately wondering when they would disappear.

Mal looked over at her then, catching the expression on her face, "You okay?” he asked more quietly.

Bella looked around the barn, at the ring and at her husband pretending to die under a thirty-pound tyrant and more specifically at her daughter’s wild blonde curls bouncing every time she laughed.

Then she looked down at her own hands, that was completely bare. Just hands her hand and maybe that mattered more than she realized.

“Yeah,” Bella answered softly after a moment.

And this time?

She actually meant it.


~*~Chosen Violence: Some People Mistake Survival for Importance~*~
New York
The Barn
Night

It had been non-stop pouring for the whole day and into the deep dark night. The rain hit the roof hard enough to sound like static. The kind that came down sideways in sheets and rattled old wood like it was trying to get inside.

The barn lights were low again tonight, though not nearly as harsh as they used to be. The ring sat under a pale wash of white while the rest of the building faded into shadow beyond it. Somewhere in the distance thunder rolled across the sky, low and ugly.

Bella Madison sat alone on the apron dressed in black joggers, with a black tank top with her long blonde hair done up in a loose braid and swept to the side. Her hands wrapped loosely tonight, not because she needed them taped, but because habit still mattered sometimes.

A steel chair rested unfolded beside her.

Bella leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees as she stared out across the empty barn for a few long seconds before finally speaking.

“Bea Barnhart.”

A slow exhale escaped her nose.

“You know... there are people in this business who survive for so long that eventually everyone mistakes that survival for importance.”

Her eyes lifted slowly toward the camera.

“You and Bill mastered that trick a long time ago.”

There was no shouting in her voice tonight, with no rage and no frantic edge that was left over from Osaka.

Bella sounded calm, that was the dangerous part now....

“You’ve both been spending years circling this company like parasites pretending you’re part of the foundation. Interfering, complaining and sneaking around consequences long enough that people stopped expecting anything else from you.”

She shrugged one shoulder lightly.

“And honestly? That’s fine. Every division needs people like you. Every story needs somebody willing to crawl through broken glass for attention instead of greatness.”

A faint smirk crossed her face.

“You just happened to confuse surviving with mattering.”

The rain hammered even harder overhead. Bella reached down absentmindedly and nudged the steel chair slightly with her foot, the metal scraping softly against the concrete.

“This match?” she continued, "A match so graciously bestowed upon his Majesty, Ryan Keys is Falls Count Anywhere against Bea Barnhart? That sounds less like a wrestling match and more like punishment for whatever sins I apparently committed lately.”

“But then I remembered something.”

She sat upright slowly now.

“I stopped asking for permission to enjoy this part. You see Bea... people keep acting like I’m angry all the time now. Like I’m one bad night away from completely losing my mind.”

Bella tilted her head slightly.

“And maybe a few months ago they would’ve been right.”

She spun herself carefully and pulled herself up, standing up on the apron now, stepping into the ring in one smooth motion.

“But the difference between then and now is that I finally understand myself enough to know the difference between chaos and choice.”

Her boots echoed softly against the canvas as she paced.

“Hurting people used to feel reactive and emotional....Like something I needed in order to prove I belonged in fights like this.”

She shook her head once.

“Not anymore.”

Bella stopped center ring.

“Now? Now it’s deliberate.”

Thunder cracked louder outside this time and Bella barely even noticed.

“You’re walking into a Falls Count Anywhere match with someone who spent months trying to figure out whether violence was consuming her...only for me to realize I’m actually very comfortable here and that is very bad news for you.”

Bella bent slightly, picking up the steel chair and unfolding it slowly in the center of the ring before sitting down in it backward, arms folding across the top.

“You and Bill have always treated matches like opportunities to escape the very consequences that you have both constantly have set upon yourselves, your shortcuts and the distractions, the constant cheap shots and interference...Anything to avoid standing in the middle of a fight honestly.”

A small shrug.

“I don’t have that problem.”

Her eyes locked forward now.

“In fact, Bea, I think King Ryan accidentally gave me exactly what I needed.”

The faintest grin appeared.

“The unlimited space and the room to finally do the one thing that everyone has begged for.... To put your ass down once and for all.”

Rainwater dripped steadily somewhere near the entrance of the barn.

“Bea Barnhart…you know what your problem is? It’s not that you’re evil. It’s not that you cheat. Hell, this business has always had people like you. This place was built on liars, manipulators, opportunists and professional parasites. No, your problem is much simpler than that.”

Bella paced slowly across the ring, eyes locked dead into the camera now.

“You’ve gotten comfortable surviving without EVER evolving.”

A faint scoff left her lips.

“You and Bill have spent YEARS floating through SCW like cockroaches after a nuclear blast. Every era changes, every division grows, new names rise while the old names fade. Meanwhile somehow the Barnharts are always just…there. Attached to whatever irritation you can create long enough to stay relevant another month. And the thing that finally started pissing me off? You’re proud of it.”

Bella leaned forward against the ropes.

“You think being annoying is the same thing as being dangerous. You think being difficult to deal with is the same thing as mattering. BITCH, it’s not, IT NEVER HAS BEEN. It just means people get tired of wasting energy on you. But me? I’m done doing that.”

She pointed toward the camera.

“You are not walking into this Falls Count Anywhere match with the Bella Madison that kept trying to prove she belonged in rooms with champions. That woman already bled herself empty in Osaka trying to become something more. What came back from Japan is a woman that finally realized something very important…That not everybody deserves my patience. And Bea? You ESPECIALLY don’t.”

She started pacing again, slower this time, like the anger was becoming more controlled instead of louder.

“You run your mouth constantly about respect while hiding behind cheap shots and distractions. You cling to Bill like the two of you are somehow this unstoppable force, but honestly? Watching the Barnharts for years has been like watching two people drown while insisting they’re swimming.”

A humorless laugh escaped her.

“You know what I did after Into the Void? I went home and I sat with failure. I did what I usually do and I tore myself apart trying to understand why I keep getting close to the top without taking the final step. I had my conversations with my family, with my friends and with some surprising allies.”

Her eyes narrowed sharply.

“You know what YOU would’ve done after a loss like that? You would’ve blamed the referee, blamed management, blamed the fans and blamed literally anybody except yourself because accountability would probably kill you faster than any weapon I could swing.”

Bella stopped moving completely.

“That’s why this match is dangerous for you.”

Her voice lowered.

“Because Falls Count Anywhere means there are no ropes to save you. There is ZERO structure, no escaping into comedy. No slowing things down so Bill can catch his fat ass up so he can get involved. No pretending this is all just another circus act where Bea Barnhart gets to survive by being slippery twat. You are trapped in a building with a woman who is finally done hesitating and I think you’re too stupid to realize how bad that is for you.”

Bella rubbed her thumb against her taped knuckles.

“You want to know the truth? A couple months ago I probably would’ve walked into this match trying to outwrestle you, trying to prove I was above all the chaos. And insisting that I would try to keep some imaginary moral high ground intact.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“But then I realized something after Kayla beat me. The women who actually become unforgettable in this business? They know exactly when to stop being nice about it. And Bea…I am done being nice about you.”

Silence hung for a moment before Bella continued.

“So when this turns ugly in Bloomington, and it WILL turn ugly, you don’t get to act surprised. You don’t get to cry about violence. You don’t get to pretend you’re some piss poor victim being bullied by the big scary Queen of Hardcore. You wanted a fight with me in a Falls Count Anywhere match? Good. Then you’re finally going to learn the difference between surviving attention…”

Her voice dropped into something colder.

“…and surviving ME. In Bloomington there are no ropes to save you, no count to reset things, no corner to hide in while Bill starts barking at ringside like somebody forgot to leash him.”

Bella leaned forward slightly in the chair.

“And there is absolutely nowhere inside that building where I stop coming and you can hide from the consequences of your actions. You wanted the Queen of Hardcore? You are a fucking liar if you said ‘Yes’, because we all know it will be by the end of this, an immediate no.”

Her expression hardened further.

“You wanted the version of me people used to laugh at, the woman who got emotional, the girl who burned herself out trying to prove she belonged.”

Bella shook her head slowly.

“That woman’s gone and she is never coming back.”

She stood again, leaving the chair sitting alone in the ring behind her.

“What’s left now is someone who finally understands exactly what she’s capable of when she stops hesitating.”

Her voice lowered.

“And Bea? I don’t think you will survive this one because you’re tougher than me. I think you survive it because eventually I decide I’m done and I fucking let you.”

Only Bella standing there beneath the lights with complete calm written across her face.

“And that should scare the hell out of you.”

The barn lights shut off one row at a time and the darkness swallowed the ring slowly. Bella’s final words came from somewhere inside it.

“You mistake your survival for the lack of what you have had coming to you for a long time for legacy. I’ll teach you the difference.”

~*~Where She Stands~*~

O’Connell Home
Just Outside New York
Late Afternoon

The yard wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t supposed to be especially on a day like today where the weather was absolutely perfect.

Laughter carried across the open space in uneven bursts, the kind that didn’t follow rhythm or structure, just pure, unfiltered joy. The kind that only came from a two-and-a-half-year-old who had decided the entire world existed for her entertainment.

“Run! RUN!” Máire shrieked, her tiny legs pumping as fast as they could manage across the grass.

Behind her, Malachi O’Connell gave chase with absolutely no intention of catching her quickly. “Oh, I’m gonna get you!” he called out, voice dramatic, stretched for effect.

“No you not!” she yelled back, looking over her shoulder and immediately veering off course like that was a solid strategy.

It wasn’t, but it didn’t matter.

Bella stood near the edge of the yard, arms folded loosely, leaning back against the fence just enough to take the weight off. She wasn’t in gear. She wasn’t taped up like a war zone waiting to happen.

Leggings, her favorite oversized hoodie that she stole from Mal a while ago, and her long blonde hair pulled back loosely.

It was normal or as close to it as her life ever got. She watched as Mal deliberately tripped over nothing, stumbling forward like he’d been taken out by an invisible force.

Máire gasped like she’d just witnessed something catastrophic. “DADDY DOWN!”

“I’ve been struck!” Mal groaned, collapsing fully onto the grass. “Tell your mother I was brave!”

Bella snorted under her breath, shaking her head. “You are so dramatic,” she called out.

“That’s why you married me!” he shot back immediately, still sprawled out like a fallen warrior.

Máire wasted zero time climbing onto him, clearly the true winner of whatever game this had been.

“I win!” she declared proudly.

“You always do,” Bella muttered, pushing off the fence and walking toward them.

She crouched down, brushing a strand of hair out of Máire’s face, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“You terrorized your father again?” Bella asked.

Máire nodded very seriously. “Yep.”

“Sounds right.”

Mal propped himself up on his elbows, looking between them. “I would like it noted that I put up a heroic fight.”

“You fell over air,” Bella said.

“Strategically.”

She rolled her bright blue eyes, but there was no bite to it. That was the difference now. No tension sitting under her skin. No constant pull toward the barn. No urgency chewing at the edges of everything.

Just...this.

Bella shifted, sitting down in the grass beside them, stretching her legs out in front of her. Máire immediately climbed into her lap like that was always the plan, settling in with zero hesitation.

Bella wrapped an arm around her automatically. It was pure Instinct. It was always that but softer now.

Mal watched her for a second, quieter than before. “You haven’t looked at your phone in like....an hour,” he said.

Bella glanced at him. “Is that a problem?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. “Just...noticing.”

She leaned back slightly, adjusting Máire so she was more comfortable. “I already know what it says,” Bella said simply.

Mal raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Queen For A Day Finals, Triple threat against Frankie and Cassie,” she listed off like it was already settled in her head.

It was.

He studied her a second longer. “And?”

Bella shrugged one shoulder, the motion easy. “And it’s exactly what it’s supposed to be, I was the last one to be qualified after all.”

That answer wasn’t what he expected. “You don’t sound like you’re spiraling about it,” he said.

“I’m not.”

Bella’s fingers absentmindedly traced along Máire’s arm as she spoke, grounding herself without even thinking about it.

“Frankie’s unpredictable as one should be as a former Women’s Champion,” she continued. “She always has been. She’ll take something simple and turn it into chaos if you let her.” A small pause. “And Cassie... well, she’s a lot like me at times where she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t matter what you hit her with, she just keeps coming.”

Mal nodded slowly. “So two problems.”

Bella shook her head slightly. “No,” she said. “Two constants.”

He blinked. “Explain that.”

Bella shifted her weight, leaning back on one hand, eyes drifting out across the yard for a moment before coming back. “Frankie’s always going to be chaos. Cassie’s always going to be relentless,” she said. “That doesn’t change. Neither one of them will change or adapt”

Her gaze sharpened slightly, but it wasn’t intense or aggressive. “The only thing that matters is whether I let that dictate what I do.”

Mal tilted his head, watching her now like he was trying to track something new. “And you’re not going to.”

It wasn’t a question.

Bella’s lips curved just slightly. “No.”

Simple enough especially for Bella.

Máire shifted in her lap, tugging at the sleeve of Bella’s hoodie. “Mama?”

Bella looked down immediately, all focus shifting without hesitation. “Yeah, baby?”

“Up,” Máire said, even though she was already sitting on her.

Bella huffed a quiet laugh. “You are already up.”

“More up.”

Mal snorted. “That’s fair logic.”

Bella stood carefully, lifting Máire fully and settling her against her hip.

“There we go,” she said.

Satisfied, Máire immediately rested her head against Bella’s shoulder like the world was exactly how it should be.

Bella stilled for a second, just a second but it mattered.

Mal saw it. “You’re seemingly different lately,” he said quietly.

Bella glanced at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re not chasing it anymore.”

Bella looked out over the yard again, then back at him. “I don’t have to,” she said, “I know where I’m standing now.”

Mal pushed himself up from the grass, brushing his hands off as he stepped closer. “And where’s that?” he asked.

Bella adjusted her hold on Máire, steady, grounded. “Right where I’m supposed to be.”

Máire lifted her head slightly, looking between them. “Snack?” she asked.

Bella blinked, then laughed softly. “Yeah, snack.”

Mal nodded immediately. “That’s the most important match of the day.”

Bella started toward the house, Máire already pointing inside like she had a full plan mapped out.

Mal fell into step beside them, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“You good?” he asked, quieter now.

Bella didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” she said.

And for once, she meant it without question.


~*~What Still Lives Here~*~

O’Connell Home
Early Evening

The house was quiet in that rare, fragile way that only happened when everything lined up just right.

No cartoons playing, no tiny footsteps running down the hall followed by loud barking and chaos from Luka.

It was weird that there was no immediate chaos demanding attention, just stillness.

Bella moved through it slowly.

Barefoot, with her oversized hoodie and her hair now loose, falling around her shoulders without effort.

The library sat just off the main living space, Mal’s idea originally despite him saying otherwise, built piece by piece until it stopped being a project and became something permanent. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books that had been collected over years, different cities, different versions of them.

Bella trailed her fingers along the spines as she walked. She wasn’t really looking, just...moving. There was something about the quiet that made her restless in a different way. Not the itch to train. Not the pull toward the barn. Just a need to settle her mind.

She paused halfway down the shelf, eyes scanning titles she hadn’t touched in months.

“Alright…” she muttered under her breath. “Something light. Something that doesn’t involve getting hit.”

Her fingers hovered over one book, then another. Before she stopped. Her focus shifted as she turned slightly and looked at the corner shelf.

The one Mal had built a little differently than the others.

It wasn’t for books but for them.

Bella didn’t move at first, she just looked.

Within the shelf there was photos, small framed moments. A couple of old wristbands. Things that didn’t belong anywhere else but mattered too much to be put away.

And then, her eyes dropped lower.

There, sitting back just enough to not be the first thing you noticed. Her crown.

As shiny as ever with it’s dark steel, thorns and the worn edges that caught the light in uneven ways.

The “Queen of Hardcore.”

Bella exhaled slowly. “…yeah,” she murmured.

She stepped closer but didn’t reach for it right away. She just stood there, looking at it like it was something separate from her....and not at the same time, because it wasn’t a gimmick.

It never had been.

That version of her? That was real. The woman who walked into chaos and didn’t flinch. The one who chose violence when it was necessary. The one who didn’t hesitate when things got ugly.

Bella reached out finally, fingers brushing lightly against the metal.

It was cold and grounding. Her grip closed around it, lifting it just slightly off the shelf.

Not fully, and not claiming it. Just holding it.

“You’re still here,” she said quietly.

There was no anger in it and no conflict to be found, just acknowledgment of what she is.

For a moment, her jaw tightened, just enough that the memory of it flickered through. All of the matches and the scars. The nights where she pushed too far because she didn’t know where the line was.

That version of her had been close to slipping. Close to becoming something that didn’t stop.

Bella tilted the crown slightly, watching the way the light hit the edges. “I just don’t need you....the same way anymore.”

That was the difference, not rejection but control.

She set it back down carefully making sure that it wasn’t hidden or discarded. Exactly where it had been, because it still mattered. She rested her hand against the shelf for a second longer, then let it fall.

Behind her, the house stayed quiet. Somewhere upstairs, a faint shift, probably Máire turning in her sleep.

Bella glanced toward the hallway, then back at the shelf one more time.

A small, almost-smile touched her lips. “Frankie brings chaos,” she said, almost to herself.
“Cassie brings pressure.”

A small exhale.

“I don’t have to match either one.” She stepped back from the shelf. “Because I know how to end both.”

That landed heavier than anything louder would have.

Bella turned, finally grabbing a book, any book, from the shelf beside her, like the original plan still mattered just enough. As she walked out of the room, the crown stayed exactly where it was.

And for the first time, It wasn’t leading her.


~*~Chosen Violence: Crown Logic~*~

O’Connell Home – Library
Night

The house had settled into that full quiet. The kind that came after a full day, after laughter, after dinner, after a toddler finally gave in to sleep. Soft light spilled from a single lamp in the library, casting long shadows across the shelves.

Bella stood in front of the same corner, the same shelf, the same crown. This time, she didn’t hesitate.

Her fingers curled around the metal, lifting it fully from its place. The weight of it sat different now, familiar, but not consuming. She turned it slowly in her hands, eyes tracing every edge, every imperfection.

“At Into the Void we will have a Triple threat,” she said quietly. “It’s the finals....Finals to crown the Queen for a Day. But lately, since Victoria took the reigns, it’s turned into something just a tad bit different.”

A faint breath left her as she set the crown down on the table in front of her instead of putting it back.

“Now on the other side of things we have former SCW Women’s World Champion, Frankie Holliday and a young woman that seems very hungry to prove herself, Cassie Wolfe.”

She leaned forward slightly, palms resting on the table on either side of the crown.

“For a long time, this is the kind of match that would’ve gotten away from me,” she admitted. “For me there were too many moving parts, too many variables and too many moments where control just....disappears.”

Her eyes flicked up, focused on nothing and everything at once.

“And I used to think that meant I had to keep up with it.”

A small shake of her head.

“That I had to be faster. Louder. More chaotic than the chaos.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against the table.

“I don’t think that anymore.”

Bella straightened slightly, one hand reaching out to rest against the crown, not gripping it, just touching it.

“Frankie…” she said, the name sitting with a different weight. A faint, knowing exhale. “You thrive when things break down. When structure goes out the window and nobody knows what comes next.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“That’s where you get dangerous. That’s where people lose you, but that only works when the other person is reacting to you.”

Her fingers pressed lightly into the metal.

“I’m not.”

There is a clock tick of silence before she takes a deep breath.

“Cassie.”

Bella’s tone shifted just slightly, not softer and certainly bot harder. Just measured because she wants to be careful with how she puts it all.

“You don’t stop. That’s your thing. You take it, you absorb it, you keep moving forward like it doesn’t matter what hits you.”

A small nod, like she was giving that truth its due.

“Most people break trying to outlast you.”

Her jaw tightened just a fraction.

“I’m not trying to outlast you.”

Bella finally picked the crown up again, turning it in her hands before setting it down just a little closer to her.

“I don’t need to be the most chaotic person in the match,” she continued. “I don’t need to be the one who takes the most punishment.”

Her eyes lifted, sharper now.

“I need to be the one who knows exactly when it ends. For both of you.”

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms now, the crown sitting between her and the empty space across the table like a line drawn.

“Frankie, you’re going to try to turn this into a storm.”

A faint, almost-smirk.

“Cassie, you’re going to try to walk through it.”

Bella shook her head slowly.

“I’m not doing either.”

A step back from the table.

“I’m letting you both do exactly what you do best.”

Her voice lowered.

“And then I’m finishing it. You don’t win triple threats by being the best wrestler in the ring. You win them by being the last one who makes a decision that matters.”

Her gaze dropped briefly to the crown again.

“You don’t need to wear this to understand what it represents.”

Her fingers brushed it one last time.

“But you do need to understand what it costs.”

Bella straightened fully, stepping away from the table now.

“Frankie,” she said, voice calm but edged. “You don’t get to lose yourself in chaos this time.”

A step toward the door.

“Cassie...you don’t get to survive your way through this one either.”

She stopped just short of leaving the room.

“And me? I’m not chasing anything.”

She turned her head just enough for her voice to carry back into the room.

“I’m ending it.”

Bella stepped out, leaving the crown behind on the table, not hidden, not worn, fully present in the moment and waiting.

Because now...

She didn’t need it to lead her.

~*~Wise Old Words~*~
Three Weeks Ago
New York City
Late Morning

The city didn’t slow down for anyone.

Not for traffic, not for weather, and certainly not for the kind of uncertainty that had been following Bella Madison like a shadow for weeks now. But for once, she wasn’t trying to keep up with it.

She stood on the sidewalk just off Park Avenue, one hand wrapped securely around Máire’s tiny one, the other adjusting the strap of the small bag slung across her shoulder. Máire bounced lightly on her feet beside her, bundled in a puffy little coat that made her look twice her size, her knit hat slipping just slightly to one side.

“Up,” Máire demanded, already reaching.

Bella smiled despite herself, bending down with a soft grunt as she scooped her daughter up against her hip. The movement still pulled faintly through her ribs, not pain anymore, just memory. A reminder of what she’d put herself through.

“Someone’s feeling dramatic today,” Bella murmured, brushing a kiss against Máire’s temple.

“Up,” Máire repeated proudly, as if she had personally invented the word.

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

Bella shifted her weight and glanced up toward the building in front of them. It was tall, clean and expensive in that quiet, old-money way that didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. Jeffery O’Neil’s building.

For a second, Bella just stood there. Not because she didn’t want to go in.

Because this... this felt different. Just her and somehow, that felt heavier than anything she’d dealt with in a ring.

Máire squirmed slightly in her arms, tugging at a loose strand of Bella’s hair, "Go,” she said, as if she could sense the hesitation.

Bella huffed out a small laugh, "Bossy already. You get that from your father.”

Máire beamed like it was a compliment. Bella adjusted her grip, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside. The lobby was exactly what she remembered.

Marble floors polished to a shine, soft lighting, the kind of quiet that came from people who didn’t need to raise their voices to be heard. The doorman greeted her with a polite nod, already recognizing her before she even reached the elevator. He was a kind man with kind eyes that would occasionally have candy for the kids that would come through the door.

“Hey there Bella, Ms. [size=105]Máire[/size], I heard that Mr. O’Neil is expecting you.”

“Of course he is,” Bella replied, a small smile tugging at her lips, "Thanks Marcus.”

The elevator ride was short, but it gave her just enough time to feel it creeping back in. That question, the one she’d been avoiding.

What now?

She shifted Máire slightly, pressing her closer as the doors opened. Jeffery O’Neil’s apartment felt less like a place and more like a presence. Warm wood, framed photos lining the walls, especially a beautiful one that he had specially painted of his wife, Wanda. Bella’s grandmother who had passed away from cancer some time ago. Bella stopped and said a quiet ‘hello to it’ as she glanced at it. Maybe some day she’d tell [size=105]Máire about her, but for now, she would stand among a[/size] lifetime of decisions and victories and mistakes quietly displayed in still images that didn’t need explanation.

And right in the middle of it all....

“Bella.”

His voice carried before she even fully stepped inside. Her grandfather stood near the sitting area, dressed casually but still put together in that effortless way that came from decades of knowing exactly who you were. His hair had gone more silver than she remembered, but his posture hadn’t changed. It was always straight, grounded and practically unshakable.

But the second his eyes landed on her, that melted away, "There’s my girl.”

Bella didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that until it hit her. Her shoulders dropped just slightly as she crossed the room.

“Hi, Grandpa.”

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug that was firm without being overwhelming, careful without being fragile. The kind of hug that didn’t ask questions but somehow answered them anyway. Then he pulled back just enough to look at her properly.

“Still standing,” he said.

Bella smirked faintly, "Last I checked.”

“Good,” he replied simply. Then his attention shifted to the little girl in Bella’s arms, and the stern executive steadiness left his face altogether.

“Well now,” Jeffery said, voice softening as he reached up to straighten Máire’s hat with careful fingers, "And there’s my favorite little visitor.”

Máire blinked at him for half a second, as if deciding whether or not he was worthy of her approval. Then she leaned forward and patted his cheek.

Jeffery laughed, surprised and delighted in equal measure, "Ah. Yes. I’ve been inspected.”

Bella let out a quiet laugh, the first one that felt unforced all morning, "That means you passed.”

“I should hope so.” He looked back at Máire with absolute seriousness, "I wore a respectable sweater and everything.”

Máire stared at him, then planted both of her little hands on Bella’s shoulders and announced, “Down.”

Jeffery raised an eyebrow, "I see I’ve already been dismissed.”

“No, that means she wants to explore,” Bella said, lowering her daughter carefully to the floor, "You’re about to lose control of your apartment.”

“Well if there is one thing I learned from your mother, control is overrated.”

Máire hit the floor like she had been waiting for release, toddling away with the determined confidence of someone who had never once doubted the world would make room for her. Jeffery watched her go with open amusement, his hands settling on his hips as she made a beeline toward the sitting area rug.

“She walks faster every time I see her.”

“She runs now too,” Bella said, "Usually in the direction of anything breakable or to whatever the dog was.”

Jeffery gave a grave nod, "Excellent. Strong instincts.”

Bella smiled again, but it faded quicker this time and he noticed. Of course he noticed, he always had.

He stepped aside and motioned deeper into the apartment, "Come on. Sit. I had tea brought in for you, and I am told there is also coffee if the tea offends your generation somehow.”

Bella snorted softly, "I can still do tea, Grandpa.”

“Reassuring.”

He led her into the sitting room, where the late-morning light spilled in through massive windows, painting soft gold across the wood floor and the edges of the furniture. Central Park was visible in the distance between buildings, winter-bare trees etched against a gray sky. The whole room held that same quiet confidence as the lobby downstairs, nothing loud, nothing gaudy, just taste built over years rather than bought in a rush.

Máire had already found a basket of children’s books that absolutely had not been there by accident. Bella noticed it immediately and looked at him as he pretended not to.

“You put those there.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“There’s also a stuffed rabbit on the chair.”

“I’m shocked. A mystery.”

Bella laughed under her breath as she lowered herself onto the sofa, "You spoil her way too much.”

Jeffery remained standing for a moment, watching Máire flip open a board book upside down like she was reading state secrets. When he finally looked back at Bella, his expression gentled.

“I’m allowed,” he said, "I earned it and I’m still feeling like I’m making up for missed time.”

That landed somewhere tender in Bella’s chest.

He sat in the chair across from her, not directly opposite, but at an angle that made the conversation feel less like an interview and more like an invitation. A tray waited on the low table between them, tea, coffee, small pastries, fruit cut neatly into pieces that looked almost too careful to eat.

Jeffery poured her tea himself, Bella noticed that too, “You don’t have staff for this?”

“I do.”

“But?”

“But I wanted to pour my granddaughter a cup of tea.” He handed it to her. Bella took it with both hands, the warmth settling into her fingers.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet wasn’t awkward. It never had been with him. It just gave the truth somewhere to arrive. Jeffery leaned back slightly, studying her over the rim of his own cup, "You look tired.”

Bella let out a breath through her nose, "That subtle, huh?”

“I did not say exhausted.”

“But you implied it.”

“I implied many things, my dear.” He took a sip, "You also look better than I expected.”

That made her glance up. He held her gaze evenly.

“I watched,” he said.

Bella’s mouth tightened just a little, "I figured.”

“I imagine you did.”

There was no judgment in his voice. That somehow made it harder. She looked down into her tea, watching the faint movement on the surface, "It was ugly.”

“It was costly.”

Bella gave a quiet, humorless laugh, "That’s one word for it.”

Jeffery didn’t rush to fill the silence after that. He let it stretch, let her sit with it instead of rescuing her from it. It was one of the things she’d always respected about him. He never shoved comfort at people just so he could feel useful. When he finally spoke again, his tone was calm, "Do you miss it already?”

Bella looked up, caught off guard by the bluntness of it, "The ring?” she asked.

Jeffery lifted one shoulder, "The fight. The noise. The version of you that walks through fire because everyone expects her to.”

Bella leaned back slowly, tea still cradled in her hands. Her eyes drifted toward Máire, who was now sitting on the rug happily turning pages and babbling to herself, "I don’t know,” Bella admitted.

Jeffery nodded once, as if that answer pleased him more than certainty would have, "That,” he said, “is at least an honest place to begin.”

Bella let her head tip back against the sofa cushion and stared at the ceiling for a second, "Everybody keeps acting like I’m supposed to know.”

“Know what?”

“What comes next?” She looked at him again, "Am I going back? Am I not? Am I taking time? Am I done? Am I just pretending I’m taking time until I get restless enough to throw myself back into it because I don’t know how to be anything else?”

Her voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened on the edges anyway. Jeffery remained still and Bella swallowed her words for a moment before she continued on.

“I’ve had more time than I’m used to,” she went on more quietly, "Time to heal. Time to be home. Time to be with her.” Her eyes flicked to Máire again, "And I love that. God, I love that more than I even know how to say. But then there’s this other part of me that keeps...pacing.”

Jeffery’s brow lifted slightly, "Pacing.”

“Yeah.” Bella gave a small shrug, "Like something in me doesn’t know what to do when it isn’t bracing for the next hit.”

There it was. The thing she hadn’t quite managed to say out loud before.

Jeffery set his cup down, "When your whole life has been built around surviving impact,” he said, “Stillness can feel suspicious.”

Bella’s eyes snapped back to his. For just a second, she forgot to breathe because that was it. That was exactly it.

She looked away first, a tiny shake of her head following like she was irritated he’d been able to name it so easily, "I hate when you do that.”

Jeffery’s mouth twitched, "Do what?”

“That thing where you make one sentence sound like I should’ve had it figured out myself.”

“My apologies. I’ll try to become less insightful in my old age.”

Bella laughed despite herself, and this time it lasted a little longer. Across the room, Máire looked up at the sound of it, smiled because her mother was smiling, then went right back to aggressively chewing on the corner of a cloth book.

Bella sighed, "That’s probably expensive.”

Jeffery turned his head to look, "Then it’s fortunate I can replace it.”

She shook her head, amused.

Then the amusement passed, and the honesty came back.

“She needs me,” Bella said quietly.

Jeffery looked at her, "Yes.”

Bella’s fingers tightened around the cup, "Not the version of me that comes home half-broken and tries to pretend that’s normal. Not the version that can’t get comfortable in her own body for a week because everything hurts. Not the version that acts like bleeding is proof of something.”

Jeffery’s expression didn’t harden, but it did settle into something more serious, "And what version of you do you think she needs?”

Bella blinked. The answer should have been simple but it wasn’t.

Jeffery waited as he watched as Bella looked down at her hands. At the faint scars. At the strength in them. At the wear. She was very much like her mother in more ways than just half the DNA

“I don’t know,” she admitted, "I know I want to say she needs me whole. But that sounds nice in theory. I don’t know if I’ve ever really been like that.”

Jeffery was quiet for a long moment after that. Then he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his voice lowering just enough that it felt like something meant only for her, "Bella. Look at me.”

She did.

“You do not owe anyone your damage as proof of your passion.”

The words hit hard enough that her throat tightened. Jeffery held her gaze.

“You do not owe an audience your body in pieces just because they once applauded you for enduring it. And you do not have to keep proving that you can survive difficult things merely because survival became one of your talents.”

Bella stared at him. There was no dramatics in his delivery. No grand speechmaking. Just truth, laid out cleanly between them.

She swallowed hard and looked away toward the window before she could stop herself. Outside, the city kept moving; yellow cabs below, tiny figures crossing the sidewalks. Life, indifferent and constant.

Inside, everything had gone very still.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she said after a moment, and even to her own ears it sounded less like defiance and more like exhaustion.

Jeffery accepted that without offense, "No,” he said gently, "It’s easier for me to say now.”

Bella turned back. He sat back in his chair, but his eyes had gone distant in that way they sometimes did when memory had entered the room.

“When I was younger,” he said, “I confused usefulness with worth. A lot of men of my generation did. If we were producing, deciding, winning, building, then we knew who we were. The second things slowed down, we felt threatened by the quiet because quiet left room for questions.”

He glanced toward the wall of framed photographs.

“I built a life out of decisions,” he continued, "Some good. Some extremely selfish. Some brilliant. Some expensive in ways money does not cover. And for a very long time, I thought momentum was the same thing as purpose and status was the proof of power. I hurt your mother with that one and lost a lot of time with you because of that.”

Bella listened without interrupting.

Jeffery looked back at her, "It isn’t.”

A small frown touched her mouth, "So what is?”

“That,” he said, “changes.”

She frowned more deeply, "That’s annoyingly vague.”

“Yes,” Jeffery agreed, "Because simple answers are usually lies.” Bella huffed a laugh and he continued, “At one point, the purpose was building something big enough that your mother, her brother and her sisters would never have to worry about the things I worried about. At another, it was learning how not to confuse control with love. Later, it became understanding that being needed and being cherished are not the same thing.”

Bella lowered her tea to the table, giving him her full attention now. Jeffery’s eyes flicked to Máire, and his whole expression softened.

“And these days,” he said quietly, “Purpose can look an awful lot like sitting on the floor and allowing a great-granddaughter to hand me blocks for twenty minutes while the rest of the world insists there are more important things to do.”

Bella followed his gaze. Máire had abandoned the books entirely and was now trying to stack two soft cubes on top of one another with ferocious concentration. Bella’s chest ached, not painfully, just deeply.

“She’s good at making everything else feel stupid,” Bella murmured.

“The best children are.” They sat in that for a beat. Then Jeffery looked back at her, and his tone shifted just enough to tell her they were circling the heart of it now, "Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

Bella exhaled slowly. There were so many versions of that answer she could have given him. The polished one, the tough one, the easy one. None of them felt right here. So she went with the ugly truth.

“That if I stop,” she said, “people will forget.” Jeffery didn’t react immediately. Bella stared ahead as she kept going, words quieter now, stripped of everything but honesty, "That if I take too long, I’ll disappear. That everything I fought through, everything I built, every time I dragged myself back up and made people pay attention,” She stopped, jaw tightening, "What if it’s all shorter-lived than I want it to be?”

Jeffery folded his hands loosely, "And if they do forget?”

Bella looked at him sharply, "That’s not helpful.”

“It’s necessary.” Her eyes flashed, but not out of anger, out of vulnerability. Out of being forced to stand too close to something she did not want to examine. Jeffery didn’t soften the question, "And if they do?” he repeated.

Bella was quiet. Finally she said, “Then what was the point?”

Jeffery’s answer came without hesitation, "The point was never to be remembered by strangers forever.”

She sat very still.

“The point,” he said, “Was that you did it. That you became who you are by doing it. That you loved it when you loved it. That you endured it when it demanded endurance. That it gave you pieces of yourself you would never have found elsewhere. That is not erased if applause fades.”

Bella’s eyes burned.

Damn him. Damn him for being right in that calm, infuriating way of his.

He went on, quieter now, "You have spent enough of your life making yourself legible through performance. I am asking whether you know how to value yourself when no one is looking.”

The room went silent except for the soft little babble Máire kept up on the rug.

Bella blinked hard once, then again. She laughed a little under her breath, but it came out shaky, "You really know how to ruin a perfectly good tea, you know that?”

Jeffery smiled faintly, "A family gift.”

Bella reached up and rubbed at one eye, annoyed at herself more than anything, "I don’t want to be done.”

“There’s a difference,” Jeffery said, “Between not wanting to be done and not being ready to decide.” She looked at him. He held her gaze, steady as ever, "You are allowed not to know yet.”

That hit even harder than the rest. Because everyone else seemed so desperate for clarity. For the headline. For the neat answer:

Coming back.
Stepping away.
Retired.
Rebuilt.
One final run.

Everything always had to be named before it was even fully understood.

Bella let out a long breath, "I’m not good at uncertainty.”

“No,” Jeffery said dryly, "You’re very bad at it.”

That pulled a real smile out of her. He gave one in return. Then, in a gentler voice, he added, “But uncertainty is not weakness, Bella. Sometimes it is simply the cost of taking your own life seriously enough not to lie about what you need.”

Bella sat with that. Across the room, Máire pushed herself to her feet with all the grace of a tipsy sailor and toddled toward them holding one of the soft blocks in both hands like an offering.

“Bop,” she declared.

Jeffery immediately leaned forward to accept it with appropriate reverence, "For me? I’m honored.”

“Bop,” Máire repeated, then turned and shoved another one at Bella.

Bella took hers too, "Wow. We’ve both been chosen.”

Jeffery nodded solemnly, "A rare distinction.”

Máire then climbed, with zero warning and complete authority, into Bella’s lap.

Bella made a soft sound as she settled her daughter against her chest, one arm wrapping around her automatically. Máire leaned back into her like it was the most natural place in the world to be. Because for her, it was. Jeffery watched them for a long moment, something tender and thoughtful moving behind his eyes.

“She looks very content there,” he said.

Bella looked down at her daughter’s rosy cheeks, the sleepy blink beginning behind her lashes, the tiny fist still loosely clutching the corner of Bella’s sweater, "Yeah,” Bella whispered, "She does.”

Jeffery was quiet for another beat, then asked, “And do you?”

Bella looked up. The question settled over her differently than the others had. Not as a challenge. Just a real question.

Did she? Here. At this moment, in the stillness she’d been mistrusting.

Did she?

Bella looked back down at Máire, then out toward the city, then finally at the man who had known her long enough to ask the question underneath all the others.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe longer than that, she didn’t try to answer from the part of herself that was always preparing for the next war. She answered from the quiet.

“Yes,” she said softly.

Jeffery smiled. It wasn’t triumphant or even relieved. Just warm and certain, "As I thought.”

Bella shook her head a little, "Sometimes you are unbearably smug for a man your age.”

“I’ve earned that too.”

She laughed again, and this time it came easier.

Máire, sensing laughter and safety and the possibility of attention, reached a hand up and patted Bella squarely in the face. Bella caught the tiny wrist and kissed the little palm, "Assaulting your mother in front of witnesses, huh?”

Jeffery lifted his tea, "I saw nothing.”

“Traitor.”

“Realist.”

Bella settled deeper into the sofa, her daughter warm in her lap, the city stretching beyond the windows, the ache in her ribs still there but quieter now. Not gone. Not resolved. But quieter.

And for the first time since she had stepped away long enough to hear her own thoughts, the question ‘what now?’ didn’t feel like a threat.

It felt like something she might be allowed to answer slowly.


~*~Chosen Violence: Initiation~*~
San Diego
Present Day
Early Evening

The camera didn’t turn on right away. For a few seconds, it just sat there, angled slightly wrong on the kitchen counter, catching the edge of a cutting board, a half-filled bottle, and the soft blur of movement in the background. A small hand smacked against the lens.

“Hey, hey, no, that’s not yours...”

Bella’s voice came from just off-screen, followed by a soft laugh as she stepped into frame, gently rescuing the phone from Máire’s determined grip.

“There we go,” she murmured, brushing a kiss against the top of her daughter’s head before setting her down on the floor.

Máire protested immediately, "Up.”

“You were just up,” Bella replied, crouching slightly to fix the little girl’s shirt, "You can survive thirty seconds without me, I promise.”

“Up.”

Bella smirked, "Persistent. I respect it.”

She stood, adjusted the phone, and finally settled it into place. The angle corrected, now centered on her, with the warm, lived-in space of the kitchen behind her. Soft light spilled in from the windows, catching the edges of everything in gold.

In the background, Máire wandered just into frame, dragging a small stuffed toy by one arm like it had committed a crime. Bella glanced down, making sure she was safe, then looked back at the camera.

For a second, she didn’t speak. That same quiet from weeks ago lingered there. Not heavy this time. Then she exhaled softly and leaned her hips back against the counter, arms folding loosely across her chest.

“There’s a moment...” she began, "...Right before you step through that curtain. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done it. It doesn’t matter how many scars you’ve collected, how many matches you’ve survived, how many times they’ve said your name like it meant something. That moment? It’s quiet. WAY too quiet.

And for a long time... I didn’t trust that quiet. I thought it meant I was losing something. Losing the edge and losing the part of me that made me this. But here’s the truth I had to sit with, I wasn’t losing anything. I was finally hearing myself without the noise. And now? Now I get to choose when I step back into it.”

Máire waddled back into frame, stopping just at Bella’s leg, one hand gripping the fabric of her pants like an anchor. Bella didn’t break as her hand dropped instinctively, fingers brushing through her daughter’s hair as she continued.

“Five weeks ago, I didn’t have an answer. Hell, three weeks I didn’t...Not a clean one, anyway. People wanted headlines. Is she back? Is she done? Is she broken? Is she rebuilding? Is she pregnant? I didn’t give them one. Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t making a decision for them. I was making it for myself.”

She shifted slightly, lifting Máire up onto her hip without even thinking about it. The movement was smooth, practiced. Máire immediately tucked in against her, satisfied. Bella adjusted her hold, eyes never leaving the camera.

“And now here we are. Bella Madison back....Not because I have something to prove. Not because I need to remind the world who I am, but because I want to. That’s the difference and if you don’t understand that difference? You’re going to, real quick.”

She tilted her head slightly, something sharper settling into her expression now.

“Brittany Williams, it’s your debut, your moment and your opportunity to walk into SCW and make your name mean something the second that bell rings. And I get it, I really do. Because every single one of us had that night. That one chance where you look across the ring and think, ‘If I can just take her down...everything changes.’”

Máire reached up and grabbed a loose strand of Bella’s hair, immediately trying to shove it into her mouth. Bella caught her wrist mid-attempt without even glancing down.

“Not that,” she muttered softly, then returned her full attention forward like nothing happened, "You’re hungry, I’m sure you’re confident. You’ve got that name behind you, that arrogance wrapped around you like armor, and your brother lurking at ringside like he’s the insurance policy. Like he’s the thing that tips the scales in your favor.”

Bella’s jaw shifted slightly.

“Let me make something very clear. I have built my entire career in situations where the scales were never in my favor. I’ve walked into matches where the rules didn’t protect me. Where the odds didn’t favor me. Where the only thing I had was the willingness to go further than the person standing across from me. So if you think a “wildcard” at ringside is going to rattle me? You don’t know who you’re standing across from.”

She adjusted Máire slightly higher on her hip, her grip protective but effortless.

“But here’s the part you really need to hear, because this isn’t about tearing you down. This is about reality. You’re stepping into the ring with someone who already knows exactly who she is without it. And that? That’s dangerous in a way you’re not ready for yet.”

The room felt quieter now, even with Máire there. Even with the soft background noise of life, everything centered on her.

“See, the version of me that used to walk into that ring, she needed it. She needed the fight, the noise and the damage to prove something. This version? She doesn’t need any of it. OH I am STILL the Queen of Hardcore. But this means everything I do in that ring now, is a choice. And I am choosing to walk straight through you.”

Máire shifted, resting her head against Bella’s shoulder. Bella’s hand came up, rubbing slow circles along her back. Her voice didn’t soften.

“Not because I have to. Not because I’m trying to make an example out of you. But because this is what happens when you step into the deep end before you know how to swim. You don’t get eased into it. You don’t get protected. You learn or you sink.”

She leaned forward slightly now, just enough to close the distance with the camera.

“So Brittany, bring the attitude, bring the name. And by all means bring your brother. Bring all of it, because when that bell rings? None of that is going to save you from the reality of standing across from me. I’m not coming back to prove I’m still the Queen of Hardcore. I never stopped being her, I’m coming back because now, I get to decide what that actually means.

And you? You just happen to be the first one standing in front of that decision.”

Bella reached forward, pausing the recording, but not before Máire suddenly perked up, leaned toward the camera, and declared proudly:

“Bye!”

Bella blinked once, then laughed under her breath and the video cut to black.

~*~Five Years, Finally~*~
New York City
January Night

New York had thawed just enough to make the night crisp rather than brutal, the kind of cold that bit lightly at exposed skin but didn’t punish you for stepping outside. Steam curled from subway grates, headlights reflected in rain-damp pavement, and the whole city hummed with that particular after-holiday glow, quieter than December, brighter than February, suspended between seasons.

Bella and Malachi walked arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, dressed up for the first time in what felt like forever. No sticky toddler fingers on their clothes, no toy wolf peeking out of a diaper bag, no sippy cups or emergency snack packs. Just them, finally.

Mal’s cold had broken earlier that week, leaving him pale but alive, and absolutely determined to reclaim their anniversary night.

“You sure you feel up for this?” Bella asked, bumping her shoulder into his.

Mal looked down at her with a smirk that barely hid the lingering congestion, "Woman, I have waited five years for a date where I wasn’t either recovering from a match or chasing a toddler. I would crawl through the city on my knees for this.”

She laughed, leaning into him, "That’s so romantic.”

“Honest,” he corrected.

They turned the corner toward the restaurant, it wasn’t flashy, not exclusive, but warm and candle-lit, one of those tucked-away Manhattan places that looked like it belonged in an old movie. One that reminded them both of the place where they had their first date in Paris but it wasn’t crowded or loud on this night. Mal opened the door for her, and the host led them to a booth by the window, the city stretching out behind Bella in neon streaks and reflections.

When the wine arrived, red for her, whiskey for him, they clinked glasses.

“Five years,” Bella said softly.

“Five years,” Mal echoed, eyes steady on hers.

Dinner came in courses, slow and rich, letting them breathe. Letting them talk. Letting them remember they were not just parents and wrestlers and partners in chaos, they were them.

When dessert arrived, something chocolate and decadent that Bella insisted she didn’t want and then ate half of, Mal leaned back, studying her with a softer expression.

“You seem lighter,” he said finally.

“I feel lighter,” Bella admitted, "Between Christmas, beating Alicia, starting to really figure myself out... it feels like everything’s finally clicking.”

Mal nodded slowly, absorbing that, thumb tracing the rim of his glass.

There was a quiet moment, not awkward, not tense, just full. Then he asked, gently, “So... you still thinking about the whole second kid thing?”

Bella didn’t freeze, but her breath did catch, just a fraction.

He noticed, of course he did.

“Hey,” he said immediately, reaching across the table, covering her hand with his, "I’m not pushing. I just...it came up before, and we never really finished talking about it.”

Bella exhaled, settling her head slightly to the side as she gathered her words.

“I think about it,” she admitted, "I really do. I love being a mom. I love her.” A small laugh escaped her, "I love us. The little disaster family we’ve built.”

Mal smiled quietly.

“But,” she added, voice lower now, steadier, “Last year I came so close to a lot of goals. I had a World Title shot practically in my hands and with everything going on now...with Kayla at my doorstep, Inception, this whole moment I’m finally stepping into. I can’t help feeling like, if I step away now...even for the best possible reason... I’ll lose that momentum.”

His thumb brushed her knuckles.

“And that scares you,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bella breathed, "It does. Because I don’t want to have to choose between being a mom and being great at what I do. I don’t want Máire to grow up thinking her mom gave up her dreams because she had her and then her little brother or sister. I want her to see that I fought for this. For myself.”

Another breath.

“And...I want another kid someday. I really do. But right now? Right now I want this. I want to break the glass ceilings that I know I’ve been slamming in to. I want that spot that’s always just out of reach. I want Kayla. I want the title. I want the world to finally shut the fuck up about ‘potential’ because I’m done being potential.”

Mal was quiet, listening the way only he knew how, fully, completely, without interruption. Then he squeezed her hand.

“Bella,” he said, “I don’t want another kid if it costs you any of what you’re building right now. We’re not on a clock. We don’t owe anyone a timeline and Máire isn’t going to wonder why you’re working, she’s going to grow up bragging about you.”

Bella’s eyes softened, "You think so?”

“I know so,” he said, "She already thinks you hung the moon just by breathing near her. Imagine what she’ll think when she sees you standing on top of everything you’ve been fighting for.”

Bella leaned forward, resting her forehead briefly against their joined hands.

“I love you,” she murmured.

Mal grinned, "Well according to many I’m very lovable.”

She snorted, "You’re impossible.”

“You married me.”

“Questionable decision.”

“Five years says otherwise.”

They sat there, the city glowing around them, the weight of expectation lifting off Bella’s shoulders one quiet heartbeat at a time.

They stepped out into the crisp Manhattan air, their breaths rising in twin clouds as they moved down the sidewalk. Bella slipped her hand into Mal’s coat pocket, fingers tangling with his as they walked.

“You ready for Vegas?” he asked, voice easy, but his eyes searching hers the way he always did.

Bella looked ahead, toward the subway entrance glowing beneath the streetlamps, "More than ever,” she said, "I’m done waiting. I’m done being the almost-story. Kayla’s gonna learn that real quick.”

Mal smirked, "Then let’s get you to...”

Bella’s phone buzzed.

She didn’t think much of it, probably Laura sending pictures of Máire refusing bedtime, but something in the vibration made her pause. Too long. Too insistent.

She pulled it out. The headline hit like a gut punch.

“Breaking: Carter ‘Helluva Bottom’ McKinney Attacked in Las Vegas.”

Bella stopped dead on the sidewalk.

“Oh my god...” she whispered.

Mal immediately turned toward her, "What? What is it?”

She angled the phone so he could see. His face changed instantly, confusion first, then recognition, then something dark and sharp beneath it.

“No...” he muttered, "No fucking way.”

The live report kept updating below the headline, paramedics, statements pending, no official word on condition yet. Bella felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

She swallowed hard.

“Mal... we need to get out to Vegas. Now. Like... much sooner than planned.”

He didn’t hesitate. Not even a breath.

“Yeah,” he said, already reaching for his own phone, "We’re going. We’re going tonight if we have to.”

Bella exhaled shakily, the adrenaline hitting cold and fast. This wasn’t about Kayla, it wasn’t about Inception. This was the family she had built around them beyond blood. She tried to dial Miles but it went straight to voice mail, LJ and the same thing...she kicked herself for forgetting to load Ally’s number in before she got her new phone.

She gripped Mal’s arm tight, steadying herself.

“Let’s go get our girl from Mom,” she said, voice low, "And start packing.”

Mal nodded once, jaw tight but focused, "I’m right behind you.”

They turned on their heels and hurried toward the subway, the warm glow of their anniversary night already fading behind them, replaced by urgency, worry, and the fierce instinct that came with protecting the people they loved.

Bella didn’t look back.

Las Vegas was waiting.

And now they had to run toward it.


~*~GRAVEYARD OF GIANTS~*~
Las Vegas Neon Museum
Dusk

Twilight hit Las Vegas like a bruise blooming across the sky. That strange hour where the sun was technically gone, but the city hadn’t fully claimed the darkness yet. The air was cool but not cold, the kind of temperature that whispered lies about winter in the desert. The Neon Graveyard stretched before her, a boneyard of discarded legends, rusting metal, chipped paint, the hollowed-out ghosts of casinos that thought they’d be eternal.

They hadn’t been.

And that was precisely why Bella Madison came here.

She slipped through the narrow walkway between two massive broken letters, boots scraping the gravel, leather jacket shifting with each step. No ring gear for this, no costume, no theatrics. Just black denim jeans, scuffed boots, and a treasured leather coat and the expression of someone who’d stopped bluffing with herself a long time ago.

The old Stardust sign cast a soft, dying shimmer over her face, half-blue, half-gold, like she was caught between the person she used to be and the one she was fully stepping into now. She exhaled once, a slow breath that hung in the air.

“Kayla Richards.”

Her voice didn’t need volume; the graveyard carried it for her.

“You made this so fucking personal.”

Bella walked forward again, passing an arch of bent neon tubes and a collapsed sign shaped like a starburst. Her fingers dragged along the rusted metal, the texture scraping across her bandaged knuckles.

“You had a lot to say. A lot about me, about OUR division...there were some jabs about my mother. Hell you even managed to say a lot about Mal, in your own way. Of course about my family legacy. Of course you also had a lot to say about this company. You went to talk about everything except the one thing that matters.”

She turned, stepping backward now, staring down the camera like she’d finally chosen the perfect place to deliver a eulogy.

“You didn’t say a damn thing about my fight.”

A wry smile tugged at her lip.

“And that’s how I know you’re slipping.”

The soft desert wind cut through the graveyard, spinning dust at her heels.

“See, Kayla... you talk about dominance and about credibility. It’s always gotta be about the glory days you think you built with your bare hands. I mean, there is no denying that you dominated for a long time. You talk about Frankie blowing it, Amelia rising, Crystal embarrassing herself...which that was beautiful low hanging fruit that you know damn well I will agree with, there were something in there about tag team championship matches, mediocrity this, failure that...”

Her head tilted slowly.

“But you didn’t say a word about me, I mean not really.”

She stepped beneath a half-lit “Lady Luck” sign, the giant smiling woman missing half her face.

“I mean sure...you called me pampered. Brought up my whole ‘Second-generation’ which I am. I was a constant underdog who drags her ass into matches with people better than her. Cute little Cinderella story...Sweet little almost-there Bella.”

She rolled her shoulders back, the leather creaking.

“And you know what? I’m not even mad.”

Her eyes hardened.

“I’m disappointed.”

Bella knelt beside a fallen neon S, once a towering landmark, now toppled, forgotten.

“Because if this is the Kayla Richards the world warned me about?” she said softly, “Then they oversold you.”

She rose again, slow, deliberate, like a blade being drawn.

“You say this division fell apart when you stepped back. But Kayla, that’s not the truth, is it?” Her voice sharpened, "The truth is... you stepped back because for the first time in your entire career, the division didn’t revolve around you.”

She nodded, once, the statement landing like a verdict.

“You talk about mercy. Giving Frankie rope and letting her breathe and I guess letting the division breathe.” Bella took two steps forward, boots crunching against gravel, "Babe... nobody asked you to be the mother of this division. Nobody asked you to be its savior.”

She stopped directly under a defunct “QUEEN OF HEARTS” sign, her face lit crimson and violet.

“And now you’re angry because the kingdom didn’t freeze without you.”

Bella’s jaw flexed.

“I almost pity you...almost.”

Almost.

“Because for all your legendary violence, for all your dominance... for all your fearlessness... you have never, not once, known what it is to do what I’ve done.”

She pointed behind her to the graveyard of fallen giants.

“You’ve never walked through the ruins knowing you’re the one who belongs to the future, not the past.”

Her lips curled, the start of a dangerous smile.

“I’m still trying to figure out why you called me pampered. I mean, it’s what happens when you have a loving family that doesn’t attempt to step on your neck to keep you from following your dreams. But saying I rely on legacy? Saying that my parents die a little inside each time I struggle? Apparently you have never really met my mother or my dad to even say that...”

Bella stepped closer, shadows slicing across her face.

“Let’s talk about legacy then.”

Her voice dropped, low and razor-sharp.

“My mother never needed handouts. In fact the one time she actually accepted one and then started to go against the status quo, she was almost burned alive for it. My father never begged for respect, he took it out of every single person that he ever faced. They both fought and bled and they built something from nothing. And they never once acted like the division owed them anything when business changed.”

She inhaled.

“But you? You’re grieving a throne no one stole from you, you walked away from it. It didn’t matter that Frankie had a better night than you, you took your ball and instead of keeping yourself in the spotlight, you decided to pull back. And that’s ok, when you have to carry something for long, I get the need for a vacation but sweets...you did that to yourself. I would have loved on any given moment to stand by you and taken this whole damn place over. All you would have had to do was ask. BUT that’s not how Kayla Richards functions, that is not her mode of operation...Kayla always has to do shit her way.”

The lights flickered behind her, old circuits groaning back to life.

“I did like one thing you said. You told me to call my mother and ask her to explain the magnitude of this match to me. Trust me, I don’t need to. My mother doesn’t need to walk me through this like I’m stupid, Kayla. But I get why you said it, you’ve mistaken my patience for ignorance for years.”

Bella stepped into the glow of a broken neon heart.

“I understand it better than you do. I understood that everything that they needed to do, it was against the status quo to make them truly stand out. They brought the best of the best without backing down from the bullies that attempted to keep them down.”

Her voice sharpened, every syllable a cut.

“You’re not fighting me to teach me something. You’re fighting me because you see something....”

The breeze stirred her hair.

“You’re fighting me because I’m exactly what you used to be: hungry, violent, unafraid, and one win away from becoming the most dangerous woman in this company.”

She took a deep breath, steady and resolved.

“And you know damn well I can beat you. ANYONE can beat anyone on any given day...there isn’t a fucking soul that is untouchable anywhere, I don’t give a shit who you are or what your resume looks like, you are beatable.”

She touched the crown of thorns at her hip, it wasn’t seen until just now, not wearing it yet, but holding it like a weapon.

“You keep saying I bring the same old bullshit. That I’m an underdog chasing a miracle, that I need to damn near kill you to win.”

Bella’s eyes were flat, steady, cold.

“Good. I want you to think that because maaaaybe once upon a time that was the case, but seeing as of lately that I have found some amazing success finally grasping what I really am.”

She lifted the crown.

“Kayla, I didn’t come here to outwrestle you. You said I can’t keep up but the truth is, you’re terrified I finally found the pace you can’t outrun.”

She stepped into the full neon glow, the colors painting her like a warrior forged in broken light.

“I came here to bury the last piece of your era and crown the next one. And for the first time in your life, Kayla Richards...”

Bella placed the crown on her own head, the metal jagged and hungry, catching the fractured neon around her.

“You are the one who is a moment away.”

The graveyard hummed with the signs flickering, buzzing, coming to life one last time like they recognized the coronation.

Bella’s voice fell to a whisper.

“And I’m going to make sure you never get that moment back.”

She turned from the camera, walking deeper into the graveyard, into the broken remains of legends who thought they’d never fall.

The last line drifted in the twilight behind her:

“Queen of Hardcore. End of enablement. End of eras. Inception is where you burn out so I can rise.”

And then she was gone.

~*~Lights, Ladders, and the Law of O’Connell Christmas~*~

The inside of the house had been perfect for weeks. The tree stood tall in the front window, a real one, fat and full, trimmed in white lights and ornaments that told the story of a family still becoming itself. Baby handprints in clay. A tiny wrestling boot ornament Mal pretended not to be emotional about. One with Máire’s name painted in crooked gold letters that Bella insisted was staying forever. The whole place smelled like pine, cinnamon, and whatever Bella’s mom had baked and left behind “by accident” the last time she visited.

Inside? They had crushed it.

Outside? Outside was where they’d dropped the ball.

Bella hadn’t even realized it until Máire, who was bundled in her pink coat and tiny knit hat before they left for some quick shopping, pressed her hands to the big front window and frowned like she’d just uncovered a betrayal.

“No lights,” she announced solemnly.

Bella paused mid-coffee sip, "What was that, baby?”

Máire turned around slowly, eyes wide with concern, "No lights, Mama. House look sad.”

Malachi froze where he stood, halfway through tying his boots. He glanced out the window, then back at his daughter, then at Bella, "Well,” he said carefully, “That feels like a personal attack.”

Bella bit her lip, "She’s not wrong. I can’t believe we completely forgot about the outside of the house.”

“Well, it is the first year and we have been super busy as of late.”

“Well, we are going out, I wonder if we can find anything.” Bella said with Mal giving her that look that told her she was absolutely nuts for it, “Look, I know that look but it’s not just for me, it’s for your daughter.”

“Ok...ok fine, but just ONE store, I’m not bloody driving all over creation for just a few twinkle lights....”

It was five hours later, a very long long trip to three different stores, a big ouch to the credit card and dealing with an over-caffeinated Bella and Máire who was a bundle of energy in her own right, and Malachi O’Connell found himself on the roof of their wrap-around porch.

The porch roof wasn’t especially high, but it was high enough that Bella had planted herself directly below with her hands on her hips, issuing commentary like a very stressed foreman, “Don’t lean like that.”

“I’m fine.” Mal grunted moving a line.

“You said that last time and you slipped.”

“That was one time.”

“ONE TIME TOO MANY.”

Mal, dressed in a heavy jacket, beanie pulled low, gloves on, carefully clipped another string of warm white lights into place, "You married a professional fighter, Bells. I think I can handle a ladder.”

“Yeah, and I’ve taped ribs on that ‘professional fighter’ before,” she shot back, "You fall, I’m dragging your ass inside myself.”

Máire stood next to her in the driveway, holding Luka’s leash with both mittened hands like it was a sacred responsibility. Luka, the husky menace herself, sprinted in frantic circles every time Mal shifted above them, barking like she was attempting a rescue operation. Thankfully she wasn’t yanking little Máire around.

“Luka thinks you’re in danger,” Bella called up.

Mal glanced down, "Luka thinks the mailman is a threat to national security.”

As if on cue, Luka skidded to a stop and let out a furious bark at nothing.

“See?” Mal added.

The yard had slowly transformed around them. From a glowing reindeer family stood near the walkway to a row of candy-cane lights marked the path to the porch. There was also a cheerful inflatable Santa waved near the front steps, already threatening to tip over every time the wind kicked up. And then there was the 10 foot Abominable Snowman. The inflatable had actually been Mal’s idea.

“I thought it’d be funny,” he’d said.

Now, as the blower kicked on when Bella plugged it in, the massive white creature slowly rose from the ground, blue face stretching into existence, arms lifting in a permanent roar. It was at this point that Luka lost her ever loving husky mind. She barked, lunged, skidded, tried to circle it like it was a living enemy, fur bristling, tail whipping behind her.

“DOG,” Máire shouted excitedly, pointing, "BIG MONSTER DOG!”

Bella laughed so hard she had to lean against the ladder, "Oh my God, she thinks it’s real.”

The Abominable finished inflating, towering proudly over the lawn. Luka planted herself in front of it and barked again and again and again. Mal leaned over the edge of the roof to look, "Is she... guarding us?”

“She is 100% prepared to die for this family,” Bella said, wiping tears from her eyes from laughing at her dog and her daughter losing it.

Máire giggled, the sound bright and pure in the cold air, "Good girl, Luka!”

Luka puffed her chest out like she understood the praise and barked louder.

Mal shook his head, smiling despite himself, "This is my life now. I fight grown adults for a living and lose to inflatable snow monsters.”

Bella looked up at him, lights glowing behind him, snow crunching under her boots, their daughter laughing beside her.

“Pretty good life,” she said softly.

He met her eyes and nodded, "Yeah. It really is.”

Finally, Mal climbed down, stepping onto the driveway as Bella reached out to steady him despite his protests. She brushed snow off his jacket, tugged his beanie down straight, kissed him once, quick and warm.

Máire clapped, "Daddy done!”

Mal spread his arms wide, "Daddy is ALL done. All that’s left is for mama to turn it on. You ready?”

“READY!!! MAMA!!! LIGHTS ON!!!”

Bella quickly ran over to the door, opened it and flipped the switch. The house came alive with warm white lights that traced the porch and roofline. The tree inside glowed proudly through the massive front window, visible from the street like a promise. The reindeer shimmered, Santa waved and the Abominable Snowman loomed triumphantly.

Máire gasped, "WOW.”

Bella crouched beside her, arm around her tiny shoulders, "What do you think, kiddo?”

Máire nodded seriously, "House happy now.”

Mal laughed quietly behind them, sliding an arm around Bella’s waist. Luka barked one last triumphant warning at the Abominable before flopping into the snow, exhausted but victorious.

Bella leaned into Mal, watching the lights twinkle against the night sky. It was their First Christmas in the house. First year like this. It was hard-earned, well-loved, chaotic and perfect. And for the first time in a long time, Bella felt something settle in her chest that had nothing to do with fighting.

Home.


~*~Steam, Scars, and the Things That Don’t Wash Away~*~

The bathroom was warm in that quiet, cocooned way that only happened late at night, when the house had finally exhaled.

Steam fogged the mirror, blurring the edges of reality until the world felt smaller, safer. The only sounds were the low hum of the heater, the gentle slosh of water, and the faint, rhythmic creak of the house settling into sleep. Lavender bubbles piled high in the tub, a ridiculous amount of them, spilling over the porcelain edge like Bella had lost a personal vendetta against moderation. She sank deeper into the bath with a contented sigh, shoulders slipping beneath the surface, muscles loosening one knot at a time.

Blessed the Gods, this felt good.

Her blonde hair was twisted up into a messy bun, a few damp curls already escaping and clinging to her neck. Her skin flushed pink from the heat. For once, there was no rush, no crazy schedule, no wrist to tape and at the moment, no flight to catch. Just warmth and stillness and the kind of quiet she didn’t trust but secretly craved.

Malachi leaned against the bathroom counter, arms folded, still fully dressed in a worn hoodie and sweats, watching her with the expression of a man who knew he’d already lost any argument he might attempt tonight.

“You’ve officially used all the bubbles,” he said mildly amused to watch his wife in the large bathtub. There would be every so often that he would join her but he didn’t think now would have been the time, especially with the 2 year old knowing to wake up at any given moment.

Bella cracked one eye open, "That is completely incorrect, sir. I left some in case of emotional emergencies.”

Mal snorted, "That explains why the bathroom looks like a rabid unicorn exploded in here.”

She grinned, lifting one foot out of the water just enough to flick bubbles in his direction, "You love it.”

“I tolerate it,” he corrected, swiping a bubble off his sleeve, "Out of deep marital devotion.”

“Damndabe lies,” Bella said lazily, "You’re just jealous because I’m warm and you’re not.”

“False. I’m emotionally warm and a few other feelings sitting here watching you..”

She rolled her eyes, sinking again, arms floating atop the foam. For a moment, she let herself just be, wife, mother, woman and not a fighter, not a champion, not a problem waiting to happen.

Her eyes drifted to her left forearm where a scar was faint but permanent. It came from an old barbed wire spot. There was another from a ladder rung that bit back. This was among the myriad of a constellation of smaller marks, some faded, some stubborn, but every single one of them...all earned.

Her gaze moved without conscious permission from her knuckles to her wrists. She took one finger and traced her collarbone take the mental notes of the body she lived in that wasn't broken, but it had been paid for.

Mal noticed the shift immediately. He always did, "You okay?” he asked quietly.

Bella hummed, "Mm. Just... thinking.”

“That’s never ominous at all,” he replied, but his tone softened as he moved closer, perching on the edge of the tub. One hand rested against the porcelain near her shoulder, fingers brushing the water, "What about?”

She shrugged, bubbles popping softly against her skin, "It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“How easy it is to forget.” Her voice was calm, almost amused, "How hard it was to get here.”

Mal followed her line of sight, his jaw tightening just a fraction. He didn’t interrupt, he never did when she got like this.

“I love this,” Bella continued, "Everything that we have. From the house, to the quiet. You and Máire. The crazy dog that loves to bark at inflatable monsters.” A smile tugged at her lips, "I love being... gentle.”

She turned her head to look at him, "But I’m not built for it alone.”

There it was and that caused Mal to exhale slowly, "You don’t have to be just one thing, you know that right?”

“I know.” She reached up, dragging a line of bubbles onto his sleeve deliberately, "But I tried babe. For a long while I tried being nice and I tried playing polite. I’m pretty sure that I even tried pretending that if I just smiled and behaved and waited my turn, things would sort themselves out.” Her hand disappeared beneath the foam, "And instead,” she said softly, “I felt dull.”

Mal didn’t flinch. He nodded once.

“I should have learned this from you....but...peace doesn’t sharpen you,” she went on, "It cushions you and makes you forget where the edges are.”

She shifted, sitting up slightly, water cascading down her shoulders, bubbles clinging to her skin. Steam curled around her like a shroud.

Mal reached out, brushing a damp curl from her face, "And that scares you?”

“No,” Bella said honestly, "What scares me is pretending I’m not dangerous. There were people saying that I had just spent so long playing nicey nice with people that it may have actually cost me chances that I should have had a while ago.”

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t heavy, and it most certainly wasn’t strained. Just real like it always was between them.

She looked down at her hands again, turned them over, palms up and palms down.

“These hands don’t know how to be delicate when it matters,” she murmured, "Lately it seems like they only know how to endure, how to hold on and how to break things if they have to.”

Mal’s thumb brushed her shoulder, "They also know how to rock our kid to sleep.”

Bella smiled, soft and small, "Yeah, they do.”

There was a moment of silence between them and then something behind her eyes shifted.

It was acceptance of what she had to become. It wasn’t anger, nor bitterness. Just the solid truth that she had to evolve into something more. She leaned back, letting the water reclaim her, closing her eyes and just calculating her next set of moments. When she opened them again, the playfulness was back.

“Hey,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“When I get out,” she said casually, “Can you hand me the wraps from the drawer?”

Mal raised a brow, "Planning a late-night cardio session?”

“Something like that.”

He studied her face for a long moment, then nodded, "I’ll get them.”

She smirked, "You always do.”

When the water finally cooled, Bella stood, stepping out onto the mat, dripping and unhurried. She wrapped herself in a towel, steam rising from her skin like smoke from a fuse finally lit.

Mal handed her the wraps without a word. Their fingers brushed and that was enough. She began winding the fabric around her hands, methodical. Familiar. The motions came without thought, muscle memory clicking into place.

Each layer felt like armor sliding back where it belonged. Mal leaned against the doorframe, watching, knowing better than to interrupt the ritual.

By the time she finished, Bella flexed her hands once..just once.

The Hardcore Queen hadn’t arrived with a roar, she arrived with a quiet certainty.

And somewhere in the house, the woman, the wife, the mother stepped aside, she was not erased or abandoned, but she was simply making room.

Bella met Mal’s eyes, "Christmas is almost here,” she said lightly.

He smiled, "Yeah.”

“And then?” She tightened the final knot, Bella said, calm and deadly, “It’s going to hurt again.”


~*~Rules of Engagement: Sometimes It Has To Be Your Friends~*~

Denver didn’t feel like December and that was the problem. The winter in Denver was supposed to have teeth bared where it didn’t matter how many layers you had on, it was supposed to be sharp.

Instead, the air was dry, thin, and carrying the faint smell of asphalt and pine instead of snow. There was no bite whatsoever, no frost and not even the glimmer of a flurry. It was just a strange, almost defiant warmth lingering in the low fifties, the kind that made people forget it was supposed to be winter at all. There were Christmas lights still stretched across the plaza, glowing uselessly against bare concrete and brick, twinkling without snow to soften them.

Bella stood beneath them anyway. Across the way, people laughed as shoppers hurried by with bags in hand, kids tugging at parents, begging for cocoa or photos with Santa. There was the normal life and festive life.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from Mal she didn’t need to read to know the contents of.

You good?

She was and she wasn’t.

The plaza outside the old Denver market hall buzzed with life, street musicians playing off-key carols, tourists lingering longer than they should because the weather let them, kids darting between planters instead of trudging through slush. A massive Christmas tree rose behind her, fully decorated, proud, almost out of place without snow clinging to its branches. Wrapped boxes sat at its base, pristine and untouched.

It was too clean and Bella hated that.

She wore black, boots solid against dry pavement, her coat open just enough to show the wraps on her hands. No gloves tonight....There was no need. The warmth felt wrong on her skin, like the world had forgotten what season it was supposed to be in.

And on top of it all Sunday loomed with Climax Control. The last before Christmas, which was always gimmicked up with unknown stipulations on every match. Of course they were always...well majority of the time...Christmas themed.

She exhaled slowly, watching the breath barely fog, another reminder that things weren’t lining up the way they should.

“Alicia Lukas,” Bella said quietly, tasting the name like a truth she respected, "Wolfslair. Stablemate, which I’m sure some of you guys completely forgot about. Someone that I consider a friend and even a mentor. AND the current reigning SCW Bombshell Roulette Champion. And the woman that I'll be standing across from in a few days, and while her title is not on the line, pride very much in play.”

Bella leaned back against the railing, eyes lifting toward the skyline, toward the mountains barely visible through the haze. Denver always felt like a city that tricked people, thin air, high elevation, things catching up to you faster than expected. It fit her mood perfectly.

“This isn’t about disrespect,” Bella said aloud, voice calm, controlled, "You’ve earned everything you’ve got, Alicia. Every spin of that wheel, every scar you carry.”

Her jaw tightened.

“But you have to know something, I’m done waiting and I’m done giving a shit about people that don’t give a shit about me. We have this unknown match style hangs over us thoughts like a bad idea nobody had stopped yet. Christmas lights wrapped around weapons, tables painted festive red and green, candy canes that snapped instead of sweetened....A holiday theme that would turn cruel the second the bell rings.”

Bella’s mouth curved, but not into a smile, not quite.

“They can make it as cute as they want,” she continued, "They can dress it up and slap tinsel on it and pretend it’s fun. But violence doesn’t care about the season, and as we know pain doesn't give a SHIT about Christmas.”

She stepped closer to the tree, fingers brushing the edge of one of the wrapped boxes. The shiny paper reflected her back at her, fractured, distorted, multiplied. A woman shaped by impact, by endurance, by refusal.

Her scars prickled beneath her clothes, "Every mark on my body is proof,” Bella said softly, "Not of what I lost but of what I survived. I have had to evolve into someone who just puts their entire BEING on the line every single fucking time, without so much as ‘thank you’ nor a ‘fuck you’ from anyone. I know that Mal is worried about me, "

She straightened, shoulders rolling back.

“Alicia, I don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted, "But I will not hesitate, not now. I can’t afford to, not with Inception breathing down my neck and another legend of Kayla Richards being right there waiting on me to slip. Not when everyone seems content to keep me in limbo while Crystal Caldwell and Mercedes Vargas play queen of the mountain with their horrible Telenovela soap opera shit going on.”

Her eyes hardened.

“This Sunday isn’t about friendship or mentorship, it’s about the clarity that I’m still searching for.”

Bella’s fingers flexed inside the wraps, tension finally cracking through her composure.

“Alicia,” she said again, slower this time, heavier, "You’re not just another name on a card to me. You’re someone I’ve watched battle whole ass wars without whining. Someone who never ducked a fight, even when the Roulette wheel damn near tried to ruin her career week after week. You stood in that chaos and you owned it.”

She shook her head once, a faint, bitter smile touching her lips.

“And that’s exactly why this sucks.”

Bella pushed off the railing, pacing now, boots scraping against concrete.

“Because if this were anyone else, I wouldn’t even hesitate. But you?” Her eyes narrowed, "You force me to look at myself. You force me to ask whether I still hesitate when it’s someone I respect. You have ZERO issue in shoving that mirror directly in my face. Especially when it’s someone who stood next to me under the same banner, when it’s someone I’d normally trust to have my back.”

She stopped, dead still.

“And here’s the answer.”

Bella lifted her chin.

“I don’t.”

Her voice didn’t rise. It hardened.

“I won’t pull a punch because we share a locker room. I won’t soften the blow because you’ve been a mentor. I won’t apologize for making a point just because it hurts more when it’s someone I know can take it.”

Her jaw clenched.

“If I’m going to call myself the Queen of Hardcore, if I’m going to walk into Inception with my head high against Kayla, then I don’t get to pick safe opponents. I don’t get to choose comfort. I have to prove that when the line is drawn, I will cross it no matter who’s standing on the other side.”

Bella’s eyes burned now, not with anger but with full resolve.

“So Alicia, understand this,” she said firmly, "This isn’t betrayal...This is brutal honesty. This is me telling you that on Sunday, I’m not your stablemate. I’m not your friend.”

She exhaled once, sharp and final.

“I’m the storm you survive or the one that proves why I wear the crown.”

Bella reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a velvet bag, small and unassuming. She loosened the drawstring and tipped it into her palm. Metal caught the light.

A crown, it was dark steel, jagged, twisted into thorns that looked like they’d tear into flesh as easily as they’d draw blood. It was not remotely elegant. But it was very symbolic.

She held it up beneath the Christmas lights, the warmth of the night and the festive lights doing nothing to soften its edges.

“This isn’t decoration,” Bella said evenly, "This is a statement.”

She lowered it, grip firm.

“I’m coming out with this on because I have fucking EARNED this. When this is over, when the lights are broken, when whatever holiday nightmare they throw at us is finished, I am going to put this on again and I’m going to make my way to Vegas.”

Her gaze burned with certainty.

“Not because I beat a champion and it’s not because I survived another match. But because no one else has paid the price I have as of late.”

Bella lifted the crown just slightly, shadows cutting across her face.

“I am the Queen of Hardcore and I’m going to show everyone that this is a monster that not even her friends can stop.”

The plaza buzzed on, oblivious with all the laughter, music, warmth and Bella turned away from all of it.

Sunday was coming. And even without the cold...

Christmas was still going to hurt.

~*~The Request~*~

The fluorescent lights in the backstage hallway buzzed faintly, casting a cold, sterile glow along the concrete. It smelled like sweat and disinfectant and the metal tang of adrenaline, and Bella moved through it as if she were cutting through fog. Her jaw was tight. Her fingers flexed and unflexed at her sides, her pulse an uneven rhythm pounding at her throat.

She hadn’t bothered to shower. She hadn’t peeled off the tape wrapped around her wrists, now loose and fraying like the ends of her patience. Her hair clung to her face, damp with effort and heat. And every step she took felt sharp. Deliberate. Controlled only by the thinnest threads of will.

People saw her coming and parted. No one spoke. No one asked. They understood. Even those who didn’t know her well recognized what a person looked like when they were holding themselves together by force.

She reached Evelyn Hall’s office and didn’t stop walking.

The door slammed against the wall as she pushed through it.

Evelyn looked up from her desk. There was someone else in the office—production staff, headset around his neck—but the moment he saw Bella, he excused himself without waiting to be asked. The door clicked closed behind him, leaving the room thick and too quiet.

Bella stood there, chest rising and falling, fists curled so tight she could feel the sting of her own nails.

“I want a match at High Stakes,” she said.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it hit the room like a thrown knife.

Evelyn regarded her with steady, assessing eyes. “Bella...”

“No.” The word was sharp. Not shouted, just final. “Don’t try to talk me down. Don’t try to handle me. I know what happened out there. I know I lost. I am not asking you to pretend it didn’t happen.”

She stepped further into the room, the floor thudding quietly beneath her boots.

“But I am not spending High Stakes watching from backstage,” she continued. “I am not sitting quietly. I am not fading into the background because tonight didn’t go my way.”

Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with emotion trying to claw its way out.

“I have worked too damn hard to get here. I have bled, and broken, and rebuilt myself more times than most people even think is possible. I will not be an afterthought.”

Her hands had begun to shake. She forced them to still.

“I don’t care who you give me. I don’t care what match you put me in. All I know is I need to fight. I need to hit something. I need to feel that moment again—where everything makes sense the second fists connect and the world is only what is directly in front of me.”

Silence swelled between them, full and heavy.

Evelyn didn’t challenge her. Didn’t flinch. She understood violence-driven clarity better than most.

“You’ll be on the High Stakes card,” Evelyn said finally, calm and certain. “Not because you’re demanding it. But because you’ve earned it. You have been undeniable. You still are.”

Bella breathed out, but it wasn’t relief. It was something sharper. Something that hurt.

“Then tell me who,” she said.

“You’ll know before the night ends.” Evelyn’s voice softened, not pity, never pity, just something human. “But for now... go breathe. Before you burn yourself alive trying to prove you’re still on fire.”

Bella didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The knot in her chest was too tight, the pressure behind her ribs too thick.

She turned and walked out.

The door to Evelyn Hall’s office shut behind Bella with a hard finality, not a slam, but close enough that the sound echoed down the corridor. Her breath was ragged, her pulse still buzzing from the match and the adrenaline and the anger that hadn’t found anywhere to go yet.

The hallway felt too bright. Too empty.

She walked fast, fists still clenched. The bones in her hands ached from how tightly she’d wrapped them around the ropes earlier. She could still taste the copper of her own blood where she’d bitten the inside of her cheek not to scream.

Crystal’s voice replayed in her mind. The smile. The smugness. The hand raised.

Bella’s stomach twisted.

She turned a corner and stopped.

Mal stood there, leaning against a production crate. Jeans, dark t-shirt, jacket still unzipped like he hadn’t even bothered to take it off when he got here. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times. He wasn’t dressed to wrestle, he wasn’t part of the roster right now, but he was here. Just like he always was.

Luka lay at his feet, head on her paws, ears perked the second Bella came into view. Bella froze. Mal’s eyes lifted to hers, steady, clear, and entirely there. No surprise. No confusion.

Just: I was waiting for you.

Bella swallowed hard. The words that came out were raw, scraped from the inside of her throat, “Where’s Máire?”

“With your mother,” Mal answered gently. “She’s already asleep.”

Bella nodded, quick, sharp, relief hitting first, then guilt right behind it.

“Good,” she whispered, voice thinner than she wanted it to be. “She shouldn’t... she shouldn’t see me like this.”

Mal didn’t move closer. Not yet. He watched her, the way her shoulders were locked, the way her jaw wouldn’t unclench, the way she was holding herself upright by sheer force of will.

When she finally let out a breath that sounded like it hurt, then he pushed off the crate and approached her.

He didn’t ask anything else.

He just said, soft and certain, “Talk to me.”

Bella laughed, but it was hollow, humorless, brittle. The kind of laugh you let out when the other option is screaming.

“I asked Evelyn for a match at High Stakes,” she said. Her words tripped over themselves, too fast, too sharp. “I don’t care who it is, I just need, I need to fix this. I need to remind every single person who the hell I am. Because I should’ve had that match. I should’ve won. And I’m not—I’m not letting this be the step I fall on. I’m not....”

Her voice cracked.

Mal stepped into her space now, slow enough that she could pull back if she chose to. She didn’t. His hand came up, fingers sliding into her hair at the back of her head, thumb brushing the tense muscle along her neck.

“It was one match,” he murmured. “One. Match.”

“It was supposed to be my match,” she shot back, and this time the tears didn’t wait for permission, they hit fast, hot, angry. “I did everything right. I did everything I was supposed to do, and she still...and I still....”

Mal’s forehead touched hers, grounding her breath to his.

“Mo chroí,” he said, voice low. “Look at me.” Her eyes lifted. “You are not done. You are not less than you were yesterday. You are not broken. You lost one match, that does not erase the war you’ve been winning for months.”

Her lip trembled. “It feels like it does.”

“That’s the part of your brain that only speaks when you’re hurt,” he whispered. “You don’t listen to it. Not tonight.”

Bella’s fists clenched in the front of his shirt, needing something, anything, to anchor her.

“Tell me I’m not slipping,” she whispered. “Please.”

Mal didn’t hesitate.

“You are climbing.” His voice didn’t waver. “You’re just climbing hard. And yeah, it hurts. And yeah, it doesn’t always go clean. But you don’t break, Bella. You don’t stay down. I’ve never seen you stay down.”

Her breath came out shakier than she liked, but calmer. Luka stepped forward and nudged her leg, quiet, grounding, loyal. Bella closed her eyes for a moment, forehead still resting against Mal’s.

“What if the match they give me isn’t enough?” she asked quietly. “What if it isn’t the fight I need?”

Mal’s thumb brushed her cheek, catching a tear before it fell.

“Then you make it enough,” he said simply. “You always do.”

For the first time since the bell rang, Bella exhaled without it breaking inside her. She nodded. Not because everything was okay. But because she could stand again.

“Come on,” Mal said, voice soft. “Let’s go home.”

Bella wiped her face, took a breath, and took his hand. And the storm didn’t feel so heavy anymore.


~*~Glass Houses and Loud Mouths~*~
[size=118]
[/size]The flight home had been quiet. Calm, even. The kind of quiet where the world stops vibrating for a minute and just lets you breathe. Bella had slept against the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass, Luka curled at her feet under the seat, Mal’s hand steady and warm over hers the whole way.

But morning had no such mercy.

The O’Connell home just outside of New York City was wrapped in the kind of autumn sunlight that made everything look softer, golden leaves scattered across the back deck, a chill in the air but not enough to bite. Luka had already bolted outside to chase something that probably wasn’t there. Máire sat cross-legged on the living room rug, Bluey pajama pants and all, making her stuffed animals have an aggressively enthusiastic tea party.

Bella was on the couch, still half in her hoodie, socks mismatched, hair up in a messy bun she hadn’t bothered to fix. Phone in hand. Eyes narrowing.

Mal leaned in the doorway with his coffee mug, watching her expression go from tired to flat deadpan are you fucking kidding me in under two seconds.

“...What now?” he asked.

Bella didn’t answer at first, she just held up her phone so he could see the screen.

Twitter. X ....whatever the fuck it was called just because Elon couldn’t just let shit alone.

Cassie Wolfe, complaining very publicly about being left off High Stakes. Words like respect and overlooked and robbed thrown around with the subtlety of a brick through a window.

Mal let out a very slow exhale. “Ah,” he said. “So we’re doing this today.”[/color]
Bella’s jaw flexed. “I tried,” she said. “I tried to have a normal morning. I was going to make waffles. I was going to let my muscles stop feeling like they were made of railroad spikes. But no. No. She had to get online and act like someone personally peed in her cereal.”

Máire, overhearing nothing but somehow choosing violence, slammed her stuffed kangaroo into the plastic tea set.

“KICK!” she announced to no one in particular.

Mal winced. “She gets that from you.”

Bella didn’t even attempt to argue the point.

Her thumbs moved fast. First hit that retweet button and then...

Bella Madison: "Waaaah I wanna be relevant, waaaaahhhh I wanna be noticed too," my 2 year old throws better fits than this Cass.

It took Cassie all of thirty seconds to respond.

More whining. More dramatics. More I deserve and I’ve worked too hard and nobody respects me. Bella didn’t even blink.

Bella: Here is a BRILLIANT idea Cassie, instead of coming up on this platform to whine & bitch about not being book, call, message...hell even carrier pigeon Christian or even Ms. Hall and say "Hey, just wondering why I was left off the card." & who knows...maybe they'll find you a spot

Mal walked over and set his coffee down on the table beside her and simply said, “Breathe.”

“Oh, I am very calm,” she said, with the tone of someone who was absolutely not calm. “In fact, I’m calm enough to be petty.”

And then the message pinged.

Evelyn Hall.

Bella opened it.

If you’re open to it, I can add Cassie to your match with Bea. That way she has a chance to prove whatever it is she thinks she’s owed. Let me know.

Bella’s lips curled. She didn’t just smile. She grinned. “Of course,” she murmured.

Mal raised a brow. “You’re sure?”

Bella turned the phone so he could see her reply being typed:

Bella: Absolutely. Add her.

Send. She locked the screen and finally turned toward him.

“Cassie wants to act like she’s been wronged?” Bella said, voice low, even, dangerously level. “Then she can step into the ring and find out real fast that the only thing wrong is how far up her own ass her head is.”

Mal watched her for a long, quiet beat, that mixture of supportive husband and oh boy she’s choosing violence again very, very present.

Finally, he kissed her forehead.

“Just remember,” he murmured, “you’re teaching a lesson, not committing a felony.”

“I make no promises,” she said.

From the rug, Máire lifted her kangaroo again, face serious as a judge.

“BOOM!” she declared, and body-slammed it into the carpet.

Bella pointed at her like she’d just won a legal argument.

“See?” she said. “The child understands.”

Mal sighed. “The child eats crayons if we don’t watch her.”

“EXACTLY,” Bella said, throwing her hands up. “And she still understands the consequences.”

Luka barked outside. Somewhere inside Bella, the frustration finally uncoiled, not gone, but directed. Sharpened and focused.

This match was no longer about recovering from a loss. This match was now personal.

Cassie made it so. Bella would make sure she regretted it.


~*~Rules of Engagement: Show Me What You Got ~*~

The video opens on Bella’s living room, transformed into a glitter-coated pastel disaster zone. Pink fuzzy pillows. Sparkle lamp. A plastic princess tiara sits crooked on Bella’s head. She’s chewing a gum bubble obnoxiously loud.

Bella is cross-legged on the couch, wearing a baby-pink sweater with glitter letters that read: “Daddy’s Little Main Character”

She raises her phone and starts recording herself selfie-style, voice switching into a grating, overly dramatic Valley Girl tone.

“Oh. My. GOD. So like, can we TALK about the absolute INJUSTICE that is happening right now??”

Hair flip. Another hair flip. Another. She's committing.

“So I didn’t get booked for High Stakes, which is like, SO disrespectful because I’m, like, literally destined for greatness?? Like, hello?? Have you met my father?? I should automatically be like...at LEAST mid-card.”

She pouts. Lollipop appears from nowhere.

“And then there’s Bea... like... trying SO hard to prove she belongs, which is so cute, honestly. Like...awww. She’s like the class hamster of SCW. She tries so hard, you guys!!”

Bella gasps, clutching invisible pearls.

“But then!!! I had to go on Twitter and cry about it because THAT is what REAL wrestlers do, we don’t earn opportunities, we don’t even ASK NICELY!!!! We have public meltdowns about them!”

She stomps on the couch cushion like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum.

“I DESERVE this match!! I am IMPORTANT!! PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEEEE!!!!!”

And just like that, Bella drops the act.

She straightens up, removes the tiara and tosses it aside. The real Bella is here. Her eyes are sharp, controlled, precise.

“Let’s start with you, Cassie. You didn’t fight your way into this match. You complained your way into it. You think this is your grand breakthrough moment? No. This is the moment reality gets introduced to your face, violently. You’re not the underdog. You’re not the future. You’re not the one people are sleeping on.”

“You’re just loud.”

“And at High Stakes? I’m going to turn the volume off.”

Now she shifts to Bea, tone changes completely. No mockery. No performance. Just cold, unflinching truth.

“Bea. You and I have been in the same trenches. Same rebuild. Same grind. You and I both know what it’s like to have to prove ourselves every time we step into that ring. You should be the one I’m focused on.”

“You should be the threat. But the problem is...”

She tilts her head, studying the camera like she’s dissecting the match already.

“You’ve spent so long trying to convince people you belong that you’ve forgotten how to take it. You fight not to lose. I fight to win and that’s the difference right there.”

She stands. The tone turns razor clean.

“So let me make this about as perfectly fucking clear. At High Stakes, I don’t need to beat both of you. I need to outlast your excuses.”

“Cassie? You’re getting humbled. Bea? You’re getting reminded. Me? I’m getting what I came for. Not because I screamed the loudest. Not because I begged for the spotlight. But because I earned it. Every match, every step, every scar.

Bella looks into the camera, steady. Certain. Not angry and fully in control.

“I’m not walking into High Stakes to prove I belong. I’m walking in to take my place. And the two of you? Are just what I have to step through to get there.”

Just then Mal comes down and sees Bella in her full on getup, “And just like that...I have a new kink.”

~*~Big Girl Dreams~*~
O’Connell Home

The sound of an electric drill whirred through the baby monitor long before it should have.

Bella stood in the doorway of her daughter’s room, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a small Allen wrench, "You know, someone could’ve waited for me to finish reading the instructions before starting.”

Mal glanced up from where he was crouched on the floor, half of the new toddler bed assembled, a smug grin tugging at his lips, "Instructions are just suggestions, love. Between libraries, your crazy Ninja Warrior set up, out in the barn. I've built whole sets backstage faster than this.”

Bella arched her brow, "And how many of those fell apart halfway through the show?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a sheepish shrug, "Ok so I didn’t work alone on those but the point still stands.”

The room around them was in that perfect kind of chaos that came from trying to grow up too fast, paint swatches taped on the wall, a new “big girl” comforter waiting to be unwrapped, and Máire’s stuffed animals piled like a mountain in the corner. Luka had claimed the pile as her throne for now, curled up on top of a headless unicorn plush, her one brown and one blue eyes lazily tracking her humans.

Bella knelt beside her, running a hand through the husky’s thick fur, "You’d better get used to this, Luka. She’s not gonna stay in one place anymore.”

As if on cue, a loud thud echoed down the hall, followed by the unmistakable patter of bare feet.

Mal groaned, "And that would be the escape artist herself. She must of decided to wake up from her nap.”

Bella turned just in time to see Máire peek around the corner, her dirty blonde curls wild, clutching her favorite stuffed dinosaur that was given to her by her Auntie Si and Uncle Lach, by the neck. Her wide eyes lit up when she saw what her parents were doing.

“Bed!” she squealed, barreling into the room, "My bed?”

“Yes my pretty girl, that’s your new bed,” Bella confirmed, scooping her up, "Since someone learned how to climb out of her crib in the middle of the night.”

Máire giggled, tucking her face against Bella’s shoulder, "I big girl now.”

Mal set the drill aside and grinned, "That you are, peanut. Big enough for your own bed, big enough to give your old man a heart attack every time you sneak down the hall.”

“She doesn’t sneak,” Bella said dryly, "She stomps like a baby elephant.”

“Elephaaaant!” Máire repeated gleefully as she squirmed out of her momma’s arms and reenacted the stomps. Luka barked once, tail thumping, as if joining in on the chaos.

For a moment, the room was filled with laughter and movement, Bella helping Mal line up the last slats, Máire “supervising” from her new mattress, Luka refusing to move from her plush pile.

Once the bed was done, Bella stood back, brushing a smear of sawdust off her jeans. The sight of it, small but sturdy, with soft pink sheets and a crescent moon nightlight on the wall, made her chest tighten.

She remembered when the crib first arrived. Mal had assembled it while she sat, eight months pregnant, arguing that the mattress was too firm. Now, here they were again, same couple, same laughter, same stubborn arguments, just with a toddler who could open doors and climb out of cribs like it was an Olympic sport. Thankfully they managed to install the gates at the bottom and top of the steps after the first time she snuck down a couple of weeks ago. That was enough of a heart attack to last them both a lifetime.

Mal slipped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now, "She’s growing up, huh?”

Bella nodded, eyes lingering on their daughter as Máire arranged her stuffed animals on the bed in meticulous chaos, "Too fast,” she whispered, "Feels like I blinked and suddenly we’re here.”

Mal chuckled quietly, "That’s parenthood for you. Blink, and she’s already running the place.”

Bella exhaled a laugh, but her eyes stayed warm, a quiet ache settling in behind them.

Máire climbed up onto her bed, proudly bouncing once before flopping backward, hair fanned across the pillow, "I sleep here!” she announced.

Bella smiled through the lump in her throat, "Yeah, baby. You sleep there.”

Luka hopped off the pile of toys and padded over, circling once before curling up at the foot of the bed, her chin resting on her paws.

“See?” Mal said softly, "She’s already got security covered.”

Bella smirked, "That dog’s gonna hog the covers before bedtime even starts.”

But as she watched her little girl stroke Luka’s fur, eyelids already drooping with contentment, Bella knew this was the kind of night she’d remember. The kind that didn’t need bright lights or roaring crowds, just sawdust on the floor, laughter echoing down the hall, and the tiny heartbeat of a new chapter starting in their home.

It was supposed to be a simple night.

Dinner, bath, bedtime.

Three steps. Easy.

At least, that’s what Bella told herself....and maybe the universe heard her because it immediately decided to make a liar out of her.

“Máire, no, not the dog’s water bowl again!”

The toddler turned with that trademark grin, the one that made her look exactly like her father, as her chubby hand hovered over Luka’s dish, "Luka thirsty!”

Bella groaned, scooping her up before she could dump it, "Luka’s always thirsty, baby, but that doesn’t mean we take a bath in her water.”

From the hallway, Mal’s laugh echoed, low and amused, "To be fair, she did try to give Luka a drink.”

Bella shot him a look over Máire’s curls, "You’re not helping.”

He held up his hands in surrender, "Just saying...she’s resourceful.”

“She’s trouble,” Bella muttered, setting Máire down and guiding her toward the freshly assembled toddler bed, "Come on, big girl. Bedtime.”

“Big girl bed!” Máire squealed, climbing up with a little hop. Luka immediately followed, leaping onto the mattress with a thud that made the whole bed bounce.

Bella pinched the bridge of her nose, "And now it’s a party.”

Mal chuckled from the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded, "She’s gotta break it in.”

“Not if she breaks herself first,” Bella shot back, moving to shoo Luka down, "Off, girl. Bed’s for babies, not fluffy chaos gremlin machines.” Luka gave her a dramatic sigh before hopping off and curling up on the rug instead, though not without giving Bella one last wounded look over her shoulder.

When Máire was finally settled, surrounded by her plush army of animals, a sippy cup of water within reach, and her nightlight glowing soft amber, Bella sat at the edge of the bed. She brushed her daughter’s hair back, watching those heavy lids blink slower and slower.

“Mommy?” came the small, sleepy voice.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You stay?”

Bella smiled, "For a bit.”

Mal came in quietly then, crouching beside the bed, "You get some sleep, peanut. Luka’s right outside if you need her.”

“’Kay,” Máire mumbled, already half-dreaming.

Bella and Mal waited there for a long moment, just listening, the hum of the nightlight, Luka’s quiet breathing, the rhythmic suck of a toddler thumb.

When they finally tiptoed out, closing the door almost all the way, Bella leaned back against it and exhaled, "That went better than I thought.”

Mal grinned, "You say that now.”

It took precisely thirty-eight minutes.

Thirty-eight minutes before the pitter-patter of bare feet echoed down the hall, followed by the tiny creak of their bedroom door.

Bella lifted her head from the pillow, blinking in the dim light, "...Mal?”

“Not me,” he murmured sleepily, "We’ve been infiltrated.”

Sure enough, a shadowy figure stood in the doorway clutching a blanket and a stuffed unicorn.

“Mommy,” came the small voice, "Luka snore too loud.”

Mal snorted into his pillow. Bella bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Come here, baby,” she said softly, lifting the blanket. Máire scrambled up between them, snuggling into her mother’s chest with a content sigh. Luka padded in seconds later, tail wagging, and flopped down at the foot of the bed as if reclaiming her post.

Mal rolled onto his side, one arm draped over both of them, "Told you she’d break it in,” he whispered.

Bella smirked against his shoulder, "Yeah, well, maybe she just needed a trial run.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, voice low and warm, "You did good, Bells. You both did.”

Bella’s eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion tugging at the edges of her thoughts, "Yeah...she’s growing too fast, Mal.”

He nodded against her hair, "That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”

In the silence that followed, Bella could feel her daughter’s tiny hand clutching her shirt, the gentle brush of Luka’s fur against her feet, and Mal’s steady heartbeat under her palm.

This, this was what she fought for every time she stepped into that ring. The bruises, the pain, the chaos, they all led back to moments like this.

Her family. Her world.

The Hardcore Queen of SCW and the softest heart in the room.

~*~Iron and Fire~*~
O’Connell Barn Gym - Late Afternoon

Rain whispered against the roof of the barn, soft but steady, the kind of gray drizzle that made the world outside feel small and quiet. Inside, though, there was nothing quiet about the rhythm of Bella Madison’s training.

Thud.
Thud-thud.

Each hit landed heavier than the last. The heavy bag swayed with each impact, a steady, violent metronome to the thoughts crashing through her mind.

Her hair clung to her face, sweat tracing lines down her neck. The skin across her knuckles burned beneath her wraps, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not yet.

It wasn’t just a workout, it was a war being fought one punch at a time.

Because in less than a week, she’d be standing across the ring from Victoria Lyons, the so-called Queen of SCW, the woman who had dominated the Bombshells Roulette division for over a year.

Victoria wasn’t a stepping stone. She was an Everest.

And if Bella wanted that shot at Frankie Holliday, that one shot at the SCW Bombshell World Championship, she’d have to climb her and then keep on climbing.

“Push harder,” she muttered under her breath, the words rough between clenched teeth, "Come on, Madison. Don’t you dare slow down now.”

Her body screamed for a break. Her mind told her to ignore it.

When the barn door creaked open, Bella didn’t even look up, "I’m not done.”

“I can see that,” came the voice, calm, measured, and unmistakably her mother’s. Laura Phoenix stood framed in the doorway, rain jacket still half-zipped, a thermos in her hand. She looked around the barn, taking in the scene: the sweat, the bags, the faint tremor in Bella’s arms from fatigue.

Then she sighed, "Jesus, Bells. Are you trying to train yourself into the hospital?”

Bella grabbed the swinging bag, breathing hard as she wiped sweat from her brow, "No. Just trying to make sure I don’t walk into the tournament unprepared. You should recognize it, I learned it from you and dad.”

“Unprepared?” Laura raised a brow, stepping inside, "You’ve been in here three hours. I should know, I tried to catch you before you started training and Mal told me you were already out here. The only thing you’re unprepared for is a nap.”

Bella didn’t smile. She turned back to the bag, hitting it again, just once, hard enough to make the chains rattle, "Victoria Lyons isn’t some rookie, Mom. She’s a monster, a monster that is attempting redemption but a monster. You know it. Everyone knows it. She’s been running over the Bombshells roster for a year, and nobody had been able to stop her until just recently. You really think I can just half-ass my way into that match?”

Laura watched her for a moment, expression unreadable. Then she set the thermos down on the bench, "No. But there’s a difference between being ready and burning yourself out.”

Bella rolled her shoulders, jaw tight, "You sound like Mal.”

“I sound like your mother,” Laura corrected, "Who’s been in this business long enough to know what happens when you let obsession drive the car.”

That made Bella pause....just long enough for Laura to step closer.

“I get it, Bells. I really do. You’ve got the fire back. You want to win this whole damn tournament and finally get the match you’ve been chasing. But you don’t have to kill yourself to prove you’re good enough.”

Bella turned then, eyes flashing, "Don’t I? Because every fucking time I’ve been this close, something happens. I get in my own way, or somebody else does. And you know what everyone whispers when I lose, Mom? That I’m just your kid. Or Mal’s wife. That I’m always almost there, but never the one who finishes the job.”

Laura’s expression softened, but her voice stayed steady, "You think I haven’t heard worse? You think I didn’t spend years being somebody’s daughter, somebody’s tag partner, somebody’s afterthought? You fight long enough, Bella, and you learn something....people will always talk. Some of them will never ever shut the fuck up. But what matters is what’s left when the lights go down and the crowd goes home.”

Bella exhaled, her breath shaky, "And what if what’s left isn’t enough?”

Laura stepped in, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Then you go back to work...you work smart, not desperate. You’ve already proven you can take a hit and keep fighting. You don’t need to prove it to anyone again.”

Bella looked down at her taped hands, "Victoria’s not just anyone.”

“I know,” Laura said quietly, "That’s why you fight her with your head as much as your heart. She’s not unbeatable, Bella. Nobody is. But you can’t beat her if you go into that match running on fumes.”

Bella swallowed, throat tight, "I don’t know how to stop.”

“I know,” Laura said softly, "That’s what scares me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, only the rain tapping against the roof and the low creak of the bag’s chain filling the space.

Then, almost as if on cue, Luka barked outside the barn, a sharp, cheerful sound that cut through the tension. Bella looked toward the open door, and for a second, she smiled.

“She’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long,” Bella said quietly.

Laura smirked, "Smart dog. Knows when to rest.”

Bella’s smile lingered, small but real, "Yeah....maybe I’ll try that. After another round.”

Laura gave her a look, one of those mom looks that said everything without a word, "Jesus you are worse than Nick at times. Okay, one more. Then you come inside, clean up, and eat something before you pass out. Deal?”

Bella nodded reluctantly, "Deal.”

As Laura turned to leave, she paused in the doorway, "And, Bella?”

“Yeah?”

Her mother smiled, proud, fierce, and maybe just a little misty-eyed.

“Victoria Lyons doesn’t know what she’s walking into and if she thinks she does, she’s a fool. You’re not the same woman she fought before. You’re stronger now, not because of the grind, but because you’ve got something she doesn’t.”

Bella tilted her head, "What’s that?”

Laura’s smirk turned knowing, "A reason.”

The words hung there long after she was gone.

Bella turned back to the bag, her reflection catching in the mirror opposite.

Her breath steadied. Her stance set.

And as she threw another punch, sharp, explosive, echoing through the barn, she whispered to herself,
“Let’s make her remember who I am.”

~*~Hardcore Queen~*~

Later that night

The rain hadn’t stopped. It came down in steady sheets, the sound echoing softly against the barn’s tin roof. The heavy bag still swayed from earlier, but now the space was dim, just the soft glow of a single work light overhead, the camera set up in front of it.

Bella Madison stood in front of that lens, hoodie zipped halfway, hair still damp from the shower, tape still clinging to her wrists like battle scars she hadn’t earned the right to remove yet.

She stared into the camera for a long moment before speaking, letting the silence stretch, letting the weight of her presence fill the space. Then, finally, she smirked.

“You ever notice how, every time a tournament like this rolls around, it brings out the best and the worst in fucking everyone?”

Her voice was calm, almost conversational, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.

“People talk about destiny, about legacy, about what it means to be a champion. And then there’s me. I don’t talk about destiny. I don’t talk about legacy. I will talk about survival. Because that’s all I’ve ever done since the day I set foot in SCW...survived.”

She took a step forward, the light catching the fire in her eyes.

“I’ve been knocked down so many times. I’ve been bloody. I’ve been told I wasn’t enough. And every single time, I’ve gotten back up. Because that’s what I do. Because that’s who I am. The Hardcore Queen of SCW. The woman who’s walked through glass, through blood, through doubt and came out the other side still swinging.”

A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“And now here we are. Semi-finals. Victoria Lyons.”

The smirk faded, replaced by something sharper, colder.

“Victoria, I’ll give you this, you’re a freakin’ machine. You ran the Bombshell Roulette Division for over a year. You made people plead for mercy, bleed, you broke spirits, and you didn’t apologize for any of it. You carried that championship like it was forged out of your own spine, and nobody...absolutely nobody... could take it from you until recently. You did more for that damn division than any of us could.”

She paused, letting the acknowledgment sink in before her tone shifted, darker now.

“But I’m not coming into this to admire your record. I’m going to make it extremely interesting. Because while you have finally started to climb that proverbial ladder....for me, this isn’t just another match. This is the line in the sand. The moment where I stop being ‘almost there’ and start being the one nobody can overlook anymore.”

She reached up, tugging at the tape around her wrists, the sound of it tearing sharp in the quiet.

“You have called yourself a Queen for over a year. In fact, you took being named Queen for a Day and you attempted to rule over the entire place like you were the fucking owner. I remember exactly what you attempted to do to Miles and Carter and you better believe I’m still fucking bitter about that. You ruled through pain, intimidation, dominance and now you’re looking across the bracket at someone who’s not afraid of any of that. I’ve fought you before, Victoria. I remember what it felt like to get hit by you, to lose to you. I remember every bruise you left, every scar that reminded me I wasn’t ready then.”

Her voice dropped, low and deliberate.

“But I’m ready now.”

The camera caught the twitch in her jaw, the defiant fire building behind her eyes.

“Because while you’ve been reminding the world who you were, I’ve been rebuilding who I am. Every loss, every bloodied match, every night I came home and had to look my daughter in the eye and tell her mommy’s okay, it’s all led to this. To you. To this moment.”

A flash of the old Bella surfaced, the defiant, sharp-edged one.

“You want to talk about pain? I’ve lived it. You want to talk about pride? I’ve bled for mine. You want to talk about fire, Victoria? I am the goddamn wildfire that doesn’t go out.”

She stepped closer to the camera, too close now, her face filling the frame, her breath fogging the lens.

“And when we walk into that ring at Climax Control, I’m not coming to survive you this time. I’m coming to beat you. To prove that the Hardcore Queen doesn’t just endure, she conquers.”

Her voice softened, but her words hit harder than any scream could have.

“You had your reign. You had your throne. But it’s my turn now. My time. And when it’s all said and done, when they raise my hand and call my name, it won’t be because I got lucky...”

A faint, dangerous smile curved across her lips.

“It’ll be because I finally became everything you warned the rest of the roster about.”

She reached forward, stopping the recording — the screen going black just as her voice whispered, almost like a promise:

“Long live the Queen.”

~*~A New Moniker ~*~
Following the VIP Lounge Match

The room still smelled like champagne and leather, the echoes of crashing furniture fading into a dull hum. Bella leaned against the railing of the VIP section, her body aching in ways only she could truly appreciate. Bruises bloomed across her arms, ribs stiff and angry, hair damp from sweat and chaos—but she was alive. She had survived. She had won.

Alexandra Calaway. Victoria Lyons. Two of the baddest, fiercest women in SCW. And she had taken them both down. Every shove, every swing, every dive and counter had been a calculated risk, a testament to every lesson her body and mind had learned over years of punishment. She flexed her fingers, knuckles raw from slamming through tables and swinging ropes like weapons.

Bella straightened, letting the crowd of crew members and onlookers sense the weight of her presence. Her chest heaved, but there was fire in her eyes, a fire, no fatigue, no bruises...yet but a shit ton of new scars that will be fun to explain to her daughter when they get home tomorrow. But no past failures could ever extinguish this.

“This,” she said, her voice low, deliberate, carrying over the scattered debris, “This is why I feel like the whispers around the backstage and after tonight, there are people that call me the Hardcore Queen of SCW.”

She let the words hang for a beat, savoring the truth in them. Not because someone had given her the title, not because it sounded good on a poster—but because she had earned it. Every ladder match, every brutal brawl, every sleepless night preparing her body for punishment and her mind for the fight—it all led here.

“Victoria. Alexandra. They have pushed me, tested me, and tried to break me. And yet I managed to walked out on top here tonight. And now I have a shot at the ONE woman in SCW that could easily give me a run for my money for that Hardcore Queen...Kayla Richards and the SCW World Bombshell Championship.”

Bella’s gaze shifted upward, imagining the road ahead. Kayla Richards. SCW World Bombshell Championship. The pinnacle of everything she had clawed for, scraped for, and bled for. She knew what was coming. She knew the pain, the exhaustion, the chaos—but it didn’t matter. She lived for it. She thrived in it.

She pressed her hands to her hips and exhaled, letting the adrenaline mix with the lingering sting of pain. “I’ve taken the baddest of the baddest tonight. Now? Tomorrow, I’ll take what’s next. I will begin to heal and I’ll take what’s next. Because being the Hardcore Queen of SCW isn’t about playing it safe. It’s about surviving hell and coming out standing, every single time and I will. I will.”

The VIP Lounge might have been chaos, might have been carnage, but it had proven something to her—and to anyone watching. Bella Madison was unbreakable. Bella Madison was ready. And Bella Madison knew the crown was within reach.


~*~The Big Two~*~
O’Connell Residence, New York

The morning light spilled across the living room floor, catching on the streamers Mal had hung the night before. The soft pastel balloons bobbed lazily against the ceiling with the faint hum of the air vent. It was too quiet for a day that promised so much noise.

Máire sat cross-legged on the rug in front of Bella, dressed in the tiny lilac dress one of Bella’s best friends Mattie Comier, had made weeks ago. Her dirty blonde curls were already a little wild despite Bella brushing them only minutes ago, a stubborn reminder that she was very much her parents’ child.

Bella sat cross-legged, too, feeling the pull in her muscles from the fight just a few nights ago. Her ribs still ached under the loose hoodie she wore, a dull throb she tried to ignore as she held up a little plush unicorn.

“Are you ready for your big day, peanut?” Bella asked, wiggling the unicorn toward her daughter.

Máire’s eyes lit up. “YES! Cake?” she asked in that sweet, confident toddler voice that made Bella want to melt right into the floor.

Bella laughed softly. “Yes, there will be cake and balloons. And Auntie Lala, Uncle Jack and of course Auntie Mattie and your grandparents. And all your cousins.” She tapped the unicorn to Máire’s knee. “But first, we have some time, just you and me.”

Máire leaned forward, climbing right into Bella’s lap with all the grace of a bowling ball. Bella winced at the pressure on her sore ribs but wrapped her arms around her daughter anyway, pressing her nose into the top of Máire’s head. The smell of toddler shampoo and faint traces of chocolate from breakfast clung to her from the chocolate chip pancakes that she begged her daddy to make that morning.

“I cannot believe how much you have grown. You’re getting so big,” Bella murmured. “Two years old. I feel like I blinked and you went from my little newborn bean to this, beautiful little whirlwind who runs everywhere.”

Máire tilted her head back, grinning. “I run fast!”

“Oh, I know. You keep daddy and I on my toes.” Bella brushed her fingers along her daughter’s cheek. “You know, Mommy had a really big match this week and she fought really hard. But this...” she squeezed Máire gently, “....this is the most important part of my week.”

Máire didn’t fully understand, but she giggled anyway, her tiny hands pressing against Bella’s cheeks before planting a wet toddler kiss right on her lips.

Bella laughed. “Okay, okay, I love you too.” She took a deep breath, letting herself hold onto that peace just a little longer. Soon the doorbell would ring. Soon the noise and laughter and inevitable chaos would fill the house. But for now, it was just the two of them.

“Just one question for ya though.” Bella said, reaching over with a grunt before holding up a golden play crown and a tiara that could easily match her daughter’s dress...and yes they are TWO different things, “Which one do you think would go better with your Auntie Mattie’s dress?”

And Bella could face anything as long as she had this moment.

----

The living room was chaotic but the good kind of chaotic that only their home could bring. The kind where laughter just ricocheted off walls and the air smelled like a sugar factory exploded. Streamers draped across every surface, rainbow balloons that were once upon a time outside, hovering at ankle level thanks to toddlers who insisted on dragging them around by their strings. The coffee table had long since been abandoned as a place for drinks and was now the central battleground for cupcakes versus tiny, frosting-coated hands.

Bella stood there in the middle of it, the ache in her ribs from the VIP Lounge Brawl a steady reminder that she had earned this hangover of exhaustion. She wasn’t just beat up, she was dragged through glass in high heels beat up...at least that’s how it felt. But she’d be damned if she’d let that stop me from giving her daughter the birthday she deserved.

“Bella, for the love of God, sit down for five minutes.” Alanah’s voice cut through the noise like a knife, equal parts concern and exasperation. She appeared at Bella’s side with a plate in one hand, a juice box in the other, and that infuriatingly perfect “mom who’s got it all together” face. Rory was dangling off her hip, chattering away about balloons.

“I’m fine,” she lied, plastering on her “don’t you dare push me” smile. “It’s her second birthday. She only gets one of these.”

Alanah gave me a look. “She’s going to have a lot of birthdays. You won’t, if you pass out in the cake.”

“I’m fine,” Bella repeated, but her voice cracked, and she could see in Alanah’s eyes she wasn’t buying a damn word.

Mal chose that moment to step in, or maybe he’d been hovering the whole damn time, waiting for backup. He had that look on his face, the one that said ‘I’m letting you have your stubborn moment, but you’re still losing this fight’. His arm slid around his wife’s waist, warm and steady, and for a second the noise of the party faded into the background.

“Lanah’s right, love,” he said in that low, measured way that never failed to hit me square in the chest. “You’ve been running on fumes since the match. Let us take over.”

You could tell that Bella wanted to argue, but his thumb brushed over her side exactly where she’d taken a nasty hit during the match, and she audibly sucked in a breath. ‘Damn him for knowing exactly where my weak spots were — physical and emotional.’ was the thought that easily passed her mind.

Bella had been in rough shape before, but this was a different kind of exhaustion. It wasn’t the bone-deep ache from training, or the kind of pain that faded with a good night’s sleep. This was the aftermath of war, the sting of glass cuts hidden under sleeves, the dull throb in her ribs every time she laughed, the heat of bruises just starting to bloom under her skin. Winning the VIP Lounge Brawl had been worth every second, but now she was paying the toll in full.

A giant “2” balloon floated lazily above the crowd, and the birthday girl herself was in the middle of it all, squealing with delight as she tore at the wrapping paper of yet another gift.

Her cousins were a blur of movement, Patrick and Elise racing around with plastic party hats bouncing on their heads. Bella's half-brother Aaron, now six and apparently self-appointed “birthday police,” was guarding the cake like it was a priceless artifact, warning the younger kids not to “accidentally” stick a finger in the frosting.

Before she could answer, a squeal of pure joy tore through the room.

“Mommy!”

Máire barreled toward her, curls bouncing, and apparently with candy smeared across her cheek like war paint. She had a pink balloon in one hand and one of the twins’ party hats in the other. She stopped just short of crashing into me and held up the balloon like she was presenting treasure.

“Mine,” she declared proudly.

Bella crouched down slowly, carefully, her ribs protesting the entire way and took her sticky little hands in her own, “Yours, huh? What about the cake? Did you save enough room for it?”

She nodded, her grin wide enough to melt the bruises right off even the Grinch's soul. “YES! And I wanna give you the blue one.”

“The blue one,” Bella echoed. “Best piece in the whole cake. You’re too good to me.”

She leaned forward and pressed a sugary -sweet kiss to her cheek, and for a second Bella forgot about Victoria, Alexandra, the bruises, the aches, the pressure of what comes next. This right here, with balloons and frosting and chaos was the reason she could walk through hell and still keep going.

Alanah caught my eye over Máire’s shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Mal’s hand stayed firm on my back. And somewhere in the middle of all that noise and mess, Bella realized they were both right. She didn’t have to hold the whole party up by herself. She could let them help, and the world wouldn’t fall apart.

Not today, anyway.


~*~It’s Your Shot, Kid~*~

The house was full of the noise of sugared up kids and adults trying to wrangle them, but Bella slipped out through the back, letting the air hit her sore skin. She tugged her hoodie tighter across her shoulders, not ready to admit how much her ribs still ached. She needed a breath, just one moment to herself before someone else asked for cake, a diaper change, or her attention.

The barn doors were already rolled open, light cutting through in angled shafts. The familiar smell of chalk dust, old sweat, and wood polish hit her nose. Her safe place. Her grind space.

And there, standing in the middle of the matted floor like she belonged to it, was her mother.

Laura Phoenix wasn’t moving, not stretching, not checking the equipment, not barking out orders like she does when she's running one of her sessions. Just standing, arms folded, head tilted, watching the ropes, the pull-up bars, the warped wall from the ninja warrior setup. That sharp, assessing look hadn’t dulled one bit with time.

Bella swallowed, then cleared her throat. “If you’re thinking of running the course, I should probably get the camera ready. You’d break the internet, Mom.”

Laura turned, slow and deliberate, one eyebrow raised. “Funny. You sound like someone who’s avoiding something.”

Bella smirked, or tried to. “What, I can’t check in on my own barn? Last I checked, you don’t live here.”

Her mother’s lips twitched. “Last I checked, you don’t usually limp out here unless something’s gnawing at you.” She stepped closer, eyes flicking over Bella’s stance, her shoulders, the way she was favoring her side. “You’re hurting.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bella muttered, rubbing at her ribs. “VIP Lounge Brawl wasn’t exactly a spa day. But I’m fine. I’ve got ice packs, painkillers, Mal’s on me about resting, and I survived. That’s all that matters.”

Laura’s expression softened, just a fraction. “It’s not just surviving, Bella. You won. You proved you could take Victoria and Alexandra down in the same night. That’s not small.”

Bella exhaled, her gaze dropping to the scuffed mat beneath her feet. “Yeah, but now it’s Kayla. Kayla Richards. World title. Main event. In Greece. Like I needed more pressure.”

There was silence for a beat, just the hum of the barn lights and the faint echo of kids’ laughter drifting from the house. Then Laura spoke, voice lower, steadier.

“You think I don’t know what this feels like? I’ve been there. The title shot after clawing through hell. The body screaming at you to stop while your head tells you you can’t. And you know what? That’s when you find out who you are.”

Bella looked up, caught by the weight in her mother’s eyes. Laura wasn’t just giving advice, she was handing over a piece of herself.

“You’ve got absolutely nothing to lose, kid,” Laura said, stepping close enough to squeeze Bella’s shoulder. “And that’s dangerous. That makes you unpredictable. It makes you hungry. Kayla, for all of her swagger, she won’t see that coming.”

Bella let the words sink in. For once, she didn’t try to deflect with sarcasm or sass. She just nodded. “I just don’t want to screw it up. Not after everything. Not with Máire watching me now.”

Laura’s hand stayed firm on her shoulder. “Then don’t. Fight smart. Fight like her mom would. And remember, no matter what happens out there, you’ve already given her something I never thought I could give you, stability. Love. A family that’s whole. The belt is just icing.”

Bella blinked hard, her throat tight. She hated when her mom got like this, because it cracked her armor clean open. But maybe she needed it.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Laura gave her one of those rare, proud smiles that Bella lived for. “Now come on. Let’s get back before the kids eat all the cake without us.”


~*~Rules of Engagement: Sometimes You Gotta Let Them See You Bleed~*~

The dull ache in her ribs had dulled to a throb, and the bruising on her shoulder had faded from black to sickly yellow. Not healed, but manageable. Manageable was enough at the moment and it gave her hope for just a few days away that she’d be close enough to 100%.

Bella stood in front of the mirror in the barn, hair pulled back tight, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead after another round of cardio. The music had cut off minutes ago, but she hadn’t bothered to restart it. She could hear her own breathing. She could hear her thoughts.

‘Kayla Richards.’

Even saying the name under her breath made her chest tighten. Not fear. Not intimidation. It was something sharper, like a blade being pulled from its sheath.

Kayla was the standard when it came to SCW in its present day. The top of the mountain in the Bombshell division and there was no one fucking higher. The champion who made people believe the division revolved around her. She didn’t just defend the belt she made damn sure you remembered why she held it. Bella knew she wasn’t walking into Greece to face a pretender, she would be a fool if she thought otherwise. She was walking into the ring with someone who thrived on making people like her look foolish.

Bella leaned closer to the mirror, almost nose to glass. “You wanted this. You fought your ass off for this. You asked for it. Don’t start second-guessing now.”

She could still hear her mom’s words from a couple nights ago, about how she had nothing to lose. About how that made her dangerous. Bella rolled those words over and over in her head like prayer beads.

She tugged her hoodie over her shoulders and moved toward the ropes. Her fingers traced the coarse fibers, imagining them wrapped around her arms in Greece, holding her steady, reminding her where she was. She pictured Kayla across from her, sharp smile, cruel eyes that sometimes would show just that tad bit of pity before she'd lay you out for thinking she was weak, that swagger that came with knowing she was the measuring stick.

And Bella let herself imagine it. Imagine the clash. The noise. The moment when all of Kayla’s arrogance turned to shock because she realized Bella wasn’t just another challenger.

For the first time since the chaos of the VIP Lounge brawl, Bella let herself smile. It wasn’t wide. It wasn’t bright. But it was sharp.

She was getting better every day. And by the time they left for Greece, she was going to be ready.

“I’m not stupid. I know what Kayla Richards is. She’s the bar, the top, the kind of champion people put in history books. Every defense, every time she walks out with that belt, she reminds the entire division that she doesn’t just hold it, she owns it. And most of the women who’ve gone up against her? They haven’t even come close.

But here’s the thing, the higher you sit on that throne, the heavier the weight becomes. And Kayla’s been sitting up there so long, so secure, she thinks nobody’s patient enough, hungry enough, smart enough to pull her down.

That’s where I come in.

I’ve been patient. I’ve done it the right way since I came back. A year and a half ago, when I got back from having my child, I didn’t try to skip lines. I didn’t demand things I didn’t earn. I put in the work, I bled, I fought, I climbed rung by rung until nobody could deny me anymore. Since then I have found my first singles gold run in SCW.

And that patience? That’s my weapon. Because Kayla doesn’t see it coming. She’s too used to women rushing her, desperate for a moment, burning out before they even touch her.

Not me.

I’ve waited. I’ve watched. And I know....I know that Kayla Richards needs a challenge. Not just another body for her highlight reel. Not another empty defense that keeps her crown polished. She needs someone who can push her. Someone who can threaten everything she’s built and make her feel that sick twist in her stomach that maybe, just maybe, this is the night she loses it all.

And as sore as my body is right now, as much as every muscle aches, there isn’t a single fucking doubt in my mind that I can be the one to do it.

I can take that Bombshell World Championship.

No, scratch that. I will take it. And when I do, it won’t just be an upset. It won’t just be a shock. It’ll be proof that the patience, the grind, the sweat, the waiting, it all meant something. It’ll be proof that Kayla Richards isn’t untouchable.

She’s just been waiting for someone like me.”