Chapter 82: Open Doors

Colorado springs felt different than Denver.

Denver had noise. Movement. Edges. It felt transitional. Like a place you passed through on the way to something else. Colorado Springs, where Finn and I had built our home—felt settled. Quieter. The mountains didn’t loom here the way they did in postcards. They just existed. Steady. Ancient. Unbothered by human drama. The kind of presence that made your problems feel smaller if you let them. Snow still clung to the edges of the yard in stubborn patches, melting slowly where the sun reached it and refusing to budge where it didn’t. The sky was clearer today. Pale blue stretched thin above the peaks, the air crisp but not cruel. Inside, the house was warm. Our home. I still caught myself thinking that like it was fragile. Like if I said it too confidently, something might come along and take it from me.

I was sitting on the lounge, legs tucked beneath me, a thick blanket draped across my lap. The television was on but muted. Some daytime show flickering light across the walls without meaning. The quiet in the house wasn’t heavy. It was comfortable. Finn was at training. I had the day off. The kind of rare afternoon where nothing demanded anything from me. That should have felt peaceful. Instead, my mind kept replaying the last conversation at the restaurant. The question. Children.

Do you want them?

I stared at the window, watching condensation gather at the corners of the glass. I hadn’t expected that question to stay with me the way it had. I hadn’t expected it to settle into my chest and refuse to leave. The knock at the door pulled me from it.

Not loud. Not impatient. Just three steady raps. I blinked, then pushed the blanket aside and stood. When I opened the door, the cold air slipped in first, brushing against my skin. And then Tasmin stepped into view. She looked like me in ways that used to make people do double-takes. Pale skin. Green eyes. Tattoos curling down her arms like inked stories that didn’t need to be explained. But where my hair fell dark and sharp around my shoulders, hers cascaded in long, flowing blonde waves, catching the light even on a winter afternoon. Softer. Brighter. The kind of hair that looked like summer had claimed it permanently. “Hey,” she said, offering a small smile.

“Hey.”

There was no hesitation. No awkwardness. I stepped aside and let her in. She carried the outside in with her, the scent of cold air and faint perfume. I shut the door behind her and locked it automatically. “It’s freezing,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together.

“You live here to,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to like it.”

That earned the faintest huff of amusement from me. “Tea?”

“Please.” Some things were muscle memory. When words felt unnecessary, routine filled the gaps. I moved into the kitchen, filling the kettle, clicking it on. Tasmin leaned against the counter, watching me the way siblings do, like they’re cataloguing changes without meaning to. We’d both grown up in the same house. But somehow we’d grown into different versions of survival. She’d chosen openness faster than I had. Or maybe she’d just been braver. The kettle clicked off. I poured the water, dropped the tea bags in, handed her a mug. Chamomile for her. Peppermint for me. The steam curled between us as we moved back into the lounge and sat down. She tucked one leg beneath her. I mirrored her without thinking. For a while, we didn’t talk. We just sipped. The quiet between sisters wasn’t the same as the quiet between strangers. It didn’t demand to be filled. It just existed. Tasmin broke it first. “Adam says hi,” she offered casually.

I nodded. “How is he?”

“Good. Busy. Work’s insane, but he’s good.” She paused, then added with a small grin, “Dawn’s decided she hates vegetables.”

I snorted softly. “She’s three.”

“Exactly. Everything is dramatic.” I could picture it. Dawn’s stubborn little face. The way she crossed her arms like she’d already mastered defiance.

“And you?”

Tasmin shrugged lightly. “I’m good.” But there was something behind it. Something she was building up to. I waited. She took another sip of tea, eyes lowering to the mug. “Dad’s been coming over,” she said finally. There it was. I didn’t react outwardly. Didn’t tense. Didn’t sigh. But something inside me sharpened.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Once a week. Sometimes more.” I stayed quiet. “He plays with Dawn,” she continued. “Like actually plays. Gets on the floor. Lets her climb on him. She calls him ‘Pop.’” The word lodged somewhere in my throat.

Pop.

“He brings her little things,” Tasmin went on. “Nothing crazy. Books. Stickers. Stuffed animals. He sits with Adam and talks about work. Or football. Or whatever.” Her lips curved slightly. “Adam actually likes him.” That surprised me more than anything else she’d said.

“He does?” I don’t know why I was shocked or surprised, Adam likes everybody.

“Yeah. Says he’s… different than he expected.” Different. I stared into my tea, watching the steam thin out. Tasmin shifted slightly, studying me now. “He’s been consistent,” she added gently. “That’s the weird part.”

Consistency.

That word again. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust my voice yet. She kept going. “I didn’t think I’d let him around Dawn. Not at first. I was angry. I was protective.” She smiled faintly. “Still am.” I understood that instinct more than she probably realized. “But he’s been good with her, He listens. He doesn’t overstep. He asks before he does anything. He respects Adam.” She paused. “And he shows up.” That one hit harder than the rest. I swallowed slowly. My mind betrayed me, offering flashes I hadn’t asked for. Empty seats at school events. Missed birthdays. Promises that evaporated into excuses. But then it layered over something newer. Garlic sliding across a table.

Do you want children?

“He’s been coming to see Amber too,” Tasmin added. “She told me he’s been helping her with some stuff around the house.” I nodded once. Both of them had opened their doors wider. I was still standing in mine, hand on the frame, unsure how far to swing it. Tasmin set her mug down on the coffee table. The ceramic clinked softly against wood. “I’m not telling you this to pressure you,” she said carefully.

I looked at her then. Her green eyes were softer than mine. Warmer. But there was steel in them too. We’d both inherited that. “I know,” I replied quietly.

“I just…” She hesitated. “I wanted you to know what it’s been like for me.”

“And?”

“And it’s not perfect,” she admitted. “It’s awkward sometimes. There’s history. But…” She exhaled slowly. “It doesn’t feel fake.”

That word mattered. Fake was worse than absence. I leaned back into the couch, folding my arms loosely, not defensively, just to hold myself steady.  “I’m glad,” I said, and I meant it.

She studied me for another moment before asking the question she’d clearly been circling. “How are things going between you and him?”

There it was. I considered lying. Not a big lie. Just something easy. Neutral. Like We’re fine. But I was tired of easy. “It’s… better,” I admitted. Tasmin waited. “We’ve been meeting. Talking.”

“About?”

“Everything. Nothing.” I gave a small, humorless smile. “The past. Work. Finn.” Her eyes flickered at Finn’s name but she didn’t comment. “He’s trying,” I added. Tasmin nodded slowly, like that confirmed something she already suspected. I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees, fingers lacing together. “Last time we talked…” I hesitated. The words felt strange in my mouth. “He brought up children.”

Tasmin’s eyebrows lifted just a fraction. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I huffed a quiet breath. “It caught me off guard.”

“I can imagine.”

I stared at the floor for a second before looking back up. “But I didn’t shut it down,”

That felt important. Tasmin’s expression shifted, subtle pride, maybe. “What did you say?” she asked gently.

“I told him I didn’t want kids before, That I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

I held her gaze. “Becoming him.” Silence settled between us.

Not sharp. Not explosive. Just real. Tasmin didn’t flinch. She didn’t rush to defend him. She just absorbed it. “That makes sense,” she said softly.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone to say that. “But…” I continued, voice quieter now. “I told him that after Finn… something shifted.”

Her eyes warmed immediately. “You can see it,”

I nodded once. “I can picture it. A house. Noise. Chaos. Him holding a baby like he’s terrified he’ll break it.” A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself.

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

“It does, Just not in the same way.”

The fear wasn’t about repeating history anymore. It was about vulnerability. About loving something so much it could destroy you if it disappeared. Tasmin leaned back slightly, processing. “That’s normal, You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

“I know.”

The air shifted again. Not tense. Just… thoughtful. Tasmin glanced toward the window, then back at me. “For what it’s worth, you wouldn’t be him.” I didn’t respond immediately. “You’re not wired that way, You overthink everything. You question yourself constantly. You care too much.” A soft, almost sad smile touched her mouth.

“He didn’t.” The words settled heavy but steady. I looked down at my hands again. Maybe she was right. Maybe awareness alone changed things. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Just full. Tasmin didn’t push further. Didn’t ask if Finn and I were trying. Didn’t pry into timelines or expectations. She let it breathe. After a while, she reached for her tea again, now lukewarm, and took a small sip anyway.

“You’ll figure it out,” I nodded. Outside, a breeze kicked up, rattling the bare branches of the tree near the driveway. The house remained warm. Still. Open doors didn’t have to mean wide open. Maybe they just meant unlocked. I glanced around the lounge, the framed photos on the wall, the blanket still crumpled beside me, the quiet evidence of a life being built piece by piece. Tasmin followed my gaze. “You’ve built something good here,”

I looked back at her. “Yeah,” I replied, and for once, the word didn’t feel fragile. It felt true. We sat there a while longer, talking about smaller things after that. Dawn’s latest obsession with dinosaurs. Amber’s new job. Adam’s attempt at cooking that had nearly set off the smoke alarm. Normal things. Little things. And as the afternoon light shifted across the room, I realized something quietly unsettling. For the first time in a long time… The idea of family didn’t feel like a threat. It felt like possibility.

The Trilogy

”Everything is right with the world. Back where it needs to be. Shifted to a time that matters. Or at least it almost has.”

Kayla chuckles and shakes her head. Her English accent a contrast to the American ones that we are used to hearing. But it’s a familiar one. Not so familiar to the people of Fort Worth, Texas, where the supercard is going to be from. But here she is, sitting in a hotel room to acclimatise and get used to the way Texas feels.

”There was a divergent point. A point where if things had been slightly different all of this could have been avoided. See, I told everyone that Crystal did not deserve to hold the SCW World Bombshells Championship. And I stand by that. I told that to her face and I will continue saying it time and time again. Her time is done. So is Mercedes Vargas’ time. They both wanted something out of their partnership. Crystal wanted to feel like she belonged. She walked away from her family, her wife, to throw in with Mercedes. And Mercedes wanted that title opportunity. She had a grand vision after Crystal took the championship from Frankie. One way they would both keep that championship. They would keep it in Crystal’s hands. That was the plan. You can’t tell me otherwise.”

“Crystal needed someone like Mercedes on her side. She needed Mercedes to keep this championship. I have never needed anyone to help me keep a championship. I have never needed anybody to have my back in a championship match. I have been the one to keep it around my waist or over my shoulder. I have been the one to step up and show the world just how good I am.”

“But, Crystal CaldwellzdunichRoseMillarWilliams was never that bitch…”

“Not like me…

“I am the one running all of this shit. I’m the one who is keeping the fucking lights on. I hold this championship and it means something. Others will come in and beat me for it and then I will have to rescue it. I had to rescue this championship from Andrea Hernandez. I had to rescue it from Juliana de Maria. And now I’ve had to rescue it from not just Crystal but also Mercedes. I just want to remind you all that this championship, a championship that is around the waist of the best female wrestler on the planet, was defended in a tag team match. Two old decrepit bitches defended the championship against two women who should not have gotten near it.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs the championship belt. She holds it in her right hand looking down at it, her eyes tracing over the centre plate, over the SCW logo and down to her name.

”And the saddest part about all of this is that you all thought I was done. You all thought that I had been ended. That Frankie Holiday had taken my championship and started a whole new dynasty for herself. The rookie who in her first year had been able to win the Blast from the Past, but then also beat me for the SCW Bombshells Championship. A woman who had one of the greats as her mentor. A woman who was going to go on and become the best of the best and have the kind of career that everyone could only dream of. That’s what you all thought, isn’t it? That’s what you all thought. Amazing. Legitimately amazing that you all thought that was what was going to happen. But what happened?”

“Where was this great run, hmm?”

“Before I talk about my opponent’s failures let me remind you all of something. When I first came into this company I was looked at as a nobody. It’s true, I was. All I kept hearing was that I would end up getting my shot. I had an opportunity in my first match. I won. I won my second match. Then nothing. Nothing. I want you all to sit back and realise how incredibly stupid that was. I won my first matches and then I sat in catering for months. And as much as you all think I’m some kind of bitch that will just go and speak her mind, I was giving SCW an opportunity. An opportunity to give me the chances that I had earned. And they didn’t. So what is a girl to do when she’s being ignored by her bosses? Well, it was very simple.”

“I kicked Mark Ward’s door down and I demanded that I get a match.”

“I was the redheaded stepchild that nobody wanted. And after they couldn’t ignore me anymore I started getting my matches. I started destroying everyone they put me in the ring with. I won Internet Championships, three of them. I won two Mixed Tag Team Championships and now I am a three-time World Bombshells Champion. You can count my losses without using all of your fingers. My singles losses are even fewer. But, even though I absolutely dominated this company with Finn by my side, we were overlooked for things like Couple of the Year. I was overlooked for Woman of the Year last year as Victoria Lyons got it. And then at the same show, High Stakes, Frankie lost the championship to Crystal. I had to watch her lose the championship to that woman while I wasn’t even on the show. Yeah, apparently Justin Smith was good enough to get a match but I wasn’t. Imagine that. Candy was on the show and I wasn’t.”

Her voice is filled with venom and anger, her eyes burn too. The emerald green looking like green fire as her hands clap together as she leans forward.

”But now, I’m the champion again, Frankie. All is almost right with the world. And this match was always going to happen. If you had your opportunity first, I have a feeling that you would have avenged your loss to Crystal and then you would be the one going into this match as champion. But I was the one who got my match first. So I ended her reign. I was the one who took this title back. And from that moment I knew that you and I were going to end up facing each other. I told Mercedes Vargas that I was going to give her some time to surrender the championship to me but she ended up doing it later that night because she knew damn well that I was going to end her if she didn’t give me the championship.”

“So, at Blaze of Glory you and I are going to meet again. And it’s funny because I look at how this match is being framed, even by the company. And my stomach starts to churn and gargle and I start to feel angry, anxious even.”

“See, they are talking about this as if I’m trying to simply avenge something. This company is talking about you beating me like it was some kind of foregone conclusion. You beat me at Violent Conduct. That is where you ended my championship reign. This is true, it’s a matter of fact. But what people seem to forget is that on the cruise ship at Summer XXXTreme I beat you. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? You wouldn’t know that by any of the marketing that has been released before this show. In fact the official website makes it sound like you faced me once and it was done. You dethroned me, you took my championship and it somehow exposed me.”

“I’m not even making that up. It says it exposed a crack in the myth of who I am. It’s amazing how people tend to forget.”

“See, this match is the end of a trilogy. I beat you, you won the Blast from the Past and you came back and beat me. Now I’ve been able to beat the crap out of the woman who took the championship from you and you have your chance at it going against me. Three matches, three supercards. You and I seem destined to do this, Frankie. But instead of the company leaning into the fact that this is a trilogy, instead of the company building this up as an epic showdown between two women who have been able to go on an absolute tear through the entire division and are now looking at settling it for the third time, all of the marketing, all of the hype, everything is built around the fact that you beat me once. Built around the fact that you took that championship from me and then before I could have my rematch against you, you went and lost it to fucking Crystal fucking Caldwell.”

“I can handle you beating me. I can handle you taking that championship from me. But what I can’t handle, Frankie, is you disappointing me.”

Kayla takes a deep breath and sits back, the venom from her voice changing. She looks and sounds like she is legitimately disappointed. Her shoulders slumping down as her body language changes.

”You were supposed to be my successor. Not just my successor but also your mentor’s successor. You were supposed to be the next big thing, the next woman that was going to rule this division with an iron fist. That’s what you were supposed to do. For over a year, over two separate championship runs, I held this company’s women’s division up over my head. I carried it on my back, and I did so with a smile on my face. People can think everything negative they want to about me, but at the end of the day I love this business, I love this championship and I love this company and I have done everything I can to make sure that this company and this division reached heights and success that it had never seen before.”

“And I was tired. I was exhausted. Defending the Mixed Tag Team Championships as well as the Bombshells Championship was wearing me down. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I was beaten down and I was beaten up and when you beat me a weight lifted off of my shoulders. I felt like I was going to be able to breathe again. To step back and let you take that torch and lead the division into the future.”

“But now? Well Frankie, I’m not tired anymore. Now I’m angry. I’m angry because you failed. I’m angry because after you lost to me you then lost to Kate Steele, you picked yourself up, you won the Blast from the Past and got another opportunity at me. You were able to beat me and then you let it all fall apart. You let Crystal beat you and now here you are stepping in front of me to get your championship opportunity when you should’ve never gotten one in the first place. The reason why I have a championship opportunity against Crystal is because I had earned it through my last run. I held it for over 160 days and I defended it against anyone they put me in the ring with. Remind me again, how long did you hold that championship? Less than two months?”

“What a joke…”

“But I can’t help but wonder where you are going to go. Are you going to own up to your failures or are you going to use the “I’m still just a rookie” line that you have used time and time again to explain away your failures? When are you going to step up and try and be the champion that we all thought you were going to be? Because you look at our track records, you look at what I’ve been able to accomplish and what you’ve been able to accomplish and it’s not even close. 51 wins, eight losses, think about that. Think about the monumental effort that I’ve had to go through to win all of those matches and be the champion that this company and this division deserved.”

“And now think about what you failed with. How you dropped the ball.”

“Take all of that anger that I have, all of that frustration in not only watching you fail but also knowing that I could’ve prevented it if I had just beaten you at Violent Conduct. Then throw in the fact that this company seems to refuse to acknowledge that I already beat you and that you beating me means that you are holding it over my head and that you are somehow in there stopping me from going forward. That is frustrating, that is annoying. I know what it takes to beat you, Frankie. I could’ve taken my opportunity at that championship the first time. I could’ve taken it right there and then and snatched that championship back off of you after Violent Conduct because now I see that you weren’t ready….”

“And you still aren’t. So at Blaze of Glory I’m gonna take all that responsibility that you dropped the first time and I’m going to take it off your shoulders. Because you don’t deserve the pressure of being a champion. You haven’t earned it, so I’m going to end you.”

Chapter 80: White Noise

Snow fell the way silence falls.

Not violently. Not dramatically. Just steadily, patiently, like the sky had all the time in the world and nothing better to do than cover Denver in a thin layer of softness. It didn’t erase anything. It didn’t clean anything. It just muted the edges. Everything looked calmer than it actually was. That was the lie of winter. The lie of snow. You could stand in the middle of it and feel like the world had slowed down enough to let you breathe. Like everything was quiet enough for healing to happen. But underneath, the ground was still hard. Frozen. Unforgiving. It just wore a prettier mask. I watched the snowflakes hit the windshield and melt into nothing. Proof of life. Proof of disappearance. The way something could exist and then vanish without leaving a trace. It felt familiar.

Finn’s car was warm, heat blowing softly through the vents, the kind of warmth that made you forget how cold you were until you stepped back outside. The windows fogged at the edges, blurring the world like a half-finished thought. The café was across the road, its lights glowing faintly through the snowfall, a little rectangle of yellow comfort in the gray. I didn’t move. Finn didn’t rush me. He sat in the driver’s seat with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. No tension. No impatience. He didn’t look like a man waiting for something to happen. He looked like a man who understood that sometimes you didn’t need someone to solve you. You just needed someone to stay present while you tried to solve yourself. The radio was off. He knew better than to fill the air with noise. “Do you want me to come in?” his voice low, careful. Not hesitant. Just respectful.

“No.”

“Okay.”

No disappointment. No wounded ego. No sulking. That was Finn. He didn’t demand to be included to prove he mattered. He already knew he mattered. He didn’t need to stake a claim on my life like territory. I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fog the air for a moment before the heater swallowed it. “It’s weird,” I said, the words tasting strange even before they left my mouth. “That I’m doing this.”

Finn glanced at me briefly. “Meeting your dad?”

“Yes.” I paused. “Talking to him like… like he’s a person.”

Finn’s jaw tightened slightly, not in anger, but in that familiar protective instinct he tried so hard not to weaponize. “Your dad is a person. That doesn’t mean he deserves access to you.”

I looked at him then. “That’s what scares me. That I’m going to start confusing those things.”

Finn’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes softened. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

He shrugged slightly. “No. I don’t. But I know you.”

That was the difference. He didn’t speak in absolutes about the world. He spoke in certainty about me. It made my chest tighten in a way that wasn’t painful, just… heavy. Like love had weight and I wasn’t used to carrying it without flinching. I leaned my head back against the seat, letting my eyes close for a moment. “This is the fourth week,”

Finn hummed. “Mm.”

“And it’s still not easier.”

Finn’s voice was blunt, but not unkind. “Why would it be?”

I opened my eyes again, narrowing them slightly. “You always answer questions like that. Like the obvious thing is obvious.”

He smirked faintly. “Because it usually is.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re infuriating.”

“I know.” That made me laugh, just barely. A short breath of amusement that felt like it didn’t belong in the same space as my father. But Finn had always been good at that, reminding me that my life wasn’t only built out of trauma. That I didn’t have to live in the past just because it still lived in me. I looked out the windshield again. The café was closer than it looked, but still far enough to feel like a decision. Finn followed my gaze. “Do you feel guilty?”

The question landed sharper than it should have. Like he’d reached into the fog and pulled out something I didn’t want to name. I didn’t answer right away. Finn didn’t push. That was his version of patience. He would ask the hard thing once, then leave it on the table like a knife you could choose to pick up or not. “I don’t know, Sometimes. I think I feel guilty for not wanting him. Like… like that makes me cruel.”

Finn’s face tightened again. “It doesn’t.”

“I know.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “But knowing doesn’t stop it.”

Finn nodded slowly. “No. It doesn’t.”

I swallowed, fingers curling around the strap of my bag. My nails pressed into the leather, grounding me. “He looks different,” I admitted. “Not like before. He looks… tired.” Finn’s eyes stayed forward, but I could feel him listening. “And part of me hates that. Because it makes me want to soften. It makes me want to pretend that the past wasn’t as bad as it was.”

Finn’s tone was calm. “That’s empathy. It’s not weakness.”

I turned toward him. “Empathy got me hurt a lot.”

Finn met my eyes. “Empathy got you through a lot, too. You survived because you could read people. You could sense danger before it happened. You could adapt.” I didn’t respond. He wasn’t wrong. And that was irritating. Finn’s voice dropped slightly, more serious. “You’re allowed to be compassionate and still have boundaries. You’re allowed to care about someone and still not let them close enough to damage you.”

I stared at him. “How do you make it sound so simple?”

Finn’s mouth twitched. “Because it is simple.”

I groaned softly. “There it is again.”

He shrugged. “It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

That distinction mattered more than he probably realized. I watched the snow again. It fell in lazy spirals, drifting sideways in the wind, clinging to the edges of parked cars like a quiet invasion. “I’m scared,” I admitted.

Finn’s voice was immediate. “Of what?”

I hesitated. The answer wasn’t pretty. “That I’m going to let him in. And then one day he’s going to do what he always did. Leave. Disappear. Or say something that reminds me who he really is. And I’m going to feel like an idiot for believing in him.”

Finn didn’t flinch. “That’s possible.”

I blinked, looking at him sharply.“That’s not comforting.”

Finn’s tone stayed steady. “I’m not going to lie to you to make you feel better.” That was Finn too. No false reassurance. No sugarcoating. No cheap comfort. “If he hurts you again, it won’t make you an idiot. It’ll make him a coward. And you’ll still be the same woman who survived him the first time.” The words hit me harder than I expected. Because Finn wasn’t telling me my father wouldn’t hurt me. He was telling me I would survive if he did. And for some reason, that felt safer than hope. My throat tightened. Finn reached over then, not grabbing my hand, just placing his fingers lightly against my knee. A small gesture. Grounding. Present. “I don’t want to tell you what to do. But I’ll say this. If meeting him is something you’re doing because you need it, then keep doing it. If meeting him is something you’re doing because you think you owe him something, then stop.”

My eyes stung, and I hated that. “I don’t know which one it is.”

Finn nodded slowly. “Then that’s what you’re figuring out.”

Silence filled the car again. Not awkward. Not empty. Just… real. Outside, the snow kept falling. The café waited like a witness. I took a deep breath, forcing air into my lungs like it was a choice. “I hate that he gets to exist again. After all these years. Like he just… shows up. Like he’s entitled to a second chance.”

Finn’s voice was low. “He’s not entitled to anything. But you’re entitled to closure. You’re entitled to answers. You’re entitled to see if he’s changed. Not for him. For you.” I swallowed hard. Finn’s hand squeezed my knee gently, then withdrew. “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

Finn’s mouth curved faintly. “Go kick his ass emotionally.” That startled a laugh out of me, real this time. Short, sharp, almost disbelieving. Finn grinned. “What? You do it well.”

I shook my head, wiping at my eye with the back of my hand before I could stop myself. “Asshole,” I muttered.

“Your asshole,” he corrected.

I paused, then smirked. “Unfortunately.”

Finn leaned back in his seat, satisfied. “You’ll be fine.” I stared at the café again. The door was a dark rectangle under a small awning dusted with snow. Warmth inside. Conversation. Uncertainty. Finn didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. I opened the car door. The cold hit me instantly, biting at my cheeks, slipping down my collar like a punishment. The snow crunched under my boots as I stepped out, the air sharp enough to make my lungs protest. Finn stayed in the car, engine running, watching me through the windshield. I shut the door and stood for a moment, letting the winter settle into my bones. Then I crossed the road.

Cars passed slowly, tires hissing against slush. The world smelled like wet pavement and exhaust and cold metal. The snowflakes landed in my hair and melted against my scalp. I pushed open the café door. Warmth wrapped around me immediately, thick with the smell of coffee and baked sugar. The air was loud with soft chatter, cups clinking, the espresso machine steaming like an impatient animal. He was already there. Of course he was. Same table near the window, same posture, hands folded, shoulders slightly hunched as if he didn’t want to take up too much space. He looked up the second I walked in, like he’d been watching the door the whole time. He stood quickly. “Kayla.”

I nodded once. “Hi.” I didn’t hug him. I still wasn’t there.

I shrugged off my coat and sat down, placing my bag at my feet again. Same ritual. Same anchor. Same unspoken reminder: I can leave whenever I want. He sat down across from me, careful, quiet. The waitress came by, smiling politely. I ordered coffee. Black. Again. My father ordered the same as last time. No sugar. No cream. It struck me then that he wasn’t trying to make this easier with familiarity. He wasn’t ordering something indulgent or distracting. He was treating it like a meeting. Like a court date. When the waitress left, silence settled between us. He didn’t rush to fill it. That was new. “How are you?” he asked eventually. The question was so normal it almost felt insulting. But I knew he didn’t mean it casually. He meant it like a man who had missed years of my life and didn’t know where to begin.

“I’m fine,”

He nodded, as if expecting that answer. “How’s work?”

“Fine.”

Another nod. I watched his face carefully. He didn’t look frustrated. He didn’t look offended. He looked like he understood that I was giving him exactly what I was willing to give. And that scared me more than anger would have. Because anger was predictable. This was not. Outside the window, the snow had thickened. People walked past bundled in coats, heads down, moving like shadows through white noise. He glanced out the window briefly. “Still snowing,”

“Yeah,”

Silence again. Then he cleared his throat, hesitant. “I saw you weren’t alone.”

My fingers tightened around the coffee cup as it arrived, heat seeping into my skin. I didn’t look up immediately. I already knew what he meant. I already knew who he meant. Finn was still in the car across the street, parked where the café window gave a clear view. Not hovering. Not spying. Just… there. Like a safety net. I met my father’s eyes. “You saw Finn.”

He nodded. “I did.” I waited, bracing for the judgment. For the comment. For the implication. Instead, he just said quietly, “He looks like he cares about you.”

That caught me off guard. My instincts twitched, searching for the trap. The manipulation. The angle. But his expression stayed steady. “I’m engaged to him,”  my voice was colder than necessary.

He didn’t flinch. “I know.”

Of course he knew. Amber probably told him. Tasmin too. Maybe Jax. Maybe everyone in my life had been slowly feeding him pieces of me like crumbs, testing whether he’d choke. My jaw tightened. “Then why ask?”

He hesitated, then looked down at his hands. “Because I don’t know him. And I don’t know what kind of man you’ve chosen. I don’t know what your life looks like now.”

I studied him. The honesty was… uncomfortable. Most men didn’t admit they didn’t know. They pretended they did. They filled the gaps with assumptions and entitlement. He wasn’t doing that. He was sitting there with the emptiness of his absence laid out between us like an open wound. “I don’t want you interrogating me,”

He nodded quickly. “I’m not trying to. I’m sorry.”

The apology didn’t sound rehearsed. It sounded tired. I took a slow sip of coffee, letting the bitterness steady me. “He’s not like you,”

The words came out harsher than I intended. My father’s face tightened, just slightly, like the truth had found a nerve. “I’m glad,”

That should have made me feel victorious. Instead it made me feel… sad. Because he agreed. Because he didn’t defend himself. Because part of me wanted him to argue so I could justify hating him again. I swallowed. Finn wasn’t like him. Finn didn’t drink to disappear. Finn didn’t raise his voice to feel powerful. Finn didn’t punish me for having needs. Finn didn’t treat love like a weapon. Finn was steady in ways I used to think were boring. But boring was what safety looked like. Boring was what peace looked like. “He’s Irish,” I said after a pause, as if that was a safe detail. A harmless detail.

My father blinked, then nodded. “Irish.”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s… good to you?” I stared at him for a long moment.

I didn’t want to answer. Not because the answer was complicated, but because the answer was precious. And I didn’t want to hand something precious to the man who had once shattered everything I touched. But Finn’s voice echoed in my mind. You’re allowed to be compassionate and still have boundaries. I exhaled. “He is, He’s good to me.”

My father’s shoulders sagged slightly, like he’d been holding his breath for that. “I’m glad. Truly.” I didn’t trust the warmth rising in my chest. I didn’t want it. It felt like betrayal. The waitress passed by again, refilling water. The café noise continued around us, strangers laughing, couples talking, people living their normal lives while mine sat dissected on a table between me and the man who made it complicated. My father glanced out the window again. “He waited for you?”

“Yes, “He always does if i need him”

He nodded slowly, like he was absorbing the meaning beneath the words. “He doesn’t try to control you?”

I almost laughed. Almost. “No, He doesn’t have to.”

My father’s eyes lifted to mine. “You trust him.”

It wasn’t a question. I swallowed again, my throat suddenly tight. “Yes, I do.”

My father looked away quickly, blinking as if something in his eyes had stung. “Good,” I watched him carefully. For a second, he looked like a man grieving something he didn’t deserve to grieve. Then he looked back at me, expression composed again. “I’m sorry.”

I stiffened. “For what?”

“For not being that,” The words hit harder than I expected I stared at him, coffee cup frozen in my hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the kind of man you could trust, I’m sorry you had to learn what love wasn’t before you could learn what it was.” The air felt thick. The café noise blurred. My heartbeat became too loud. I wanted to lash out. I wanted to tell him it was too late. That apologies didn’t rebuild childhoods. But the truth was uglier than that. The truth was that hearing him say it out loud made something inside me loosen. Not forgiveness.

Just… acknowledgement. And acknowledgement was dangerous, because it made the pain feel real in a way anger had always kept distant. I set the coffee cup down carefully, afraid my hands might shake. “You don’t get to be proud of him,” I said suddenly, voice sharp.“You don’t get to look at Finn and feel relieved like you didn’t almost ruin me.” My father’s face tightened, but he didn’t argue.

“You’re right,” That response stole the fight out of me. I stared at him, jaw clenched, feeling the frustration twist into something unfamiliar. I didn’t want him to agree. I wanted him to be wrong. I wanted him to give me a reason to hate him cleanly again. Instead, he sat there like a man who knew he had no defense. “I’m not asking to be proud, I’m not asking to be part of it. I just… I want to know you’re safe.” The words felt like they should have been said fifteen years ago. They felt like a letter delivered to the wrong address long after the house had burned down. I looked out the window. Finn was still there. Still waiting. Still steady. My father followed my gaze, then looked back at me. “He looks like a good man,”

I didn’t respond right away. Then, reluctantly,  “He is.”

Silence again. My father shifted slightly in his seat, hands folding and unfolding like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Do you love him?” he asked.

My stomach tightened. That question felt too intimate. Too personal. Too close to something he hadn’t earned. But then I thought about Finn, sitting in the car, letting me walk into this alone. Letting me face my past without making it about him. I thought about the way he listened. The way he didn’t fix me, but still made me feel held. I looked at my father. “Yes, I do.”

My father’s eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. “I’m glad,” he whispered.

The waitress returned with the bill. My father reached for it immediately. “No,” He froze. “I’m paying for mine,”  His hand hesitated, then he nodded, withdrawing.

“Of course.” That small moment mattered. He didn’t argue. He didn’t insist. He didn’t try to reclaim authority through generosity. We paid separately. Outside, the snow was heavier now, thick enough that the world looked blurred at the edges. Like reality was being rewritten. I stood, pulling my coat on. My father stood too. For a moment, we just looked at each other. There was no hug. There was no closure. But there was something else. Something smaller. Something quieter. Something like effort. “I’ll see you next week?”

I hesitated. Finn’s words echoed again. If it’s for you, keep doing it. I nodded once. “Yeah.”

My father exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath the whole hour. “Thank you,” I hated that word. But I didn’t correct him. I just turned and walked toward the door.

Heavy is the crown.

”All good things come to an end….or so they say…”

Kayla Richards, two-time former World Bombshells Champion and current number one contender, steps forward. Her long black hair is tied back away from her face. Her make-up is impeccable, and a small arrogant smirk sits on her upturned lips.

”I still don’t believe my title reign should have come to an end. And it’s funny, because every time it has, the woman who has ‘replaced’ me has failed. The first one was Andrea Hernandez. She tried so hard, and got so far. But in the end, it didn’t even matter. And now her career is as dead as the man who wrote that song.”

“And now Andrea is gone, and I was left to pick up the pieces. Proving that I was the best. Proving without a shadow of a doubt that I was the best. Because as I have pointed out, I could have waited for a one-on-one opportunity. I could have picked my time and my shot, but instead I inserted myself into the Elimination Chamber. But do I get any credit for that? Do any of you acknowledge my accomplishments? No, of course not.”

“But I saved the Bombshells Title once, and now I have to save it again because my ‘heir apparent’, the great young rookie who is so far up Amber Ryan’s snatch she might as well be a redhead and probably knows what Matt Knox tastes like, Frankie Holliday also failed.”

“She lost. She lost to Crystal. And let me be clear here: I was ready to walk away. To allow someone else to have the spotlight. I was ready to settle personal scores, maybe go after the Roulette Title to complete my set. Or hell, I could have taken some time off, enjoyed it with Finn, or spent time with my nieces. I could have done all of that, but instead I’m being called on to save this division and the championship again….because now it is at its worst point….a low point that we haven’t seen since…well…..ever…”

Kayla shrugs and steps forward, her green eyes piercing with annoyance, anger, and frustration.

”And yes, Crystal. That is all because of you. And for this entire promo I am going to be calling you by your first name, since none of us know or care what your last name is anymore. And trust me, I have tried so fucking hard to keep track of your marriages and relationships over the last decade that I have known you. But at some point, even I had to tap out since my cork board started looking like the evidence board for the Zodiac Killer or some shit.”

“But, I was fine with that. I really was. While you were making a complete fool of yourself, we all stood back and laughed. Hell, I even allowed you to call me your ‘bestie’ and truth be told, it was out of respect for the wars you had in IWF with my older sister. Back when you were a force to be reckoned with. Not the simpering, pussy-chasing clout monster you have become.”

“But I never really let you in, Crystal…”

“And why would I?”

“You’re a mess….your entire life is a mess. Your personal and professional relationships. The turnstile love life. All of it. And you have been playing out this bullshit in front of us for years, and it has become old hat. But when it was just in your own little corner of wrestling, no one cared. It was a distraction, a small blip on SCW’s radar….we were all happy with that. Until the Crystal-verse infected the Bombshells World Championship…”

Kayla can’t help but roll her eyes before looking around and taking a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself so she doesn’t go too overboard.

”That championship is supposed to be a beacon of hope. It is supposed to be this goal that every single woman in this company and other companies wants to attain. An accolade that they can put on their résumé to say for a brief shining moment, they were the best. And that is what the SCW Bombshells Championship is. When I’ve been able to hold it twice, and while I had it in my hands or around my waist or over my shoulder, I could tell anyone and everyone who had their eyes on me that I was the best, and nobody, and I mean nobody, could say any different. That’s what that championship means, and you should be able to do that…but you really can’t.”

“See, at Inception, I was in a hardcore match against Bella Madison. And I’ve been very vocal about Bella and her abilities, in the fact that she is good enough to become a champion but can’t quite take that extra step, and can’t quite hold herself to the same regard as many of the main event players in this company. She isn’t good enough to be like myself, she isn’t good enough to be like Frankie Holliday, she isn’t good enough to be like so many of the other great names that have walked into this business in this company. She could be, but she fails. But she still tried to take me to the limit in a match that was brutal and hard-fought. Meanwhile, what was going on with that championship that you hold?”

“Was it being contested in some kind of epic match? Was it a rematch between yourself and Frankie? Were you defending it in a one-on-one match against someone on the roster who earned it? No. Of course not. A championship meant to be held by one person was being defended in a tag match. A tag team match where you were teaming with a woman who was going to turn on you. A turn that we all saw a mile off. And you were defending it against your wife and your sister-in-law. In this overdramatic, unbelievably convoluted bullshit match that nobody cared about.”

“Wow… amazing.”

“You took a championship that means so much to so many people and reduced it down to a prop in your stupid little drama-filled life. You took the top prize in women’s wrestling and made it all about your stupid little relationship. Nobody cares about your marriage, nobody cares about Seleana or Zenna Zdunich, and the only good thing to come out of that match was watching Mercedes Vargas beat the shit out of you afterwards.”

She takes a deep breath, folding her arms over her chest again. Her shoulders square up and her posture straightens.

”The SCW World Bombshells Championship deserves better. It deserves a champion who’s not going to be like you. While you were defending that championship in that tag match that nobody cared about, I was taking one of the most mid talents in this company and making her look like a star. Bella Madison could beat you for that championship, Crystal. She could beat your wife, she could beat your sister-in-law, and she could beat Mercedes. And I beat her. She and I have more talent than any of the four women that were involved in that match. Yet she and I were pushed into the middle of the show in a hardcore match while you were fighting for that championship. The championship that became secondary because you made it that way.”

“And now where does that leave us? Because I know what the plan is. The plan is that Mercedes wants to face you and take that championship from you. I know that’s what Mercedes wants to happen, and I’m sure in your mind what you want to happen is that you want to get your hands on Mercedes after what she did to you. And that’s fine. You and Vargas can have your silly little legends war where you beat the hell out of each other to prove some stupid point that no one’s going to care about in a month’s time. Go right ahead. I’ll even throw you a little party.”

“But, it won’t be for that championship.”

“No matter how much you both wish it to be. And you can keep your stupid little speech about wanting to be a fighting champion to yourself. Even though I know that that’s exactly where you’re going to go with it. You want to face Mercedes, and you want to let her jump the line. That isn’t going to happen. You will defend that championship against me. Whether it is physically in your hands or not. And after I have beaten you, after I have become the champion again, then Mercedes is either going to hand that championship to me and continue her little crusade against you…or I’m going to snap her neck like a fucking twig, take that championship by force, and then send her to you in a nice, neat little box to do with whatever you will.”

Kayla can’t help but chuckle, shaking her head before continuing.

”But the fact remains that this match is for the World Bombshells Championship. It is for all the marbles, Crystal. You can do and say whatever the hell you want to. You can go back to your wife and her idiot sister, and you can go on with your war with Mercedes all you want. But that championship deserves better, and I’m going to be the one to rescue it from you. I’m going to be the one to make it relevant again. I’m going to be the one who will do everything that you said you wanted to do. To be a real fighting champion. But not just take that championship and defend it against anyone and everyone, I will defend it against the best that this company has to offer. The best that this company can throw at me. And then you will be looked at as just a footnote. A blip on the radar. While my dominance continues.”

Chapter 78: Fracture Lines

I didn’t go to Amber right away.

That surprised me.

For years, she’d been my constant. The fixed point. The one person in that house who had seen everything I saw and had been old enough to understand it the way I did. Where Tasmin’s memories softened at the edges, Amber’s had always been sharp, exacting. We had survived the same nights. The same broken glass mornings. The same apologies that smelled like beer and shame. Amber was the one who taught me how to listen for the sound of his truck in the driveway and read the mood of the engine before the door ever opened. She was the one who showed me how to pack a bag quickly and quietly, just in case. The one who learned first how to disappear in plain sight.

She was supposed to feel like I did.

That certainty sat in me like an anchor. Heavy. Unquestioned.

And maybe that was why I delayed. Because some instinct, buried deep beneath my ribs, whispered that anchors could drag you under if they shifted without warning.

When I finally drove to her place, the sky was overcast in that way that made everything look flatter than it really was. Muted colors. Soft light. A world holding its breath. Amber lived further out than Tasmin, in a house that felt grown-up in a way ours never had when we were kids. Clean lines. Warm wood. Big windows that let the light in instead of barricading against it. Proof that she had built something solid out of what we came from.

I sat in my rental car for a full minute before getting out.

Just breathing.

Just listening to the tick of cooling metal and the distant sound of birds. My chest felt tight, but not with panic. With anticipation. With something like grief, already bracing for impact.

I knocked. Once.

Amber opened the door with a soft smile already in place. “Kay,” she said, like my name was a relief. Like she was glad to see me.

That alone unsettled me.

“Hey,” I replied, keeping my voice level. Neutral. She stepped aside and let me in. Her house smelled like coffee and clean laundry. Familiar in a way that had nothing to do with childhood. She gestured toward the living room. I followed, taking in the details the way I always did when I was trying to keep myself steady. The way the cushions were arranged. The framed photos on the wall. None of them of him. That mattered.

She poured me coffee without asking. Another thing that should have comforted me. Another thing that didn’t. “So,” she said gently, handing me the mug as she sat across from me. “I was wondering when you’d come by.”

There it was. Not if. When. “You knew?” I asked.

She nodded. “Tas called me.”

Of course she had. Tasmin, always reaching for connection. Always trying to weave us together instead of letting us drift. I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the heat sink into my palms. “He went to see her,”

“I know.”

“And you,” I continued, watching her face carefully, “you’ve seen him too.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t rush to explain. She just took a slow breath and nodded again. “Yeah. I have.”

Something cold slid through my chest. “When?” I asked.

“A few weeks ago.”

Weeks. Not days. Not hours. Weeks of silence. Weeks where she’d sat with that information and chosen not to bring it to me. I felt the first real crack form then, thin but unmistakable. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” she said honestly. “And I didn’t want to make it harder for you before you were ready.”

I let out a short, humorless breath. “You decided that for me?”

Her eyes softened, but her posture didn’t change. Calm. Grounded. “I decided to give you space.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No,” she agreed quietly. “It isn’t.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and expectant. I could feel the anger stirring now, low and slow, like a tide pulling back before it surged. “What did he say to you?” I asked.

“He apologized,” Amber replied. “He didn’t ask for anything. He didn’t make excuses. He just… owned it.”

I swallowed. “And that was enough?”

“No,” she said immediately. “It wasn’t enough. But it was something.”

Something. That word again. The way everyone kept reaching for the smallest possible measure of progress and holding it up like proof of transformation. “You believe him….Just like Tas”

She considered that. “I believe that he’s sober. I believe that he knows what he did. I believe that he’s carrying regret.”

“And you think that changes anything?”

“For me?” She met my gaze. “Yes.”

The word hit harder than I expected. “For you,” I repeated.

She nodded. “Kay… I’m tired.” That caught me off guard. Not because it was dramatic, but because it wasn’t. She didn’t sound defensive. She didn’t sound hopeful. She sounded… done. “I’m tired of carrying him around inside me,” she continued. “Tired of waking up angry at a ghost. Tired of letting my past decide how much peace I’m allowed to have now.”

My jaw tightened. “So you just… let him back in?”

“I didn’t let him back in,” she said calmly. “I let him speak. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” The question came out sharper than I meant it to.

“Yes,” she said. Firm. “Because I didn’t open the door to who he was. I listened to who he says he is now. And then I made my own decision.”

“And that decision was to forgive him.”

“No,” Amber said, shaking her head. “That decision was to forgive myself.”

The room suddenly felt too small. “For what?” I asked.

“For surviving,” she said simply. “For staying. For being angry for so long. For not saving you sooner. For not saving Mom. For all the things I couldn’t control but punished myself for anyway.”

I stared at her, a familiar ache blooming behind my ribs. “He doesn’t deserve that,”

“This isn’t about what he deserves,” she replied. “It’s about what I do.”

There it was. The fault line. Clear now. Stark. “You’re acting like this is some kind of personal growth exercise,” I said quietly. “Like what he did was just… an obstacle you’ve finally learned to climb over.”

Amber leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m acting like I don’t want to bleed from wounds he stopped inflicting years ago.”

“He didn’t stop,” I shot back. “He ran. There’s a difference.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And running didn’t erase the damage. But it did stop new damage from happening.”

“That doesn’t earn him redemption.”

“I’m not redeeming him, I’m releasing him.”

The anger surged then, sharp and sudden, but I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t lash out. I felt it coil inside me, tightening, demanding release, and I denied it. The old habit. The one that kept me safe. “So what?” I asked, voice deceptively even. “You want me to do the same? Sit down with him and let him tell me how sorry he is?”

“No,” Amber said immediately. “I want you to do whatever lets you breathe.”

“What lets me breathe,” I said, “is knowing that what he did mattered. That it wasn’t just… something we’re expected to get over because enough time has passed.”

Her gaze softened. “Kay… it mattered. It still matters. Nothing about what I’m doing erases that.”

“It feels like it does. That everything I went through and everything I have ever thought has been nothing but a lie. That I’ve been wrong this entire time. That every failed relationship, every friendship I have ended and every single person I have pushed away hasn’t mattered either.”

She inhaled slowly. “I know…but it doesn’t.”

That admission hurt more than any argument would have. “Then why do it?” I asked.

“Because holding onto rage didn’t protect me anymore,” she said. “It just kept me tethered to him.”

I looked away, staring at the window, the dull gray sky beyond it. “You sound like everyone else,” I murmured.

“Everyone else?”

“Tas. Mom. Him.” My fingers curled tighter around the mug. “So ready to move on. So eager to believe he’s different. Like I’m the only one still standing in the wreckage.”

Amber stood then, slowly, and crossed the room. She stopped in front of me but didn’t touch me. Didn’t crowd me. She knew better. “You’re not wrong for feeling the way you do,” she said softly. “And you’re not alone in it. But you’re also not obligated to stay there forever.”

Something inside me cracked at that. Not loudly. Not visibly. Just a quiet fracture, spreading outward. “It feels like you chose him,” I said, barely above a whisper.

Her face tightened with pain. “I chose myself.”

The difference mattered to her. It didn’t to me. I stood abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the floor. “I need to go.”

“Kay….”

“I need to go,” I repeated, already moving toward the door. Not running. Just leaving. The way I always did when staying meant breaking apart. Amber followed me to the entryway.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” she said quickly. “I’m just saying your path doesn’t have to look like mine.”

I paused with my hand on the door. “It already doesn’t.” I left before she could respond. The trip home felt longer than it should have. The flight, the drive. Every street too wide. Every stoplight too slow. My chest ached, but I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just felt… hollowed out. Like something essential had been quietly removed while I wasn’t looking.

They were all forgiving him. Or at least, forgiving themselves enough to make space where he once stood. And I was alone in my refusal. By the time I got home, the sky had darkened, the gray deepening into something heavier. I sat there for a moment, feeling the weight of it all press down on me. Not just anger. Not just betrayal. But the slow, creeping realization that healing didn’t look the same for everyone and that sometimes, that difference felt like abandonment.

I didn’t hate Amber. That was the worst part. I loved her. I understood her. And I still felt betrayed. Inside, the house was quiet. Too quiet. I kicked off my shoes and leaned back against the door, closing my eyes. Everyone else was moving forward. Letting go. Releasing. Redeeming. And I was still standing guard over the ruins. Not because I couldn’t leave. But because someone had to remember what it cost to survive.

The end of enablement

”This division…..my division. Is a joke.”

Kayla Richards, the former SCW Bombshells Champion, sits in a penthouse suite at the MGM Grand. Because of course she would. And of course she would go out to Vegas two weeks before the show to enjoy some downtime. She takes a deep breath, a champagne flute in her hand, dressed in a tight-fitting white dress with a long slit going up one leg, which she crosses over the other as she relaxes on the white leather couch inside the main room of the suite.

”Last year, going into Inception, this company had two of the most dominant champions this business had ever seen. I was the World Bombshells Champion, and Finn Wheelan was the World Heavyweight Champion. Coming out of that show, Finn was still holding the World Championship, and I had lost the Bombshells Championship to Andrea Hernandez. Now, when I lost that championship, I made the decision to wait and regain it in the most dominating way possible by destroying every single woman that was in an Elimination Chamber match so I could snatch my championship back and prove to everyone that it was a fluke. I made that decision. No one else did.”

“And when I regained my Bombshells World Championship, Finn lost his World Heavyweight Championship. So in many ways, Inception last year was the final time that this company had real credibility on both levels. I would try to regain that credibility for the Bombshells by getting my championship back, but Finn had done so much for this company that it completely shredded his body. His shoulder was hanging on by a thread. His entire body and mental well-being were being given to this company. A company that never appreciated him. A company that has never appreciated me. And when I lost the Bombshells Championship to Frankie, I made the decision to step back and see how the division was going to play out.”

“I allowed Frankie Holiday to have a grace period to prove herself.”

“And where exactly did that mercy get me, the Bombshells Championship, and the division?”

“It destroyed it. It destroyed all credibility, as everything that I worked for for the better part of the last four years got flushed down the toilet. I dominated as an Internet Champion. I dominated as a Mixed Tag Team Champion. And then I dominated at the very top of the business. I set this division up to be something special. To regain the glory days before it was ruined by mediocrity. The same glory days that we saw when Alicia Lukas was champion. The same glory days when Amber Ryan and Roxi Johnson went to war. Those glory days. I had us back there. And then it was ruined. Flushed down the fucking toilet.”

Kayla pauses, taking a sip of her champagne before slowly putting the glass down on the table in front of her, the black marble making a small noise as the delicate glass touches it. Her long black hair is slicked back but still flowing down her shoulders, a pair of white gold earrings framing her face as a diamond nose stud shines under the bright light coming from above.

”This is my failure. I foolishly thought that Frankie was going to be the next big thing in this company. That she needed room to mature and breathe. So I allowed her to have that breathing room. I allowed her to have that little bit of extra rope to walk away from me. And do you know what happened when I gave Frankie Holiday that little bit of extra rope? I’ll give you one hint.”

“She fucking hung herself, and with it, this entire division.”

She spits her anger like venom, her green emerald eyes staring forward through heavily eyeshadowed makeup and black eyeliner, mascara making her eyelashes pop in a way that seems unnatural yet somehow evil.

”Now where are we? What is this division doing? Frankie Holiday is facing Aiden Reynolds’ much more talented sister. We have, in Amelia, a woman who could be a star against Frankie Holiday, who everyone thought was going to be a star. We have a Roulette Championship match between two old farts that nobody cares about, an Internet Championship match between someone who can’t get out of her own fucking way in Victoria Lyons and a perennial contender in Harper Mason.”

“And the stupidest and biggest joke of all: the World Bombshells Championship being defended in a tag team match. Let me repeat that, just on the off chance that there are some of you who haven’t been watching the show or keeping up with the fuckery that is going on. The top prize in our game, a championship that means you are the best of the best in the women’s division in this company, is being defended in a tag team match between the woman who flew her way into winning the damn thing, her perennial hang-on in Mercedes Vargas, against her ex-wife and her rookie fucking sister-in-law or cousin-in-law or whoever the hell Zenna is…”

“Are you all kidding me?”

“And to top off this birthday cake made out of dog shit and duct tape, what am I doing? In a situation where I could’ve saved the division, saved the show, and saved my precious Bombshells Championship— instead of facing Crystal and snapping her neck like a twig and showing her that the friendship that she and I had was nothing but a joke because she has turned into a joke— I am instead facing Bella Madison. And the saddest part about all of this is that I don’t hate the idea of facing Bella Madison. I don’t hate the idea of she and I having a match, because she seems like someone who could push me to the limit if properly motivated. The issue is the only one in this match who really has motivation is me. What’s Bella’s motivation? To beat someone who’s better than her? Shit, that’s her motivation in 90% of the matches that she ends up dragging her second-generation, pampered ass into.”

Kayla growls and sits forward, uncrossing her legs but keeping her knees together so we don’t have an accidental kitty wardrobe malfunction.

”Look, as painful as it is for me to admit this, Bella going against Crystal for the Bombshells Championship would be a hell of a lot better than the tag team match that we have for the title. It would make a hell of a lot more sense than myself and Bella going against each other. What would make more sense is this company taking the handcuffs off of me and allowing me to get my championship back by snapping that stupid, pathetic bitch’s neck. But since I can’t do that, and since I’m going into Inception to face you, Bella, then you are going to be the one who has to feel all of the anger and frustration that I have been going through over the last few months since losing my championship and making the decision to step back and watching it gloriously blow up in not only my face, but also the company’s face.”

“The last few months have been an absolute nightmare for me. From losing to Victoria, to having to face women like Candy and Zenna and Cassie. And now I’m going into a match with you. And I’d like to believe, Bella, that you understand the magnitude of this. And if you don’t understand the magnitude of this, I want you to go home, I want you to pick up your phone, and I want you to call your mother and ask her to explain it to you very slowly, because you might not get it.”

“You probably want to frame this as some sort of coming-out party for you. A chance for you to beat someone who was dominant. A chance for you to play out your contrived and overused Cinderella underdog story of the girl who everyone thinks is not good enough finally proving everyone wrong. And hey, I get it. It’s an interesting story, and it’s one that people really can get behind. You will have fans, and a lot of the people backstage, and you will have everyone else absolutely cheering you on, but the issue is that it won’t mean shit.”

“At some point, the applause and the back-patting and the love and outpouring that you get will end up stopping, and the bell will ring. And when the bell rings, a year in the ring with me, all bets are off, all Cinderella stories end up failing, and you will be left alone with a goddamn monster.”

“You come from a wrestling family. Your mother and father were professional wrestlers— great ones, even. You surround yourself with other professional wrestlers. You are friends with Miles, you’re friends with LJ, you are married to a professional wrestler. It just so happens that both your husband and his idiot older brother happened to be married to women who are much better at this wrestling thing than either of them. And in your case, that’s not saying much considering Malachi is a fucking joke.”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, leaning back to finish her champagne and calm herself down.

”I’m not going to sit here and say that you can’t beat me. I’ve said it before, Bella— if we’ve faced before or been involved in a match, you absolutely can beat me. Anyone can beat me. In one out of 100 matches, I’m sure that there is a timeline out there where I slip on a banana peel and fucking Candy gets a win over me. It’s not if you can beat me, it’s will you beat me? And I just don’t see it happening. Miracles can happen in this world, and yeah, you will come at me with everything that you have. I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that.”

“And you should know that your mother and father will be proud of you no matter what happens. But that’s what they’re supposed to do. They are supposed to love and cherish their baby girl. They’re supposed to support you no matter what. But Bella, trust me— the competitive side of them? There is a small part of your mother that dies every single time you get into the ring and end up failing. She watches as her daughter struggles and fails at the thing that came so naturally to her. And it’s because you simply can’t keep up. You rely too much on your family’s legacy. You rely too much on your last name. And you rely too much on the natural talent that you believe you have instead of getting in the gym and working.”

“I have a natural affinity for professional wrestling, but not the same that you have. The difference between you and me is that despite the fact I’m a natural at this, and even though I act like all of this is so easy, I get in the gym and I work my arse off. I run my mouth. I get in the ring. I do everything I can to win, and I leave it all out there in the ring every single time. I watched as the man I love destroyed his body for a championship. I watched him go through rehab after rehab when it came to his shoulder, and I watched him get stitched back together by fucking voodoo witch doctors.”

“And I would go through the exact same.”

“You want to beat me, Bella? You want to get in that ring and make a name for yourself and show the world that you are more than just a sad underdog story and a famous last name? Then you have to prove it by beating someone who matters. And trust me on this, sweetheart— I matter. And to beat me, you’re going to have to damn near kill me, because you will not be getting anything off of me that you haven’t fucking earned. So saddle up, grow a pair, get in the ring at Inception, and show me something more than what you believe yourself to be. Because if you bring the same tired bullshit that you always have? I’m going to eat you alive.”

Chapter 76: The Hunter

There’s a point where fear stops feeling like survival and starts feeling like stagnation. It doesn’t happen loudly. There’s no dramatic crack in the air, no sudden surge of bravery, no cinematic breaking point where the music swells and the heroine stands taller. It’s quieter than that. It happens when you realize you are more tired of waiting than you are afraid of knowing. I didn’t sleep after I found the note. Not really. My body lay still beside Finn, my breathing rising and falling in a poor imitation of rest while my mind stayed wide awake, circling the words like a wound I couldn’t stop touching. Spring always comes back around. The words weren’t threatening. They weren’t violent. They weren’t cruel.

They were intimate. That was worse. Finn’s arm was draped loosely across my waist, warm and heavy, grounding in a way that almost hurt. He slept so peacefully it felt unfair. His breathing was slow, steady, like the kind of man who believed his world made sense. I watched the ceiling while he dreamed.. I counted the seconds between the tick of the clock and the whisper of the rain against the glass. And somewhere in the endless quiet, the fear burned itself out. What was left wasn’t panic. It wasn’t dread. It was clarity. Cold, sharp, merciless clarity. By the time the sun crept through the curtains, I was no longer hiding.

I was hunting.

Finn left early that morning. He always did when he could sense the storm building in me. He never said it out loud, but I felt it in the way his kiss lingered a second too long against my cheek, the way his hand brushed my shoulder like he was trying to leave something behind.

“Text me if you need anything,” he said.

“I will,” I lied. I watched him from the window until his car disappeared around the corner, until the house felt hollow and mine again. Then I went to work. I started with the box. Not the pretty parts. Not the petal-soft lies of symbolism and memory. I tore it apart.

I lifted the lining, peeled back the glued seams, scraped my fingernail along the corners where the cardboard met itself. The poppy lay beside me on the counter, untouched, watching with its perfect, mocking petals. The cardboard was cheap. Generic. The kind of thing you could buy in bulk without raising questions. But the tape was wrong. Too thick. Too clean. Not torn…….cut. Someone careful had done this. Someone methodical. Someone who planned. I moved on to the cameras. Laptop open. Curtains shut. Coffee forgotten and cold beside me. I pulled footage from the past two weeks and didn’t just watch it, I dissected it. I slowed frames. Increased contrast. Adjusted brightness until grain became shape and shadow became form. The figure never appeared clearly. That wasn’t an accident. A hoodie. A baseball cap. Hands buried deep in pockets. Always at the edges.

Never charging. Never rushing. Never threatening. Just existing. Waiting. Watching. I moved to the postmark next. The thing I hadn’t wanted to look at before. The thing fear had convinced me would break me if I stared too long. I drove. The post office smelled like old carpets and tired lives. A bell chimed when I opened the door, and a bored fluorescent flicker buzzed above my head like something trapped. I slid the receipt across the counter. “Where was this sent from?” I asked. My fingertips pointing at the postmark on the original envelope. An international postmark that had disappeared from the recent ones.

The woman adjusted her glasses, her gaze lazy until it wasn’t. She typed. Paused. Looked at me again, this time more carefully. “Are you sure you want to know that, hon?”

“Yes.” She turned the screen toward me. And suddenly I was eight years old again. Three townships over from our home in Norwich England.  The same township my mother drove to when she said she needed “air.” The same park I remembered in nightmares and half-memories. The same field where red flowers bent like silent witnesses. The poppies. My stomach didn’t flip. It dropped. Straight through the floor. By the time I got back into my car, my hands were shaking. Not with fear.

With rage.

You don’t get to touch my memories. You don’t get to package my pain and send it back to me dressed up as poetry. That night, I stopped hiding. I made the house look careless. Curtains slightly open  Lights off. My reflection in the black of the television screen positioned just right so it could be mistaken for sleep. I placed myself on the couch. And I waited. Two hours passed. Three. The silence pressed in like a living thing. Then…..headlights. The slow, deliberate slide of light across the walls. I rose quietly, barefoot on cold tile, and moved to the curtain just enough to see without being seen. The black sedan rolled to a soft stop across the street. Not aggressive. Not rushed. The driver’s door opened. And he stepped out. He wasn’t what I remembered. Not really.

He wasn’t the storm in my childhood. He wasn’t the shaking hands and broken bottles and slurred promises. He was… smaller. Older. Worn down at the edges. Baseball cap pulled low. Dark jacket hanging off shoulders that had lost their bulk. Slower steps. Careful ones. Like he was approaching something fragile. Like he was approaching me. He walked to the mailbox. I opened the front door. The sound cracked through the night like a gunshot. He froze. Turned. And time did a strange thing. Older. Lined. Eyes tired but clear. No glaze. No sway. No stink of bitterness and rot. But the same face. The same bones. The same mouth that used to shout my name like a weapon. My father. “Kayla…” he whispered.

It was almost reverent. Like he was saying something sacred. I stepped into the hallway. Didn’t run. Didn’t scream. Didn’t break. Just looked at him. “You’re not dead,” I said.

He swallowed. “I wanted you to think I was.”

A sound escaped me that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You don’t get to decide what I get to believe.”

He nodded, like he deserved to be carved open by the words. “I know.”

Silence sat between us, heavy and old and soaked through with everything that had happened before the world split open. “You sent the poppies,” I said.

“Yes.”

“The notes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He flinched. Not dramatically. Just a quiet tremor in his jaw. “Your mother told you I died because she thought it was the only way to keep you safe from me.”

My arms folded across my chest, bones tight. “She wasn’t wrong.”

“No,” he said. “She wasn’t.” He stared at the ground. “I’ve been clean for fifteen years.” The words should’ve been heavier. They should’ve crushed something. They just… landed. “I didn’t come back to hurt you,” he added. “Didn’t even know where you were for years. I saw your name. I saw… what you’d become.” His voice cracked. “And I thought… maybe I could leave you something that wasn’t poison.”

I stepped closer. Every step felt like walking over broken glass in bare feet. “You don’t get to rewrite yourself inside my life.”

“I’m not trying to,” he whispered. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

Sorry. It was a small word. Pathetic in its shape. Not because it wasn’t real.Because it couldn’t possibly be enough. The streetlight flickered above us. The sedan sat behind him, humming like a held breath. I studied his face. Not the monster. Not the ghost my mother built. Just a man who had outlived his own worst parts. “Spring always comes back around,” I said.

He gave a weak, broken huff of air. “That was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Then, softer: “But I understood it.”

His eyes went wet in a way he clearly hated. “I’m not here to stay,” he said. “I won’t come back unless… unless you want me to.”

Of course he wouldn’t stay. Men like him never do. They get cleaner, quieter, but their fear remains intact. I turned back toward the door. Then stopped. Looked over my shoulder. “You don’t get to be my father,” I said “You don’t get forgiveness. You don’t get my life.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“But,” I said, steadier now, colder, “You don’t get to watch me from the dark either.”

Silence.

“I decide if you exist in my world.” He understood that too. I could see it. I went inside. Locked the door. Pulled the curtain shut. Held the poppy in my palm. And for the first time since the box arrived The house didn’t feel quiet. It felt alive. Awake. And as I turned the flower between my fingers, I finally understood the truth. I was never being hunted. I was never being stalked. I wasn’t prey. I was a memory being reached for. I was a ghost being called home.I was being found.

War

”This is a declaration of war.”

Kayla chuckles and laughs to herself. Her bright green eyes shining.

”War on this company. War on this division. Something that I am incredibly sick of is watching people think that one match or one win is going to cement their legacy. Watching the pure laziness as they win one big match and then think they are on easy street. Frankie Holiday beat me, took my championship, and then believed that she had a shot at just being the best. At being able to live up to that legacy that she thought she was creating. A stolen legacy because she happens to be best friends with Amber fucking Ryan. Well, no matter how much you crawl up someone’s arse, it doesn’t mean you get their wrestling ability”

“Frankie thought beating me meant that she could claim herself to be the best of the best. But her first hurdle, her first speed bump, her first challenger beat her. And not only was it her first challenger, it was from a woman who hasn’t had a sniff of the world championship in half a decade. Crystal beat her. Crystal beat her one on one and took that championship. Congratulations Frankie, all of your talk about being the next big thing and being a rookie who is going to shock the world, and all you did was hand the championship back to somebody who hasn’t been able to get close to it since before you started your professional wrestling journey.”

“Good job”

“And suck shit.”

“Same to you, Victoria. You see, Victoria and Frankie both got wins over me, and I’ve tried to tell you people that a win over me is as good as a championship. The kind of win/loss record I have and the kind of past I have in this company. Three-time Internet champion, three-time Bombshells champion. Two-time and longest reigning mixed tag team champion, and the only reason those championships got taken from myself and Finn is because they couldn’t find anyone with the balls to come after us and then Finn got hurt. That is the kind of legacy I have in this company, that is the kind of legacy that I leave in every company. And all of you people want to stand there and think that I was done and give all this credit to Frankie and Victoria? They beat me and they did nothing. Frankie lost that championship and Victoria lost the opportunity to even fight for the championship.”

Kayla pauses for a moment and throws her hands in the air. You can see the frustration etched on her face and in her body language. In fact, you might say that she’s not mad. Just very, very, very disappointed.

”And now what? I came back and I beat the shit out of Candy. I destroyed her in a match that should never have happened because she did not deserve to be in the same ring as me. And I told each and every one of you that putting her in the ring against me was a miscarriage of justice, not only for myself and my career but also for Candy. Candy was a warning shot to all of you. And now I’m facing… Zenna Zdunich….”

Kayla shakes her head, trying to hold back a frustrated chuckle.

”Zenna. Someone who is clearly a member of a family that has become a running joke in this company. Even if she is tied to our current Bombshells world champion, helping Crystal overcome issues and problems. But anyone with your last name that is involved in that shit show is instantly not going to be taken seriously. The whole overdramatic bullshit between Crystal and Seleana just makes our entire business look bad. And you? You are just some nobody who is popped in with that last name slapped onto the end and you have done nothing to earn this match against me.”

“Legitimately, think about it. What exactly have you done to earn a match against me? Everything that I’ve accomplished and everything that I have done, I should be facing the best of the best, but instead I’m facing a nobody whose greatest accomplishment is being a rhythm guitarist in a shitty band no one cares about. I am going to be the champion again. I am going to snap Crystal like a fucking twig and take my championship back. And you are just going to be another name on my win record, and not even one that matters. Candy, as much as I was giving her shit, has at least won a championship in this company and isn’t as big of a raging joke as you.”

“This kind of booking pisses me off. It’s almost like the general manager and Christian got together and just threw darts at a fucking board to come up with who I was going to face. I want my matches to matter, I want what I do in that ring to matter. And beating you? What does that get me? Beating Candy? What did that get me? Nothing. It gets me nothing, it gets me nowhere, and it doesn’t help me do anything that I need to do.”

“I could have had a rematch against Victoria Lions to try and get my win back after losing in the semi-finals of the tournament. I could face Frankie Holiday again just to kick the stupid little bitch while she was down and make sure she realises that her true position is not as a world champion. It’s at the bottom of my goddamn heel. I could have faced Bella Madison, a legacy in this company who knows me as well as I know her. There’s 1,000,001 other matches they could’ve made, including putting me against Mercedes Varga so I could beat the shit out of her while Crystal or Christina watches on. Hell, they could’ve put me in the ring with Christina and if I beat her, I get a title shot. That would’ve solved a hell of a lot of problems. But no, I’m facing you, some no-name nobody who can’t even lace my fucking boots”

Her voice raises as she stands up. Her long hair tied back in a bun and a black leather biker jacket over a black shirt with the almost unreadable logo of the deathcore band Whitechapel printed onto it. A tight pair of black jeans with tears on the knees and upper thighs looks like they are painted onto her body with how tight they are. Her nostrils flare as her eyes turn to pure raging fire.

”Now, since I can’t do anything to management over the bullshit booking, then I’m going to have to take out all of my anger and all of my frustration on you. And maybe you don’t deserve that, Zenna. I mean, think about it. All you are doing is turning up to work. All you are doing is taking an opportunity. And what an opportunity it is. In your young SCW career, you are going to be facing me one on one. I’ve already told you what I have accomplished in my time here. And that’s just here in this company. We’re not including everything I’ve done outside of SCW.”

“This is your golden ticket. You could beat me and use this win to catapult your career. You could break through the glass ceiling that people like Bella Madison keep on whacking their head on. You could do so much with a win over me. Or, you could be like Frankie Holiday and you could be like Victoria Lions. People who beat me and then do nothing with it because they simply aren’t good enough and nine times out of ten, I wiped the goddamn floor with them. Or, you could be like the others who have beaten me like Andrea Hernandez or Aleesha Jones. One woman beat me and then disappeared, coming back for one match and then walking out of the company. And the other? The other one was so terrified at the thought of having a match with me for the world championship after I had just taken it back off of her that she walked out of the company with her tail between her legs. And yes, I’m talking to you Andrea, so if you’re sitting at home, thank you, fuck you, goodbye”

“But you, Zenna… you have a chance at making your career with a win over me..”

“But what I’m going to do is go out into that ring and use you to make a statement. I’m going to use you as the first shot in a war that I’m starting against the entire division. I don’t care who it is, I don’t care how old they are, how young they are. I don’t care if they are a seasoned veteran, a former world champion, or a wet-behind-the-ears rookie who is fresh out of the gym or whatever other bullshit place they think they want to come from. I will jump into that ring and I will do everything I can to destroy the person on the other side of it. And that’s something that all of you should be terrified of. Everything up until now has been just business, and means to an end for me to show you all how much better I am than you. A way for me to add to my legacy. But now, well… this is war.”

“And war….war never changes…”

Chapter 74: The Little Things

There weren’t many things when I was a child that gave me joy. I would wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares — still hearing my mother sobbing, begging my father not to hit her again. Or it would be my older brother yelling at my father. At first his voice was that of a child, not too different from mine or my older sister Amber’s voices — childlike in their innocence, begging and pleading for him not to hit our mother. Then the voice had changed. Amber and I, instead of pleading for him not to hit our mother, then pleaded for him not to hit our brother.

The pitch and sound didn’t change. But my brother’s voice, on the other hand, well, that changed a lot. It became deeper, older. And the voice became less about pleading and more about threatening. The two of them would yell at each other. And very slowly, my brother would start to fight back. But it still wasn’t enough. He couldn’t save all of us. And in the end, my brother left. There was a time I blamed him. A time I hated him. I was so angry that he abandoned us that I couldn’t see he needed to. I couldn’t see that even though he was my older brother and physically close to a man, he still wasn’t strong enough. He needed to leave to save himself.

But those are the points in my life and my past that weren’t enjoyable. Those weren’t the moments I treasure. That doesn’t mean my childhood was nothing but sadness, anger, and sorrow. I don’t want to make it seem like that is the kind of life I always had. The typical “woe is me” tale that so many others rely upon to explain away their misdeeds and their inability to become something better — and trust me on this, that is all it is. When people lean upon their past like a crutch it is always done to explain their inability to stand up and be who they need to be. That isn’t me. It has never been me.

Even though I grew up in a working-class neighbourhood in Norwich, that doesn’t mean it was all industrial buildings and homesteads or townhouses. There was some beauty to be found in the world. Near where I lived there was a beautiful park. In spring I had my happiest memories there. Springtime was when my father had the most work, so he couldn’t drink. He was a completely different person. During the spring we would go out, have picnics, sit and watch the birds fly around each other and dogs play. And the smell — how I remember the smell.

I loved it just after the council landscapers had finished with the park. The smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the flowers blooming always made me smile. I would sit there, reach out, and let my fingertips dance on the fresh green grass, feeling it under my fingertips and in my palm. I would then move over to the flowers and the red poppies that grew.

Those memories — the ones where I was happy and smiling, the ones where I could sit in the park, listen to the birds, watch the dogs, and know that my siblings and I were safe — those are the memories I treasured most. But those memories very rarely included my father. Even though he was there, even though when I was the youngest I can remember I wanted his attention, those memories are fleeting. Memories of a little girl who didn’t know any better. Those daddy issues tend to linger the most. And they manifest as wanting attention from the wrong kind of man — the kind of man who knows how to manipulate little girls like that.

Something I never had, but something I saw in many of the women who were in the gypsy compound I ended up in. People get it twisted about myself and Jace, about Amber and her relationship with Renée. They think that it’s because of our daddy issues that we fell into these moments, like Amber bringing me to Angel and having her train us both on how to be professional wrestlers while also manipulating us. That had nothing to do with daddy issues and everything to do with insecurity. Jace and Renée and the gypsy compound all had to do with wanting to be loved. Not loved by a father figure like you are all thinking, but loved as an equal. Loved as something more than an object. That is something both Amber and I struggled with growing up the way we did.

I told you all this because I need everyone to understand why I contacted him. After everything he had done and after being spied on and followed constantly, and even after promising Finn I wouldn’t, there is a reason why I had to break that promise and talk to Jace.

I looked over at the kitchen bench, grabbed a handful of mail that had come earlier that day and flicked through it — bills, royalty checks for different merchandise, the usual things. But sitting underneath them was a small box. I raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Hearing Finn in the background on the phone, I could hear him swearing at his brother Dickie.

I opened the box and my heart skipped a beat. Sitting inside was a single small red poppy. I swallowed and felt it drop all the way to the pit of my stomach. After a few moments I searched the box, trying to find a return address, but there was none. My hands pulled into fists as anger and frustration bubbled up from underneath. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, grabbing hold of my jacket. I quickly yelled out. ”Going out… be back soon… love you.” I didn’t even stop to hear his response. Walking out of the house, I moved downstairs quickly, scanning around the street before finding a black Chevy parked across the road.

I stormed across the street. The engine clicked on, but before they could leave I reached out and pulled the door open. I found a man and a woman sitting in the front seat; they both stared up at me with shocked looks on their faces. ”Hey — what are you d—”

”Stop. Your fake American accent is atrocious. Just tell me — where is he?”

They could see that I wasn’t screwing around. I knew exactly who they were and what they were doing here. The man turned, looking at the woman with a small nod of annoyance before turning back to me. ”He’s still in New York. We’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, before reaching across his body for the phone sitting in the centre console. I grabbed it and shoved it in his face. ”Call him… now.” He unlocked the phone, flicked it to his number, pressed it, and handed the phone to me. It rang a few times before I heard his voice — still as arrogant and cocky as ever.

”This better be important.”

”If you wanted your idiots to stay hidden and you wanted me to think that you were backing off, you’ve done a piss-poor job. A red poppy, Jace? Really? That’s what you’re gonna go with? If you want to try and fuck with me then maybe you should pick something that wasn’t going to be tied back to you so fast.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone before I heard it — the slow chuckle, the creak of a leather office chair as he sat back. I could see him now, sitting in his tailored black suit, a white bottom-of-shirt, his long hair tied back in a bun. That stupid shit-eating grin on his face. ”You have me at a disadvantage, love. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

”Right. So you are trying to tell me that a box with a red poppy showing up at my house was just a coincidence? There aren’t many people who know about that. In fact, you are one of the only people on this planet who knows about that. I didn’t share that with everybody, Jace.”

I heard him take a deep breath, pushing it out. I could almost feel all of the amusement that was once in his voice disappear. When he spoke, his voice had lost all emotion. It had become monotone, calm, almost disappointed. ”Kayla… I can tell you right now that I had nothing to do with that. If I did, don’t you think I would’ve been gloating about it? Because I would’ve wanted you to know it was me. Now, if we’re done here, give the phone back to that idiot you took it from. I need to have a conversation with him.”

If it was him, he would’ve wanted me to know it was him for sure. He would’ve gloated about it. I turned and started walking away as I could hear Jace on the other end of the phone running down his subordinate. I jogged back across the road toward my home, my mind racing. If it wasn’t him, then who was it? Who sent me that? And for the love of God.....why?

Redemption Part 1

”Who am I?”

Kayla sits in front of a mirror, one leg over the other, her long black hair flowing down her shoulders and back as her bright green eyes stare ahead. Her lips are coated in bright red lipstick as she studies herself in her reflection, feeling as if her mental and emotional limits are about to break as she questions everything about herself.

”Without that championship, who am I? What do I do? I know. I know what I have to do. You see, I need to find myself. I need to find who I am and I need to strive to be that better person. Everyone always thinks about who I was, but no one will ever understand who I am or who I’m going to be. So I’m going to sit here in front of this mirror, in the most cliché and convoluted way possible. I’m going to talk week after week about how badly I want to become champion again and how I have changed for the battle. And then, when I am finally within reach of my goal, when my fingertips are touching it and I am almost where I need to be, I am going to quit.”

“I’m going to quit and I am going to blame all of the management of SCW for my shortcomings. I am going to invent a conspiracy theory and go all over social media talking about how everyone was always against me, despite the fact that I somehow kept succeeding if not for that one sneaky person who was able to defeat me and take it all away. That is the kind of melodramatic slop I should be known for. That amazing amount of trouble-making and whining bullshit that everyone else seems to think is commonplace in this business.”

“Because, as I said, who am I?”[/color]

Kayla takes a deep breath, holding her fist to her chest as she closes her eyes before muttering a few words under her breath.

”And scene!”[\color]

She chuckles, pushing up from her chair and turning away from the mirror, pacing back and forth, sliding her hands into the front pockets of tight-fitting black jeans.

”Yeah, that isn’t me. I’ve never been one to wallow in self-pity or give in to self-doubt. I wish the rest of you would be able to take stock of how people like me react to something like this. Because I’m going to do something there’s so many of you fail to do.....acknowledge the loss. You people want to know what just happened to me at Violet Con? Do you really? Because it’s playing for all to see right there on tape. In fact, you can go back on many streaming services and watch that match and watch the exact moment that I lost. And that is exactly what happened. I lost. And yes, it doesn’t make me happy; it doesn’t make me feel full of rainbows and lollipops and sunshine. In fact, it pisses me off.”

“Losses happen. Now, they don’t happen to me very often, but they happen. Once in a while I will lose a match. I’m not unbeaten, anyone who spends a real length of time in this business never is. If you have had more than ten matches and you are unbeaten and decide to retire then good for you. People like me who have made a career out of what we love, I’m not going to retire undefeated on a pedestal being able to say that no one was ever able to beat me, because that isn’t how this fucking business works. And at Violet Con, Frankie Holiday was able to wrestle the World Bombshell Championship away from me. There are no excuses, there are no calls for it being a fluke. I’m not throwing a tantrum; I’m accepting it and I’m going to do everything I can to get that championship back into my possession.”

“Admittedly it’s kind of bullshit that I have to jump through these hoops like this tournament to get a rematch. Don’t you think? Everyone else talks about how management seems to be against them; I seem to be the one who gets shafted. Anyone else defends a championship and loses it, they get a fucking rematch. Everyone except me, apparently. But hey, that’s fine. I will beat everyone they put in front of me in this tournament while Frankie gets to go and have a free defence against Cassie ‘talentless whore’ Wolfe.”

“You know who she is, right? She’s the one who has exactly the same personality as every other heavy-metal-loving slut that somehow pops their way into this company every couple of months.”

“Well, she is getting a championship opportunity and I’m not. Instead, I’ve been put in this tournament. I have to earn my shot at my championship. And yeah, it pisses me off and annoys me. I would’ve rather been given a championship opportunity based on my past history and what I’m capable of, but if I have to be forced to earn it? So be it. I’d rather be in a tournament than in a random clusterfuck. God knows we have enough of those in this company. So, first round, and who do I get?”

Kayla pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, folding her arms over her chest before laughing and continuing.

”Victoria Lyons. The woman who would be queen. Or at least that’s what she’s told everyone for this entire time. The woman who is always the bridesmaid but never the bride. You ruled over the Roulette Championship division and you did a great job of it, Victoria. You broke all kinds of records, faced the best of the best at the time, and you were able to just keep going. Every single time someone thought your reign was going to end, you proved them wrong and you kept going. I have always been someone who champions people who do everything they can to win and show themselves to be the best of the best, and I’ve told you over and over again that I know you are one of the best. But every single time we face each other and every single time I have to mention you, I have to throw this back in your face because you don’t seem to get it.”

“As great as you are… you are not like me.”

“As talented as you are and as hard as you work, when push comes to shove, Victoria, you simply are not on the same level as people like myself, people like Frankie, people like Amber Ryan, Roxi Johnson, Mikah, or Alicia Lukas. Names of women who were able to climb the ladder and stay on top of the mountain. Women who never had a glass ceiling to break through because of the talent they had. You are on the cusp of that, but you’re not quite there. You are going to be looked at the exact same as Bella Madison, as Mercedes Vargas, as Samantha Marlowe.”

“You might become a world champion.”

“But you will never be the world champion.”[/color]

Kayla pauses again before taking a deep breath and continuing, her eyes burning; she now refocuses on what she wants and what she is ready to accomplish as we head into the next climactic control.

”But you still have an opportunity. You have an opportunity to beat me and go on to win this tournament and then go after Frankie. And let’s face it, it’s going to be Frankie and not Cassie. Anyone who actually believes that Cassie can beat her honestly needs to stop watching professional wrestling because you clearly know nothing. But you have an opportunity, Victoria. You have an opportunity to prove myself and everyone else wrong who ever told you that you can’t get to the top of the mountain. The only problem is that it all starts with me. Everyone else who’s in this tournament you’ll be able to handle pretty easily. Me? I’m the biggest challenge in this thing and you drew me in the first round.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“And you are also going against me at a point where I’m present in the situation and I’m here ready to go. Now, what I mean by that is when I’m on top or when I’m in a situation where I’ve been there for a while I start to become complacent. And that’s just the truth, people become complacent when they are in a position for a long amount of time and that’s what happens. But you are now facing me just after I’ve lost my fucking championship. And every single time I have lost a championship, whether it’s the Internet Championship, all the mixed tag-team championships, or the World Bombshell Championship, I have come back stronger and better than I was before.”

“I lost the Internet Championship and then cleared out that division and held it twice more. I lost the mixed tag-team championships, came back and won them, and laughed the entire time while I did it. And the last two times I lost that world championship I came right back and did everything I could to get my hands back on it, because that’s what a champion does and that’s what I have always done.”

“But now, Vicky, well, now everyone seems to believe that a torch has been passed. That it’s Frankie’s time and the rest of us are just here to live in her division. Like I’m old news or some bullshit. Old news, I’m still younger than most of the women on this roster. I’m not even thirty. And I’ve accomplished more in this business than most people will in their lifetime. In the four years I’ve been in this company, there have been only a handful of months when I haven’t held gold. I feel naked and wrong without a championship around my shoulder or around my waist or in my hands. And now you are standing in my way, Victoria.”[/color]

Kayla plants her hands on the table and leans forward, her nose turning upwards as her lips curl into a snarl.

”You are in my way and I need to get you out of my way. You are the first challenge in this. The first step on my road to my championship. And if you think that I’m easy pickings because I just lost and you are a big fool, you’ve got it wrong. You and your entire family are talented but I am the most talented one in my family full of killers. My sisters are champions, my brother is a champion, my fiancé is one of the best in the fucking world. And you, Victoria, are facing one of the best this company has ever seen and one of the most dangerous women this company has ever seen, and you are facing me at a time when I am so pissed off that the usual rules of engagement go right out the window. And you and I both know I didn’t have a lot of rules to begin with.”

“So this week, I’m not gonna kill your dreams, Victoria. I’m gonna steal your fucking soul.”[/color]

Chapter 72: Shame

As we get older we change. Some change more than others, but there are certain core elements of our personalities that tend to stay intact. The way you think and the way you feel can certainly change as you adapt and learn. And there is a larger level of growth from when you are younger. The way you think when you are a teenager is certainly not the same way you are going to think or feel when you enter your late 20s or your 30s.

And as resistant as I have been to change, I have to be completely honest and admit that I like the person I have become. I have not changed as much as others probably have or would like me to, but I have pushed myself to think differently and to feel differently. Especially when I think about the things that I have done in the past.

The Kayla Richards of old was definitely a different proposition.

Even now in my professional life, I have been called ruthless. I get called out for the things that I say and the things that I do. I get called an opportunist, a bully, and sometimes even an evil genius. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, they are all completely and utterly correct. They are right. In the realm of professional wrestling, I have done everything I can to cultivate this aura around me. And believe me, I know how heavy that word is these days. Teenagers and people in their early 20s love to use the word “aura” like it is some kind of stamp of approval. A buzzword to throw around when they think something is entertaining or they connect with it.

But real aura is when everyone around you stops when you enter a room. It is when the air feels different. It is when the personalities and feelings of everyone in the general vicinity shift. That is real aura. That is real power. And it’s something that so many of you have no idea what it is to hold. The responsibility of having that level of power, that level of fame, that level of respect. It is not something to be taken lightly. And it is something that has taken me years to come to terms with.

Because when I was younger, I had no idea what it meant to have that responsibility or to respect it.

When I was in my very early 20s, I went chasing respect. But I didn’t know what real respect was. I thought fear was respect. And now, as I stop thinking only about my future and I know what it is to have a true partner in life—as I look forward to getting married to a man who has made me feel the self-worth I never had before—I can’t help but think about the mistakes that I’ve made.

”They fucked up…”

Jace walked next to me, matching my pace. That meant he was taking slow but large strides while my legs moved faster. His giant 6’7” frame made me look even smaller by comparison. ”How? How do you fuck up a simple collection?” I remember grinding my teeth together, trying to push all of the anger I felt down. Jace, on the other hand, just smiled and looked to the side. He was trying to contain his amusement. That was one of the worst parts about him. He knew damn well how to get under my skin and how to instigate me.

He would poke and prod and push, doing everything he could to get me riled up. He had to get me riled up as the partner of a Gypsy Prince. It was my job to help enforce the codes and practices that the business side of things needed to adhere to. You could screw up a lot of things and still be forgiven in the family. But one of the things that you were never forgiven for was fucking with the money. ”I don’t know, but they did. These little bitches had one job. Walk in, put their hand out, and get the money. And if anyone tried to stop them, then they just had to be persuasive.”

”Persuasive.” I replied, parroting Jace. We moved toward one of the large buildings—the female barracks. The housing for the women who had not yet been claimed. Jace folded his arms and leaned against the wall outside. I took a deep breath and raised my foot before kicking the door in. The sound of the wooden panels smashing into the bricks behind made everyone in the room jump. The two girls who had fucked up raised their eyebrows. I could see the fear in their eyes; I could feel it radiating from them.

”N-no p-please. Jertisarel! Jertisarel! (Forgive! Forgive!)” The younger one, the one who didn’t really know any better, slid across the floor to the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. The other one—the one who we had put in charge of this little endeavour—sat back in the chair. Eyes full of fear as her hands went up in a defensive motion.

I shook my head. I could feel Jace’s eyes on me. I stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing a handful of black hair, pulling her head back so she could look me in the eyes. The green in them burned like emeralds in the sun. I knew I must’ve looked menacing. ”Tu ćorri ćhej (You stupid bitch)”. Her breathing started becoming laboured. Her hands shook. My lip curled, but there was a twang of guilt in my heart. Because I remembered, not long before this, that’s how I looked.

My hand relaxed, and her hair untangled from my fingers. I took a step back and folded my arms over my chest. ”Please. Mercy. It wasn’t my fault. It was supposed to be simple. Just one woman. But there was a man there. It was only the two of us. They refused to pay. Said they didn’t need us anymore.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. But it didn’t work. Not only was I angry—I could feel it—but I also knew that Jace was right there, staring a hole into my back from the doorway. ”Well, if they don’t need us, maybe we don’t need you. If you can’t handle a simple collection job, then maybe you need to go become a servant….” Her bottom jaw started to quiver. I knew what I had just threatened. Collection jobs meant respect. You earned money. Being in the kitchens, serving, scraping—you were looked down upon.

I went to turn and walk away. The girl reached out and grabbed my hand. This was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake. But she was scared. Afraid and alone. Her younger friend who went with her was hiding her face. I knew what I had to do, and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I turned, my hand striking her as hard as I could across the face. I had turned my ring into the middle of my hand, facing my palm. The jagged edges of the stones caused a deep laceration on her cheek. The blood sprayed across the floor, hitting the green linoleum in a sickening splat.

She let out a whimper and a cry. I looked down at her, doing everything I could to make sure that my eyes didn’t turn sympathetic. Instead, my nostrils flared and I leaned down, reaching forward. I grabbed hold of her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at me. And then I added one simple word while staring her right in the eyes. ”Pathetic.” As my hand released her face, the look in her eyes changed. The fear disappeared. It was replaced now. It was a look of defeat. Of complete and total submission. I turned and walked out, back past Jace and into the hallway.

I was ashamed of myself. I knew what I had done to that poor girl. I also knew that she had two roads in front of her. She could internalize it and come back stronger. Or she could let it define her and break her. I know that because I stood up. I stood up where others let it define them and break them.

But not me.

Not anymore.

Second verse same as the first

”Well….isn’t this interesting?”

Kayla steps sideways, pacing back and forth as she folds her arms over her chest.

”I have never won a match before actually having it. And no, I’m not talking about the upcoming one. I’m also not talking about my match against Bella. A lot of things have been happening in the bombshells division, but one constant that we have had is me as champion. Aside from a small few-week period where someone held it who should never have even come close to it, I have been the champion here. The leader who is driving this division, this company, into the future. And that isn’t me being arrogant, that’s just a fact.”

“Facts. Something that is lacking in a lot of the verbal diarrhoea that most of you decide to throw out there into the universe. In other words, most of you talking an insane amount of shit. And hey, I do too. But when I talk, people listen, because when I talk, I am the only one who’s honest. Hell, even Bella, who I actually like, isn’t honest. She’s not honest with herself and she’s not honest with anyone else. She lies to herself about everything—from her talent to her relationship to her family.”

“She’s a talented girl. She is. And with a little bit of hard work and a tweak in her personality, Bella could become a star. But she’s not willing to pull the trigger. She’s not willing to do what it takes to become the champion that she sees in her head. She’s too nice. And nice girls finish last.”

“Yeah… I know that was corny.”

“But it’s true. To get ahead in this business, to step up and become what you need to be, you need to silence that little voice in your head. That conscience. It’s something Bella listens to way too much. Even when she tries to come off as a bad bitch, she just fails. And she got in the ring against me after winning a championship opportunity, and she failed. But most people fail against me. She shouldn’t feel too bad about that. There are only a handful of people in this business who have been able to figure me out. And even then, even then, I end up getting the last laugh.”

Kayla can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head. She takes a deep breath in and pushes it out before looking up to the sky as she seems to be choosing her words carefully—or as carefully as she can. After all, this is Kayla Richards we are talking about.

”So, as we go into Violent Conduct, I’ve had to deal with a change of plans. Originally, I was supposed to be defending the championship against Andrea Hernandez. And I wasn’t very happy about that. Not because I was afraid of Andrea—far from it, actually—it’s because I don’t like repeating myself. Against Andrea, there was nothing left to say and nothing left to do because we had faced each other so many times. And I couldn’t even be angry at Andrea herself, because she did earn the opportunity to face me. But after she earned it, I noticed something.”

“I noticed that she wasn’t the same. I noticed that the Andrea Hernandez who had a fire in her belly, who wanted to prove everyone wrong and who beat me, was gone. She was gone the moment I beat her and took the championship back at the Elimination Chamber. She was gone the second she was staring up at me holding the championship, and she realised that everything I said about her was true. I said the pressure would be too much for her, I said she would fail, I said I would come back stronger and she wouldn’t be good enough to beat me—and in the end, I was right.”

“But she still earned an opportunity against me. An opportunity that was due to happen at Violent Conduct.”

“The thing is, every single time I say something and I’m proven to be right, every single one of you just ignores it. I said what I said about Andrea and it came true. And after she won an opportunity to face me, I told everyone she was going to just quit. I told everyone she didn’t have that passion anymore, that I had taken every last inch of relevance she had, every last minuscule cell of passion, and stolen it. I took all of it from her, and I knew she was just going through the motions. She had lucked into a championship match, and I told each and every one of you I had already beaten her and she was going to quit before the match.”

“And I was right…”

She pauses for a moment and shrugs, wearing a black leather biker jacket over a black and red halter top with skinny black jeans and Converse.

”So that left this company—and my championship—in a tiny bit of a pickle. Because of Andrea Hernandez and her selfish actions, the company was scrambling for an opponent to face me at Violent Conduct. And instead of just looking at who had been winning matches and who was the best of the best and giving them a championship opportunity, they decided to grab anyone and everyone who wasn’t already in a match, put them all together, and the winner would get to face me. Everyone from legitimate contenders to women who should not be allowed anywhere near my championship were getting an opportunity.”

“And the winner? The woman I beat at Summer XXXtreme. The Blast from the Past winner. Frankie Holliday.”

“It seems like we cannot avoid each other, can we? The thing is, Frankie, I knew I’d be facing you again someday. I knew that eventually you would earn your way back up to this opportunity. I just didn’t think it would be this soon. Just over two months from our last meeting, and here you are again, getting ready to face me at a supercard. And much like last time, you earned your position—even though the week before the match you were confused as to why you were put in that position.”

“And confused as to why a lot of the other women in that match were also there.”

“I have to say, Frankie, I was not prepared for that level of self-awareness—or awareness of how this company operates. I’ve been saying for a long time that the way things are done to bring people to championship matches needs to change, but my complaints fall on deaf ears. Instead of just finding someone based off their win-loss record, we get these contendership matches. And while sometimes a legitimate contender comes out of them, other times nobody ends up winning. Not the fans, not the champion, not even the challenger. But despite your comments to the contrary about whether or not you earned your place in the contenders match to begin with, you did do what you set out to do. And you are trying to change how things are done by taking the opportunity with both hands.”

She claps slowly with a small smile on her face before continuing.

”But you are still just a rookie, right? That’s how you constantly referred to yourself. Hell, after I beat you, you made light of the fact that you had only had a handful of matches, that you just lost to the champion, and it was everything you had worked for. You literally made fun of yourself and also the company for putting you in a position like that. But you were so sure of yourself. You even made a clever little pun about removing me as the captain of the ship on the Sun Princess cruise. Very clever. But you still failed.”

“You still failed. And instead of looking at the loss, analysing it, accepting it, and realising that you needed to come back better and stronger, you instead decided to be a sarcastic little bitch about it and just shrug it off. Playing around like it didn’t bother you because you’re just a rookie. Just a rookie, right? Seems to be a running theme with you. You lose a match or face any type of adversity and it’s just you being a rookie. It’s just you failing because of your inexperience. How long before that stops being any type of comfort to yourself in your own twisted little mind and your stupid little narrative?”

“How long before people stop looking at that as a legitimate excuse and just see you for what you really are? You’re a hypocrite. And hey, welcome to the club, because we can all be hypocrites. You pointed that out about me—the fact that I freely admit to doing everything I can to stay champion, and I told you that if I needed to, I would resort to any act of cheating that I felt necessary. Here’s the problem though, Frankie. I didn’t need to cheat.”

“I didn’t need to, and I didn’t want to.”

“All I needed to do to end you on the Princess cruise was to jump up and slam my knee into that stupid little head of yours twice. Then you laid down, stared at the lights, and I defended my championship. And this time? This time you weren’t even meant to be here. This time it was meant to be Andrea Hernandez, but she dropped the ball and you picked it up. So now you have an opportunity to beat me and get your revenge, but the issue I have is that you don’t even believe in yourself.”

She steps forward, looking down at her shoes before slowly raising her eyes back up with a smirk on her red-painted lips.

”Everything about you screams desperation. You try to protect yourself constantly by leaning on your own inexperience. You try to pre-emptively stop people from being able to talk about certain subjects. Your sarcasm doesn’t do you any favours either. Talking about me like I’m the best and faking contrition is just a way for you to play as desperate as everyone else. Hell, half of the things you say are unbelievably hackneyed. Overused metaphors about poker and playing cards? Yes, we get it. This is Sin City Wrestling… so many roads that others have walked down, all because you can’t come up with anything more entertaining than that.”

“Shit, you even decided to double down on your talk about championships and what they mean. When you faced me last time, you told me titles don’t matter. You said they come and go and you accused me of being defined by them. I’m not defined by championships, Frankie—I’m defined by success. And the measure of success is how you are remembered. When people look at the record books, they will see my name next to championships. They will see how many people I beat in defending those championships, and that is what is etched in history. The fact that you do not see that as a problem? The fact that you honestly believe the bullshit coming out of your mouth just shows that maybe I’m wrong. I keep thinking your inexperienced rookie shtick is a way for you to deflect and that you’re really not that stupid.”

“Maybe you really are that inept. Maybe whoever trained you tried to impart some kind of knowledge on you that you either didn’t understand, or your trainer was an idiot.”

“You keep talking about that inexperience, about the handful of matches you’ve had. But then you said something even more interesting—the fact that you watch and study, you adapt and overcome. But it didn’t really work against me, did it? You’re not a professional wrestler, you’re a fucking fan with a notebook. You can binge-watch the NFL every single weekend, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to go out there and break records. That doesn’t mean you can get on the field and lead the fucking Detroit Lions to a Super Bowl…”

She spits her words like venom and shakes her head before continuing.

”You have another shot. Another opportunity at glory. And I’m hoping and I’m praying that you take it seriously. I am doing everything I can to mentally prepare myself for the bullshit you’re going to say, but I am also hoping that your pseudo-intellectual psychology bullshit doesn’t rear its ugly head. That you realise studying tape is no replacement for real-world experience. And I hope you finally get it through your stupid skull that championships are everything in this business. And if you can’t see that, then you have no business being in it.”

“This match, this fight, is an opportunity for you to show the world what you can do. And in a street fight, you can do whatever you want and it’s all nice and legal, so if that little conscience of yours has a problem with it then you’re free and clear. But it also means I can do whatever I want to, Frankie. I can destroy you. And I will be doing everything in my power to make damn sure that I walk out as the champion. And you have to do everything to make sure that I fail. I just don’t think you have it in you. Your way of thinking is flawed. Your way of living is flawed. And you’ve already proven, with your stupid comments about being a rookie and not having the experience and everything else, that you are mentally not ready to be in this game. You are not mentally ready to face someone like me. And until you are, you’re just going to fail every single time. Let the violence begin. Because I’m damn sure ready.”

Chapter 70: Days of our lives

Summer XXXtreme had been an amazing event for me. Not just professionally but also personally. In my professional life, I was able to overcome a challenge that so many others thought that I wouldn’t be able to. And in my personal life, a milestone event happened. While I was trying to avoid the fans who were on the cruise and while I was shopping, I had a moment that some dream of.

I got proposed to.

By the love of my life.

And when the cruise ship pulled into port, we went back to the airport, flew back home, and got ready to have a well-earned vacation. Finn had kept up with his rehab on his shoulder. I had some well-deserved rest after my championship defense and showing the world yet again that I am just as good as I say that I am. And when I curled up in bed last night and drifted off to sleep, I had never been happier and more content than I had ever been.

My life was moving in the direction that I wanted it to.

But with all things in life, just as everything is looking to be moving on up, someone has to go and shit in your cereal.

My eyes opened. I lifted my arms up over my head, stretching, hearing the various pops and cracks that happen when you have your body slammed on wooden slats for a living. I looked over to the side and Finn was already up. I could smell the coffee drifting through our home as I got to my feet, grabbing hold of my white satin dressing gown and moving out into the hallway toward the kitchen. But something seemed off.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but everything seemed different. More colorful, sharper. Almost as if I was seeing it through a weird 4K filter. It looked hyper-realistic. I turned the corner and stopped in my tracks, Finn stood in the kitchen sipping his coffee. ”Hey…”

He slowly smiled, stepping over to me. He wrapped his arm around my midsection, pulling me closer, giving me a small kiss before looking into my eyes and winking at me. ”Hey yourself…” That felt weird. Not that I don’t enjoy it when he gives me attention like that, but it just seemed off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then I noticed it. He didn’t have his arm in his sling.

”Feeling better?” I motioned toward his arm.

Finn raised an eyebrow and didn’t even acknowledge his shoulder. ”I’ve never felt better….”

He let me go and moved to the side, reaching over and grabbing my coffee mug, putting it in front of me. He had already made me my coffee. I took it in my hands and gave it a sip before making a contented and happy sigh. ”So what are your plans today? Does Dickie need help running his criminal empire?” I tried to hide the annoyance and disdain in my voice. But as always, I didn’t do too good of a job.

Finn folded his arms over his chest. He flicked his head to the side to move some of his hair from in front of his eyes. There was something strange about his hair. Normally it flowed very naturally. Like he just woke up and ran a comb through it to make sure it was where he wanted it, but this time there was a certain stiffness to it and a certain flow, almost like he had added product to it. That is something that is decidedly not my fiancé. He is not the type of person to wear any type of product in his hair. ”I’m not sure. Dickie is… there’s a problem and only I can fix it…. I don’t want to lose my little brother Kayla!”

I blinked a few times trying to process what I just heard. And what I just saw. The entire scene in front of me was an exercise in melodrama. While Finn had been telling me about Dickie, his body language was sharp and dramatic. His voice had risen and fallen in different ways. It was taking me a moment to process that. It seemed wrong, manufactured, and acted. ”I… ok…..” I had no idea how to respond to it. I simply sipped my coffee and sat back as Finn seemingly returned to normal the second he was done speaking.

This was weird….

After finishing my coffee, I got up to go and get dressed. I did my hair and I did my makeup, walking out in my Gymshark workout gear. I stretched a little before walking over to Finn. We were about to do our usual morning routine where I tell him that I’m going to go to the gym and give him subtle hints that I’d rather he take me to the bedroom. He will then play around a little, but ultimately I will end up going to the gym and he will go about his day which had usually been trying to research new ways to rehab his shoulder and come back earlier.

I walked out and looked over at him with a grin. ”So I’m going to go to the gym. Unless you have something better I should be doing?” I smirked. Finn looked up at me and suddenly took me in his arms. I couldn’t help myself and let out a small squeak of surprise. His lips crashed into mine as he pulled me onto his lap on the couch. ”Oh shit… Finn”

He gripped hold of me, hard. He pulled back, staring into my eyes with a mix of lust and affection. ”Kayla, my love. You know how much I love you and how much lust I have for you….. I want to take you!”

While the sudden actions turned me on, the way Finn just said that didn’t. Something was wrong. Something was off. And it was taking me out of the moment. I tilted my head and before I could say anything, there was a feverish knock at the door. A machine-gun rattle as if it was someone who was panicking. I got up and moved over, opening the door only to find my younger sister Tasmin. She stepped through looking shocked. ”Tas? I didn’t even know you were in Colorado. What are you do-“

”Kayla… I have the most horrible news. Alejandro is dead.” Tasmin threw her hands in the air, her right hand moving up to her forehead. She threw her body back and started to cry. I blinked a few times, looking around the room, looking over at Finn who seemed frozen, and then back to my sister.

”Who the fuck is Alejandro?”

Before Tasmin could answer, Dickie burst through the door. He was taking a few deep breaths and looked shaky. ”And what the hell is wrong with you?”

Dickie was breathing heavy and for some reason he was wet, like he had just walked out of a thunderstorm. I looked outside to see a beautiful sunny day. I shook my head and then looked back at Dickie, confused as to just what the fuck was going on. Dickie breathlessly started talking. ”They… they found him.”

”Who?”

Finn stood up. He looked at his brother who looked back at him with a solemn look. ”My evil twin….. DONNY!”

”Not Donny!”

I stood there for a moment, looking from side to side, my eyes darting between my sister, my fiancé and his brother. The three of them kept going with their overly dramatic conversations. After a few moments, I couldn’t handle it any more. My head was pounding and this entire situation was ridiculous. ”What the fuck is going on here?”

This was all very confusing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing or seeing. Slowly, Dickie, Finn and Tasmin walked toward me. My heart started racing. I had no idea what was going on. And then.

I woke up.

”What the fuck?” My heart was beating fast, but I was in my bed. I looked over and found Finn laying there fast asleep. The sun just barely coming up over the mountains. I took a deep breath and laid back, staring at the ceiling. ”What a nightmare…” I took a breath, closing my eyes and relaxing. That nightmare was horrible. It was almost like I was in some kind of….

Soap opera…

A diamond in the toilet

”Oh no… I’m still the champion…”

Kayla Richards holds up the SCW World Bombshells Championship. She looks at it, tilting the main plate toward her face before turning it back to the camera and then sliding the belt over her shoulder, clutching it tightly.

”But everyone told me Summer XXXtreme was going to be my downfall. Everyone told me that the Blast from the Past winner, Frankie Holiday, was going to take this championship and become the fastest rising star this company has ever seen. That’s what everyone was saying. All over social media and Inferno leading up to the match. All of these armchair experts telling me that I had no chance, that Frankie was going to be the next big thing. The downfall of Kayla Richards. The downfall of the dynasty that I had created. Everyone was waiting with bated breath to be able to sing my downfall and her praises.”

“But, apparently I didn’t read the script. Apparently, I didn’t get the memo. I beat Frankie Holiday, and I did it in style. And much to the surprise of nobody, the second that I did, Frankie was playing damage control. She started talking about how she’s only had a handful of matches and she will get better and come back. So this woman who admittedly beat a hell of a lot of great names on her way to facing me,  who is still a rookie, suddenly acts like experience matters when she just spent two weeks before getting into the ring with me trying to tell us all that experience meant nothing.”

“Well, Frankie. Would you like to tell the class what you’ve learned now, you silly little bitch?”

“Experience matters. And now you have two roads to walk down, my dear. One road is that you don’t learn from this. You keep running your mouth and you keep doing the same thing that you have been. Discounting people’s experience while singing your own praises. You let that ego that has already grown out of control spiral higher and higher. And you’ll still have success, but you’ll never reach the height that you should have. Because you won’t reach your potential. The other path is that you accept the loss to me and you realise you need more seasoning. You realise that sometimes you’re the hammer and sometimes you are the nail,  and in our match, I was the hammer. And you took quite a pounding.”

“So… learn from this. Come back stronger and come back after me. I’ll be waiting for you, Frankie, because I genuinely believe if there is anyone in this business who can beat me, it’s you.”

Kayla chuckles and takes a deep breath before stretching and then continuing

”There is so much going on around this championship and around me right now. Aside from beating Frankie, there is a match coming up between three women, and the winner gets to face me next week for the championship. Not to mention if I get past that challenge, I will be facing Andrea Hernandez again. I have to be honest, I’m not very excited about that one. Facing Andrea Hernandez again makes me sick to my stomach,  but not because I might lose to her, because the idea of it bothers me to fucking tears. How many times do I have to beat this woman before she just goes away? How many times do I need to bury her deep before she can’t dig her fucking way back up again like some kind of rotting zombie corpse?”

“Alexandra Calaway, Bella Madison, Victoria Lyons…”

“The three of you have an opportunity. Not an opportunity to actually win this championship in Greece. No, that’s not going to happen,  don’t be ridiculous. But you have an opportunity to put on a good showing and win an opportunity. The only problem is winning that triple threat match means that you will end up having to face me. And that is where the advantage will come and die. This is where your opportunity will lay down and not get back up. As good as the three of you are, none of you are good enough to beat me. Alexandra, you are a ring veteran who has done this for a very long time, but against me, you are nothing. You are just an ageing star who doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Bella, you will never be as good as your mother. And no matter how hard you try, I am on a level that is unattainable for you.”

“And Victoria…”

“You silly, arrogant little twit. You finally lost that joke of a championship and now you think you can step up to the big girls’ table. Unfortunately for you, aside from that fluke of a win when you took the Mixed Tag Team Championships off myself and Finn with your idiot relative, you have never been able to beat me. And one-on-one, you have zero chance. So the three of you can fight over the scraps all you want. All you’re going to be is a warmup for me as I go on to face Andrea Hernandez and defend my title against someone who knows what it’s like to actually beat me one-on-one.”

Kayla shakes her head and acts as if she is done cutting a promo before stopping, her eyes widening as she slaps herself in the forehead.

”Oh wait, I just realised,  all of this exciting stuff with this championship, like facing Frankie Holiday and then going on to face Andrea, and having three challengers vying for an opportunity against me next week… I completely forgot to mention the fact that I’m going to be in action at Climax Control. I completely forgot that I’m getting into the ring against Diamond Caldwell. And why wouldn’t I forget that? This is a random throwaway match with a random throwaway opponent. Do you know why you’re here, Diamond? Do you know why you’ve been booked in this match against me? Because they know I want to get in the ring. You are a sacrificial lamb. Being offered up on a platter, ready to be slaughtered.”

“Do you realise who you’re facing? Combined, I have been champion for over 400 days. My first championship run was almost 300 days, and this one is already well over 100. I have spent most of my career in this company holding some form of championship. I think it’s safe to say at this point that I am one of the greatest Bombshells to ever step foot inside an SCW ring. And you are who they put against me? You? You have to be joking.”

“All I have to do is remind everyone what I’ve done. I just have to look at the camera and tell the entire planet and everyone who is interested in this company all the names that I’ve beaten. And then they look at someone like you who hasn’t beaten anyone in this company. You barely turn up. You can’t be bothered to cut a promo before any of your matches, so no one cares. So now I have to shoulder all of the responsibility to get people interested in this match, and to be quite honest with you, they shouldn’t be interested in this match.”

“Nobody likes watching a one-sided beatdown.”

“But that is where we find ourselves. And I am scratching my head, wondering exactly where we are going to go here. You had an opportunity to earn a championship match. You were there at the Supercard and you could’ve stopped Andrea Hernandez from getting another opportunity against me. But you didn’t, because you failed. It seems to be a running theme with everyone from your family.”

Kayla twitches, her body language showing that she is annoyed with this entire situation. Her jaw clenches together as she takes a deep breath before continuing.

”Seleana,  one of your wives, by the way this whole polyamorous three-way marriage thing is completely ridiculous and you all need to just stop. But those are your own personal choices, so I’m just gonna focus on the fact that both of your wives are complete idiots. Seleana can’t buy a win to save her life. She is a constant disappointment to everyone in this company and should just retire and go raise goats on some random farm in Sweden or some other stupid bullshit. And Crystal? There was a time when I honestly thought that I could look up to her, that she and I were friends. But the more I realised what kind of person she is, the more I’ve realised that she is not a friend to anyone.”

“Crystal uses people. She was trying to use me to keep herself relevant in the spotlight. And then there’s you. The third wheel in this weird, wonky tricycle of stupidity. You walk into this company, you act like you’re going to do something worthwhile, and then go about wasting everybody’s time. Failing every single time you get in the ring, failing every single time you get on the microphone. And now here you are, wasting my time, making me cut a promo on you and actually train for a match against someone who has no business being in the ring with me,  let alone the same fucking company.”

“So, this is what I’m going to do.”

“I’m going to walk into this match against you, and I’m going to do everything I can to expose you as the horrible professional wrestler that you are. I’m going to outlast you in every way, shape, and form. And when the dust settles and you have to go home and look at yourself in the mirror, you are going to realise that this business and this profession is not for you. Then you are going to divorce your idiot wives, you are going to walk away from this business and walk away from that relationship, and you are going to go and do something else. I don’t care what it is. But you are not going to be a professional wrestler,  because you don’t deserve the distinction of calling yourself a professional wrestler. That is what you have to look forward to. Now you have a choice,  you can turn up and receive your beating, or you can stay at home. You can retire, and you can leave this business…”

“With a whimper instead of a roar…”

“Because that is all someone like you deserves.”

Chapter 68: Trauma II

Thinking about my relationship with Matt brought back a whole bunch of memories that I really wish I could’ve left buried and forgotten. Bringing them back up and reliving the horror that I went through was never going to be something easy or something that I would have ever strived to do. But despite those memories, it did remind me of a few things – it reminded me of where I’ve come from and what I’ve been through.

Matt was the exact opposite of other relationships that I’ve been in. He was domineering and tried to control me. And due to my own hubris, I thought I could change him and flip the tables. The relationship with him was like a power struggle with the two of us fighting back-and-forth to gain dominance in the relationship. I failed, and as such, got drawn into a situation where I almost lost myself until I was able to see it for myself.

However, the other major relationship that I’ve had in my life was with someone completely different. Completely different from Matt and also completely different from Finn. His name was Billy Danielson. Many of you probably see how hard I am on Aiden Reynolds, and a large part of that is because he is like the team version of Billy Danielson, who I ended up dating after Matt Shields. There were some similarities there. Billy was also controlling, but in a completely different way. Matt tried to control me through animalistic masculine dominance.

Billy tried to control me through gaslighting and emotional manipulation

He pushed everything in the relationship. In the beginning, I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I didn’t want anyone. I was getting over the horrors that had come about while I was with Matt and didn’t want to be trapped in something. But Billy came into my life and wouldn’t leave me alone. He was charming and funny, but every single time I tried to pull away, he would make me feel guilty. He would use certain phrases and say certain things that would make me feel sorry for him. Emotional manipulation at its finest.

”Come on. You love me, right?”

My breath caught in my throat and I remember feeling a certain type of anger and emotion wash over me. Anger might not have been the best word, frustration would be more apt and appropriate. I knew what Billy was doing. But at the time I wasn’t ready to tell him what I felt. ”Getting married will be great for us.”  I closed my eyes and shook my head, feeling him grab my hand and slide the ring onto my finger.

At that point, I didn’t feel like I could say no. I didn’t want to be engaged to him, I didn’t want to marry him. I could not see spending the rest of my life with a man like him. He was a dumb jock. But he was also like a puppy dog, following me around like I was a goddess. You think being worshipped would be right up my alley, but you’d be wrong.

I needed someone who treated me like an equal and is my equal. Matt treated me like he was dominant to me. Billy treated me like I was above him and a goddess was to be worshipped, while still trying to keep me under his thumb.

”I don’t know Billy. Maybe this is too fast. But I–”

”Look at the ring. It was my grandmother‘s. She told me that when I found a woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I should ask that woman to marry me and use that ring. You’re that woman, Kayla. You don’t want me to let my family down do you?”

I swallowed, he knew exactly how to get me where it hurts. The thing is my family liked him. My younger sister thought he was funny and caring and much better than Matt. And in some ways, he was. But in other ways he was worse. He was more manipulative, knew how to gaslight me and knew how to use my emotions against me. ”The ring is beautiful…”

I didn’t say yes. But I also didn’t say no. So Billy took it upon himself to answer for me. Bouncing up and down happily he took me by the hand and pulled me into a hug. ”I’ll tell everyone we can start planning” I wanted to pull away. I wanted to say no. But something stopped me. At the time I thought he was my last shot of happiness. My last shot of being in a relationship. And I let myself fall into his little trap.

Present Day

I could hear him in the next room. Finn was on the phone. Pacing back-and-forth with his arm still caught tight in a brace, in his other hand with his cell phone. The phone was held up to his ear, but I knew he was talking to his brother. Dickie Watson. The tag team partner of Aiden Reynolds, and bedroom partner of Amelia Reynolds. Finn chatted for a while, stepping out of the room for a moment and moving over to the kitchen. He put his phone on the kitchen bench, put on the speaker device, opened the fridge door with his free arm and grabbed a drink out before cracking it open.

“--so I guess…Yoshiro thinks there’s someone that could do the whole business front for us but…I wanted to wait until I heard from you.”

Finn didn’t reply at first. He took a sip, put the can down and then picked his phone back up and put it back to his ear. He gave a dry response. Annoyed, but not completely. But still the same brother-like tone he’d always given Dickie. After a few minutes of listening to them yap back-and-forth, he finally hung up. He looked over at me with a raised eyebrow as I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. ”What?”

Finn stepped forward and I folded my arms over my chest. One leg was crossed over the other as I closed off my body language. I rolled my eyes again and let out a tck noise from my lips, my tongue clicking disapprovingly on my cheek. ”Your brother is an idiot.”

”I know.”

I growled and turned toward Finn as he sat down across from me. ”Do you though?”

He stayed silent simply giving me the room to express myself. Waiting patiently. It is one of the things that I love about him – he will let me say my piece instead of trying to interrupt me right there and then.

”He got himself into this mess but now he’s calling you every five seconds for advice.”

”Better to ask me for advice than him trying to do it himself. Just think about that for a second. You are advocating for me to leave Dickie to his own devices….. in this situation.”

My brow furrowed and I let out a small grunt of acknowledgement. Kept my arms crossed. Chin held high. He had a point. And that pissed me off even more. ”I just don’t like that he’s pulling you into this situation. We have enough to worry about. We did everything we could to get away from my crazy ex and his bullshit, and then you’ve got Dickie in those crazy Yakuza arseholes who you used to deal with, I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”

Finn smiled. I hated it when he did that. He had this boy’s charm to everything he did but when he smiled, it put me at ease. Even in a situation where I shouldn’t be. His smile would always end up melting any anxiety that I had. ”Nothing will happen to me, Kay. Besides, we’re professional wrestlers. There’s plenty of other things that can end up hurting me.” He motioned toward his shoulder.

I swallowed hard and took a deep breath trying to calm myself down.

Before I’d say something that I’d regret.

”Yeah, not helping, Finnegan.” I said his full chosen name like it was an insult. Because it slightly was, but just enough. “I just don’t want to lose you. Especially if we ever…” I stopped in my tracks. I didn’t want him to know what was on my mind. He was staring at me, wanting me to continue what I was about to say.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him that I was scared to death that he would leave me and a child that hadn’t even been conceived yet. Or talked about. Or planned. I felt my anxiety building and I needed to get out of there.

”Look, do whatever you want. I’ll be back later. I’m going for a walk.”

He didn’t argue with me. Just giving me a small nod as I turned and moved towards the door grabbing my coat. I left and moved out onto the street. My mind was racing. One million thoughts a minute turning and twisting. Making my heart race and my body shake. Ihated feeling like this. Hated the thought that I could.

But then something caught my eye. I slowed down and looked just over my shoulder. I was being followed. I turned and the person was gone. They were back, I didn’t have to ask. The Romani. They were just content with adding to the pile of bullshit that I was dealing with.

”Fuck…”


Blast from the Past

”Well. Here we go. Another supercard on the horizon then another championship defence sitting right in front of me, ready to go. And it’s me with all the momentum going into it. Does it ever get tiring for any of you? Waiting for my downfall and constantly talking like my next loss is going to be the end of me only for me to bounce back and come back better than ever? It has to be tiring. It has to be boring.”

She takes a deep breath, sitting back as a suitcase suits to her left. Packed and ready to go on the cruise for Summer XXXtreme.

”Much like listening to a Mercedes Vargas promo. I bet there were some people who really thought she had a chance of beating me. Some members of the bombshell‘s division and fans who thought that her recent resurgence was going to lead her to beating little ol’ me. Despite the fact that every single time I faced Vargas, I destroyed her. And she is not like me. She cannot come back from loss after loss and come back stronger. I lose. I come back. I dominate. Rinse and repeat. And I’m not saying this to just glorify myself, although that is a large part of it. I’m saying this to get it through all of your thick skulls that while I’m not unbeatable, I am one of the best professional wrestlers on this planet and I deserve to be looked at as such.”

“When I sit here and talk about my accomplishments and throw them all in your face, I’m doing so because I know it pisses you off. I start down that path and I start telling you all about what I’ve done and I can hear the eyes rolling and the exasperated noises you all make.”

“You get pissed off about it. And why wouldn’t you? Why wouldn’t any of you get angry about the things that I say and the things that I do. Do you know the only thing more annoying than a delusional piece of shit? Who doesn’t know what they’re talking about?”

“Someone who is right and tells the truth and you don’t agree with them”

“I could be like the Crystals and the Mercedes of the world. But I’d have to fail to be like them. Women like Jesse Salco and Crystal and Mercedes and all the others that I’ve mentioned in the past are so infuriating in their delusions. They constantly lose and tell people that they are the best and will still overcome everything. They live in this little palace of delusion and when that bubble bursts and they are shown reality, they still refuse to accept it. But that’s not who I am. That’s not what I’m about.”

Kayla can’t help but chuckle. She turns and looks at the Bombshell Championship before taking it in her hand, undoing her suitcase and putting it inside. The suitcase snaps as she closes it up. She lays her hand flat on top of the suitcase before taking a deep breath and getting to her feet.

”I tell the truth and it’s something that so many can’t handle. No wonder if that is something you can accept, Frankie. See, things I’m gonna say about you are just simply from my perspective. I’m not gonna be like everyone else and try to come up with a reason why you are going to fail. Instead, I’m gonna come up with reasons why I’m going to succeed. You might disagree with them, because that’s what I expect you to do.”

“But before I get too far into this, I need you to understand something. The reason why I’m feared, the reason why people look at me and refuse to get in the ring with me, is because of the simple fact that I will embarrass them. And when it comes to this, the big matches, the big spotlight…Baby Girl, I shine brighter than anyone else ever has.”

“I have been a bright shining star since I stepped foot in this place. But I was the bright shining star that this company never wanted. I signed my contract, there were some hardcore Sin City fans who knew who I was. They know who my sister is.They know who my younger sister is. they know the companies that I’ve been in. But management didn't care. I signed my contract, I had a match, then nothing. I sat in fucking catering for months. Months. Until I made myself undeniable. I stomped my feet, I clapped my hands, I yelled and I screamed and I did everything I could to get their attention. And then…then they finally started to book me.”

“My first real shot at glory was for the Roulette Championship. Funnily enough, at a Summer XXXtreme.”

“Three years ago. I was in an Ultimate X Over the Pool match. My first title shot was ridiculous, Frankie. The first chance at glory. And I failed. I failed in that incredible clusterfuck of a match. And even though part of me didn’t want the Roulette Championship, there was also part of me that was completely and utterly devastated that I lost.”

“I have this thing inside of me. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s a need, not a want, a need. I need to win. I need to be the best. I need people to know that I am the best. It is a sickness. It is a disease and I have it and I cannot get rid of it. So when I lost at that event? When I lost that match in 2022, it broke me…”

She took a deep breath and held it for a moment as she was transported to that moment in time in her head. Kayla shook her head before continuing.

”Unexpected, right? I spend so much time talking about my Internet Championship pursuits and the Mixed Tag Team Championships and the SCW Bombshells World Championship. People tend to forget that my first title shot in this company was for the Roulette Championship and I lost. I have never won it. But since that moment three years ago, I have spent almost that entire time as a champion of some sort. In three years, I have been damn near unstoppable. But, I’m not unbeatable. I know that. I’m admitting it to you and everyone else, Frankie. It takes a special kind of woman to beat me. Only a handful have done it. Only one person has been able to beat me and then get away with not being a victim of my revenge.”

“That’s because she left the company promptly and never came back.”

“So, you might be one of the rare exceptions that is able to beat me, but are you the even rare exception that can beat me and then get out of it unscathed? I can’t figure you out, Frankie, and that’s what makes you dangerous. You came in and you won the Blast From the Past. You’ve been undefeated since you stepped foot in this company, and while you haven’t faced someone like me, you have still been able to dispatch everyone who has been put in front of you and that deserves respect. Part of me does respect you. Winning the Blast From the Past is not an easy thing to do. It is not something that just anyone can walk through and survive.”

“And you beat two veterans to do it. I get it, you are probably on cloud nine knowing that you were able to beat two of the biggest stars that the professional wrestling world has ever seen, including one woman who is a legend of this company. But they’re still not me.”

“You could be something very special. Many people think you already are. Part of me agrees with them. And for you to be the star that you seem to want to be, to complete this burst onto the scene with fire and flair, all that you need to do now is finish your little story and beat me. Everything that you have worked for, everything that you want and you need is right here, Frankie. And to get it all, you have to do is go out to that ring and end me…”

She closes her eyes and takes a sharp inhale before continuing

”I’m not ready for that to happen. I’m not ready to step aside and let you become the new shining star that everyone seems to think you’re going to be. One of the reasons is simply because of who you are. See the key differences between you and I are that I tell the truth, whether people wanna hear it or not. I’m honest to a fault and people hate that. But you? You droop with an sincerity in everything that you say. Before our tag team match, you sat there and told us all to trust you. Despite the fact that you tried to sound so manipulating and so clever when you really aren’t.”

“See, I told you and I told the world that I would have your back during that match. From bell-to-bell, I was ready to stand by you because I knew that we both wanted to get the win. And you couldn’t leave it that way, could you? You had to turn around and say that you wouldn’t do that because it would be too easy. Dripping with sincerity and sweetness. You were trying to appear as if you had principles in standing beside me, but at the same time you were trying to manipulate me into doing something I’d regret.”

“It didn’t work.”

“You are a sarcastic, smug little bitch who likes to project herself as confident. But I see right through you. Your constant contradictions show a true lack of conviction to anything. The only thing you believe in is your desire to get what you think you’re owed. But the problem is that you have a fear of irrelevance. I see it, because I have it too. I told you before that I need people to see that I’m the best. But I’m not afraid to admit to myself that I’m scared of being irrelevant. But you? You can’t admit it. You can’t admit it because you’re not secure enough in yourself to believe in yourself, so instead you have to be this smug piece of shit who drips with lies and sincerity.”

“As I said, all I do is tell the truth. I’m telling you the truth when I say that I’m going to walk down to that ring and do everything I can to cave your skull. I will take every shortcut, I will bend every rule…and I’ll do it with a big shit eating smile on my face because I refuse to allow you to take away my fucking legacy. I refuse to let you stop me from beating the records that are set in front of me. No matter how smug you are, no matter how great you think you are and no matter how many times you try to get onto my skin at the end of the day. Frankie, I’m just looking at doing to you what you wish you could do to everyone else. I’m going to prove to you that your greatest fear is your greatest criticism. And I’m going to make you irrelevant.”

“See you on the cruise.”

Chapter 66: Wants and needs

Reconciling what you want in your life with the realities of life is one of the hardest things you can do as you get older. Some people want to be a millionaire, others want to be an astronaut, some want to have their dream job and some want to break world records. But those don’t always come to fruition. But there are some others that seem to be within reach and more realistic but at the same time seem so far away. Even if you’re physically able to do something, even if there is no real conceivable reason that you wouldn’t be able to that goal can be pulled so far away from you that you reach out with your hands and your fingertips barely scrape it.

I always thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be the best of the best, to show the world that I wasn’t just a poor girl from working-class Norwich England. To show the world that I wasn’t just a punching bag for my father. To show the world that I wasn’t just a woman standing behind a man.

And for the most part, I have lived that dream. I have got everything that I’ve wanted. I’ve been a world champion time and time again. I’ve climbed to the top of every company that I’ve been in. And even now as I am standing on top of the mountain looking down at everyone else scraping and chlorine to get their five seconds of fame against me. I have this hole in my heart that I don’t seem to be able to fill. No amount of success, no amount of championship wins, and shiny trinkets that I buy with all of my match bonuses. It simply doesn’t fill that emptiness.

I take a deep breath, sitting in the kitchen of the beautiful home that Finn and I have put together for ourselves. Finn has been dragged out of the house by Adam Sanders, my brother-in-law. Tasman‘s husband and the father of their beautiful daughter Dawn. One of my nieces that I have been doting upon since she was born. She along with Nova and Luna the twin girls that Amber has have become fixtures in my home much the same way that Kallie has with her son Dax.

But right now I was sitting here holding my niece Dawn in my hands.

Normally the best part about holding children is being able to give them back to their parents. But I smiled slowly and gave Dawn who is now three years old a poke on the nose to which she started giggling. Tasmin made her tea and looked over with a smile. ”You look way too natural doing that”

”Yeah”  and then it happened. You say normally I’m very good at changing my facial expressions to hide how I really feel. A moment where a lint in my eyes suddenly turns and I can throw up a sarcastic expression followed by a roll of my eyes. But this time I failed. The look on my face changed and for a moment sadness washed over me. And it was something that a normal person who knew me wouldn’t let go. But this was my sister. A member of my family. Someone who knew me quite well.

Tasmin tilted her head and stepped back. ”What was that?”

”What?” I turned and put Dawn down letting her run off. I turned back toward my sister and grabbed my cup of coffee, taking a sip and looking over at her. She narrowed her eyes and stepped forward looking at me and studying Me. I was annoyed. Not at her but at myself. Because I had failed in hiding my true feelings. ”Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tasmin raises her eyebrow and clears her throat before taking a sip of her tea and getting ready to have one of those awkward conversations with Me. The ones that I usually try to avoid. ”You know, normally when I tell you that you look natural holding a child you tell me to fuck off or roll your eyes. What’s going on with you?”

I don’t know why I decided to tell the truth. It would’ve been just as easy for me to just flippantly adjust how I was sitting and tell her that she was imagining things. But for whatever reason we started down this rabbit hole of a conversation. ”I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. I see you with Dawn, I see Amber with the girls, and also Kallie with Dax… and I kind of realized that I want a child” I took a deep breath, sipping my coffee again as I stared ahead.

Tasmin cleared her throat and leaned forward ”And how does Finn feel about this?”

I shook my head, that was a part of the conversation that I didn’t want to go near. But I also knew that she was going to ask me that. And the truth was that I didn’t know. I didn’t know how he felt about it. I didn’t know how he would feel about it if I brought it up. I was terrified. ”I don’t know.”

”So… why don’t you talk to him about it?”

”I don’t think I can…” I swallow hard and lean back against the bench behind me. ”After everything he went through with his ex, I just don’t know if I can bring that up. What would happen if I told him I wanted kids and he straightaway told me that he didn’t? That could ruin our relationship. I don’t wanna lose him Tas…”

Tasmin swallows and seems to Jetter and stutter a little before taking a deep breath to ask me a question a question that once it left her lips and went out into the air she regretted but it was one that I think I needed to hear. ”So, you are fine with not having children for the sake of your relationship? Are you sure you can live with that?”

I inhaled sharply, I put my coffee mug down, and fought back. All the tears were pushing their way out. I didn’t want to cry, I wasn’t going to cry. I took all of that sadness and pushed it into a little ball making sure it stayed where it belonged before I nodded slowly and looked at my sister. ”I know how that sounds. But I’m not even sure I want to have a child. That feeling comes and goes. And just because I want something doesn’t mean I should have it Tasmin. Think about it, what kind of mother would I be?”

My question hung in the air even longer than hers. After a few moments, she leaned forward going to say something. ”Kay….you know you would…” She straightened up, and the door swung open as Adam and Finn returned. I looked at her a silent message in my eyes telling her not to bring this up to not only Finn but also her husband. Tasman took a deep breath in and gave me a small knot of assurance.

This wasn’t the time to bring this up. Everything that he was going through, everything that I was going through. It wasn’t the time or the place to be bringing these things up. Major shifts in our relationship and what it could mean. Adam bent down and picked up Dawn smiling as he gave my sister a kiss.. Finn walked over tossing his car keys on the kitchen bench before I smiled and wrapped my arms around his hips, placing my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat. I closed my eyes. But it was still there.

Fuck….I want to be a mom

Waste of our time.

Kayla Richards, the current SCW world bombshells champion slowly smiles. Her long black hair flowing down her shoulders and back as she tilted her head closed her eyes and sniffed the air. She takes a deep inhale before pushing it out and then taking another one before smiling again.

”You smell that? That is the smell of victory. The smell of retribution. The smell of Me proving my fucking point.”

Her eyes spring open and we get to see the deep green and emerald color that she has become known for. Her black eyeliner making her eyes pop as she steps forward and grabs the bombshell championship. She looks at the face plate and slowly drags her fingers across the nameplate tracing the K at the start of her name with her pointer finger.

”Andrea Hernandez tried to beat Me. She tried to destroy me. She likes to think that she came close. In fact, she’ll be the first one to tell each and every one of you that she had Me beaten. She took the bombshell championship away from me. This is true. It is a fact that will go down in history in the record books that anyone can look up and anyone can go and watch the match where it happened till their little hearts burst with happiness and contentment. As I’m sure Andrea is going to be doing in 50 years time as a grey-haired old crone rocking back-and-forth, reminiscing about the good old days when she was relevant and had any sort of power in this business whatsoever.”

“Meanwhile, I accomplished everything I said I was going to. I told the world I was going to take this championship back. And in the elimination chamber, I did that. I then told the world that I was going to beat Andrew Hernandez’s one on one. And I did that. So now with her in my rearview mirror, I can look forward. I can look down that road and see a whole host of new contenders ready willing and waiting to try and take this championship from me.”

“Some are familiar faces who are looking at trying to reclaim their glory. Others are brand new. And on the same night that I dispatched Andrea Hernandez and permanently put her in a box. It seems like the number one contender has been crowned in my future has become clear.”

“The blast from the past tournament came to an end and standing tall was Frankie Holliday. She has come out of nowhere and gone undefeated in the tournament to earn herself a championship match against Me. And I couldn’t be happier. I get to face a woman who is an unknown. Someone who is new and isn’t painted by the failures that some of the others in this company have. I get to face someone who is coming in fresh and could be a new star. And I’m looking forward to it. But it’s a long way until our match. So as we start to plot along towards the next supercard and our inevitable meeting, we have to fill some time.”

She chuckles and shakes her head taking a few steps as she pieces back and forth before throwing the bombshell championship over her shoulder.

”So, what better way to fill some time for two rivals Barling toward a championship match? Put them in a team. So Frankie and I are going to put our differences aside and coexist. How are we going to coexist? After all, I’m such a horrible person and an arrogant bitch and Frankie is this new woman in this company who doesn’t trust anyone. That’s really the narrative we’re going with. How are we going to coexist? Easily. You see what a lot of people don’t tend to realize is that I hate losing. So I’m going to go into this match with all full intentions of doing everything I can to win and that includes doing everything I can to team with Frankie and wrestle in Harmony”

“And from what I’ve seen of Frankie she is someone who also wouldn’t be fond of having a losing mark on her record. So I think it’s safe to assume without Me even talking to her that we are both going to go into this match with the purpose of trying to win and not fuck each other over. Am I right Frankie?”

“Am I correct in assuming that you are going to come into this match and do everything that you possibly can to walk away with your hand held high?”

“I’d like to think so. But, I also know you’re not stupid enough or not even enough to believe that once the match is over it will be best friends and rainbows. I might take the opportunity when the match is done to give you a little tap to show you who’s boss. Or you might take the initiative to come after Me. As long as the bell rings and we’ve won the match, I don’t give a shit what happens afterward. Just know that Frankie. From Bell to Bell I’ll be your best fucking friend. But once it’s over? Then so is our little alliance.”

She leans forward clutching the championship over her shoulder in almost a subconscious effort to keep it close while talking about her number one contender. She takes a deep breath and then refocus on the match at hand.

”Seleana Zdunich. How many times do I have to give you a beating before you realize you don’t belong here anymore? You are a one-time world champion who flew her way to a two-week title range that you have been surfing on for the better part of half a decade. You don’t belong here anymore. Every single time your name goes on a card there is the worst possible outcome for you when it comes to the fans. Apathy. They simply don’t care about you anymore. They don’t cheer for you, they don’t boot at you, all they do is roll their eyes and breeze past you.”

“Every single time you and I step foot in a ring together I leave the winner. Every single time. Just think about that. You can’t beat me. You won’t beat me. And even with help in a tag team match, you can’t even hope to get close. Hell, I don’t need Frankie by my side I’d be able to beat you and your tag team partner. Handicap matches aren’t really my thing but I would be able to get into the ring and beat you both with ease. That might sound arrogant, a little bit cocky, but I know I could do it. Because that’s what you’ve become. A joke. A speed bump. A gatekeeper. And in this case, Canon Folder”

“Why else would you be a match like this Seleana?”

“You’re being used as Canon folder for a match against two women who are much more worthy of being in a main spot than you could ever hope to be. But, you’re welcome. You’re welcome for the small bit of relevancy that I’m giving you in this tag team match. But when all is set and done, I’m going to have another win over you and the sad part is that it doesn’t matter. A win over you and your tag team partner Diamond Caldwell gets me absolutely nothing.”

Kayla shakes her head, a hint of sadness in her eyes as she realizes just how true that statement is.

”Same as beating you Diamond. Or Alexandra or whatever the fuck you wanna call yourself. You came into this company, you are somehow aligned with Crystal and now you’re teaming with Seleana. But first impressions are exactly exactly what they are. First impressions. You had this chance to announce yourself to the world. And while my tag team partner took the ball by the horns when it came to making a first impression and won the blast from the past tournament you came in and properly looked like a complete arsehole losing your match and not even bothering to do any sort of promotional material for it”

“You stayed silent. You walked out to the ring and then promptly got beat down. So here’s the thing diamond. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret when it comes to SCW on how to succeed. If you can’t back up anything that you will say in the future, then do exactly what you’re doing and stay silent. Because you’ll keep your mouth shut you’ll get your ass beat and then you’ll collect your paycheck and go home.”

“But, if you think for one second that you can make a name for yourself in this company you need to be able to run your mouth. How do you think I’ve been able to become what I’ve become? Three-time Internet champion, two-time mixed tag team champion, and two-time bombshell‘s world champion. I have spent more time in this company as a champion than I have not being a champion. From day one when I walked into this company I have been the best of the best and I proved every single time not just by getting in the ring and taking people‘s heads off but also by eviscerating them whenever I open my fucking mouth.”

“And I’m not sure you have what it takes”

“So Frankie and I are going to walk down to that ring and we are going to beat the hell out of both of you. And then when the bell rings and the match is over you two will be forgotten and the real stars will have their time to shine.”

Chapter 64: Past Self

This was freedom.

The last few months had been strange. We had moved away from New York. Bought a house together in Colorado. A huge step for any couple. This was not out of necessity, but was also done because we wanted to take that step. The steps that were taken afterward were not something that I enjoyed. We had friends who moved out here. Kallie and Aiden followed us out here mainly because Kallie was a native. She loved Colorado and was just coming home.

There was always a fear in the back of my mind that I was being followed or watched. So whenever I went anywhere, shopping, or to the gym I would have someone there. One of my sisters, who routinely came to visit. Or. Kallie herself. But this was different. This morning, I woke up, and I didn’t want to go through all of that again. I didn’t want to send a message and wait for someone to be there. I wanted to live my life independently, you get back to being who I was. So I decided I was going to the gym by myself. Alone. I grabbed my bag, I left the house, and I walked two blocks to the little gym that I liked to do cardio in.

And here I was. Running on the treadmill after doing some light weights. Listening to music as I was monitoring my heart. Training in Colorado came with a lot of advantages. Being this high up in elevation guaranteed me having better cardio than anyone else that I was going to get in with. If I could run 4 miles up here while keeping my heart rate normal, I could run circles around anyone in the ring and be basically like a fucking superhero.

But something felt wrong. My entire time here while working out, I had felt like I was being watched. I tried to ignore it. I told myself time and time again that it was just in my head. A side-effect of not going out by myself for so long. Is that something any of you have ever felt? The feeling of eyes being on you and watching your every move? Because that’s what I was feeling right now. I turned, getting off the treadmill and grabbing my bottle of water, as I took a large drink, I felt Somebody burning a look into my back. I whipped around, staring down the hallway, but I saw nothing. My skin was crawling; the sweat that had been pooling down my back from my neck and forehead started to freeze.

I was warm, in the process of cooling down, inside a gym that had heaters on because of the cold air outside. Even as we started getting closer to summer, Colorado was naturally cold. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, taking another sip of water, I put it into my gym bag and started moving towards the lockers. My towel over my shoulders as I was trying to get rid of that cooling down but sweaty sensation.

There was no one else there; it was early morning, and most wouldn’t start coming in until around 9 am. I like to get my workout in before everyone else. To be leaving as the gym regular started turning up. I moved toward my locker, opening it up and taking out my spare clothes, putting them down on the bench. I heard something from around the corner, turning to see there was nothing and nobody there, but I could feel it. I could feel their eyes on me.

Walking down the hallway, I took a deep breath and turned to the corner, expecting to see someone. But there was nothing there. Was I going insane? Was I paranoid? I rolled my eyes and pushed out a deep breath, turning around. I walked right into someone. My eyes were focusing, I thought I was seeing things. That was until I heard his deep booming voice with his Romani accent ”Aye Princess…”

My blood froze. It was Jace. His long hair was tied back in a bun, he was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt that was tucked into a black leather stud belt that was wrapped around a pair of tight jeans. A pair of black boots on his feet as he slid his hands into his pockets. He smiled, trying to act charming. All this did was turn my cold blood that was ice in my veins from fear into a boiling mess of anger. ”What the fuck are you doing here?” he towered over me, stepping forward and putting his hand on one of the lockers above my head, backing me into the cold steel behind.

He leans down, taking a deep breath. Taking in my scent like a predatory animal with its prey. ”Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been waiting to get your loan so we could have a conversation. But for the last few months, you’ve always had someone around you. And I let you believe that we had stopped looking.” Jace leans in closer with a small Smile.

”So? You’ve been stalking me this entire time? We’ve left New York. You won. Finn wanted me to get out of harm's way, and we just want to live our lives. Go take New York go after Dickie and his crew. I’m not a part of this anymore.

Jace couldn’t help but laugh, getting closer to me, so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek and my neck. ”Look at you. Playing Little Miss housewife. Is that really what you want? To be the good little woman for a weak man like Finn? That isn’t you, Kayla. That’s not the woman that you are. You seem to forget, I know who you are. I know exactly what you are capable of, and I just have to ask the question. Does Finn? Remember, you were one of us.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. His words echoed in my head. He was right. Once upon a time, I was one of them. I remembered what it was like. We were a family, a fucked up family. I remembered walking into a local bar. The place that was under the protection of the Ramani. But protection isn’t what you believe it to be. Protection, paying for protection from a group like that, is all about paying them not to wreck your establishment. ”What do you need me to do?”

I remember the words spilling out of my mouth. Standing at the front of the bar. Jase, a much younger version than we see today, stood with his arms pulled over his chest. Wearing a leather biker jacket and camouflage pants, he gave me a small hat on the back before reaching forward and stroking my cheek with his thumb. ”You know our rules when it comes to collecting money. It’s his wife in there. She’s not part of us. She is not someone who will be punished by a male. So I need you to do it. I need you to be the point on this. We’ll be behind you.”

I smiled, I was proud. As stupid as it sounds, I was happy at that moment. I was being trusted. Trusted to take care of business. We walked into the bar. The woman behind was in her mid-40s, with wire-framed glasses on her face. She stepped back, instantly recognising Jason and the others. She started getting upset right away. ”Hey..shhh calm down. You give us what your husband agreed, and there’s not going to be any trouble.”

”No..please. We have tried, but we just don’t have it. We will have it in a week.”

I took a deep breath and shook my head. It was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. It would’ve been so much easier if she had just given us the money. ”See, that’s a problem. You need to give us the money. Now.” I reached around the bar, grabbing hold of her wrist and sliding her forward before grabbing her glasses, ripping them from her face. I slammed them down onto the bar before grabbing her hand and slamming them into the glasses, causing them to break and cut her hand. She screamed. The rest was a blur, but she found the money, handing it to Jase.

We walked out, and Jace was smiling. The others were proud. And I felt like I had accomplished something. But that isn’t me. That isn’t me now, and that wasn’t me then. My eyes spring open, I look over at Jace and shoved him back before shaking my head in anger and frustration. ”Enough. You don’t know me. As much as you believe you do, you just don’t. The Kayla you knew back then was a complete fabrication. I’m happy. I’m happy and you can’t stand it. Stay away from us. Stay away from me.”

Jase just smiled at me. I grabbed my clothes and walked off into the shower. I knew he wouldn’t follow. The doors had opened more people were flooding in. I stood under the hot water. Trying to calm myself down. But I was angry, frustrated, and for the first time in a long time, I was afraid.

True Rivalry

The Angelina Cafe in Paris is beautiful. A wonderful place with some of the best coffee and cakes that anyone could ever want, as well as having some amazing lunch options. In the crowd of native Parisians and obnoxious tourists is a woman sitting alone. Her long black hair flows down as she wears a red and black dress, showing off her figure but also her tattoos. This is, of course, the current SCW world bombshell champion, Kayla Richards.

”The Viking tour ends in Paris. I couldn’t care less about the whole Viking thing. I mean, I come from England, I was born in East Anglia. My family had lived in and around that area for hundreds upon hundreds of years and different generations. Chances are there is some Viking DNA in my ancestry. But I couldn’t care less. Even if I tried. I have been able to come to Paris and what should have been a grand moment where I can walk through that curtain at into the void and defend my championship with my man by my side after having a wonderful week or two in Paris. The romance that could’ve happened.”

“But, because of Alex Jones and that bitch Aaron Asphyxia I don’t get to have that moment. I don’t get to spend two weeks in Paris with the man I love, celebrating being champions, going toward into the void. Do you have any idea how pissed off that has made me? Do you have any idea how angry that has made me?”

“Completely furious.”

“And I took some of that anger out on Harper Mason. Because I could. I got put in the ring with her, and I warned her what was going to happen. Same situation as walking into the elimination chamber, where I warned everyone there what was going to happen. Harper didn’t listen. So I beat the hell out of her and walked out with my hand held high as the winner. Because that’s what I do. Against all of these women who are beneath me, I don’t show them the proper respect, and I do everything I can to destroy them, and Harper is definitely is not on my level.”

“I’m sure that some of you view me as a bully. A monster.”

“The truth is that I can see where that misconception comes from. But I’m a realist. And what is more disrespectful? Going out there and doing everything I can to beat someone and not holding back or patting them on the head and giving them a participation trophy and only going at half speed?? Is that what I should do? Should I go out there against women like Harper Mason and validate their existence by acting like they are on a level that is anywhere near me? That’s not how I work. That’s not how anyone should work. That isn’t how you get better, that isn’t how you become a real champion. That is how you become weak.”

Kayla chuckles and takes a sip of her latte before putting it down and leaning back against the beautifully designed chair that she is sitting on. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking around the streets of Paris.

”Weakness is a disease. Losing is not. Letting that loss get inside you and make you doubt yourself is a weakness. The difference between myself and every single other woman on this roster is that when they lose, they decide to completely ignore it, and it festers and eats away at who they are. They don’t acknowledge the loss, and they don’t acknowledge that they need to get better. I do. I already went over it before I faced Harper, but I told everyone that I was coming for heads. I told everyone that I was coming for that championship, but not one of them was going to be able to step in front of me and stop me.”

“Losses make me stronger. Because when I lose, I come back better. It has happened every single time I have suffered a loss. I come back, I do everything I can to be better, and I end up overcoming those obstacles. I end up avenging those losses. And the first thing you need to do when you lose is acknowledge it. Women like Harper, women like Mercedes Vargas, women like Samantha Marlowe and.Mikah and Jessie Salco, they don’t acknowledge their losses, instead they bury them down deep and they try and move on and ignore them and all that does is belittle themselves and belittle this company and this business.”

“When you get beaten, and you get shoved down, you stand up, you dust yourself off, and you punch that person right in the face.”

Kayla’s expression changes. Her nostrils flare as her eyes burn. There is a certain amount of anger and frustration behind those eyes, mixed with determination as well as a healthy amount of chaos. She takes a deep breath and sits back, returning to her calmer demeanour.

”Now, that brings me to Andrea Hernandez. What is there at this point? It’s funny because I heard what Andrea had to say about her match against Crystal. Some people referred to Andrea and Crystal as a rivalry, and Andrea’s answer was to point out how one-sided it was, and it was never rivalry. And she has a point. Andrea and Crystal don’t have a rivalry because Andrea has done nothing but beat Crystal down and showed that she is a superior professional wrestler. No one can take that away from her. Andrea Hernandez is one of the best women in this company. I’m not going to take that away from her. I’m not going to disagree with that, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you all that I am on another level than Andrea.”

“Truth is, while I never really believe anyone is on my level. Andrea is probably the closest. Andrew is the kind of woman who is always striving to be the best. I respect that. And trust me on this, Andrea, I do respect you. No matter what I say or how you perceive my actions, I do respect you as a professional wrestler. Because you are one of the few people on this planet who can push me. You can consistently push me, and you force me to be a better version of myself. So, no, Crystal is not your rival. But I am.”

“You and I do have a rivalry. But all of your talk in the past about how you don’t agree with how I carry myself and how I conduct myself. That is something I can’t abide when you pull some of the shady shit I’ve ever seen. But unlike me or I will freely admit what I’m about to do, you try and hide it behind a mask of change. You try to tell people that you’ve changed. But you haven’t. Right after I won the elimination chamber, you went out on SCW television and you said that you were sure I would always accept a rematch with you. That I wouldn’t run away.”

“Obviously, you were right, but it was also a sneaky little trick on your part. See if I had had other plans if I wanted to just destroy Aaron asphyxia, you made it impossible for that to happen. Because if I didn’t accept a rematch with you and take that rematch, then you’d be able to go out on television and spew some kind of bullshit that I was afraid of you. So you locked me into having to defend the championship against you.”

“Clever.. underhanded but clever”

Kayla chuckles to herself and finishes her coffee before standing up. She walks out of the cafe, looking back at all the people sitting there who are staring at her, some admiring her tattoos, others turning their noses up.

”But hey, you can be as judgmental as you want about my attitude, but I’m sure you’ll have some kind of witty retort for this talking about how you’ve changed and going through your thought processes. But the other part of it that really annoys me is your complete disregard for the ending of that elimination chamber. You and I in singles matches are one and one. This will be the third singles match that we’re facing each other in, but you have just completely ignored the fact that it came down to you and me at the end of that chamber.”

“I have two wins over you in high-stakes matches, and you have one over me. That is one more than a lot of other people have, and I have given you the respect for that, but don’t think for one second that I’m going to sit here and let you be little what I accomplished at blaze of glory. I got into that ring, and I was the last woman standing in. I became the champion for a second time. I had an amazing championship run, and you ended up failing. I want you to think about that. For all of your talk about being an amazing professional wrestler, you still failed to do it when it counted.”

“I lost to you one-on-one. You became the champion. And instead of waiting for you to come out of that chamber with the title or to lose that title against someone else, I decided I wanted to enter that cage. Instead of waiting for a one-on-one rematch, which I was owed, I put it all on the line in a match that I had no guarantees of winning. So tell me, Andrea, which one of us is the real champion? Which one of us is the better champion?”

“As much as I respect you for what you’ve been able to accomplish in the ring and as much as I know that you and I are great rivals and when all is set and done you will be looked at as one of the only ones who could hold a candle to Me your attitude and your self-righteous nature and the fact you’re a hypocrite annoys the shit out of me. So I’m gonna do everything I can to walk out of our match as the champion. I’m going to prove to everyone that I am the better woman. You can come at me with anything that you want, you can complain about me behind-the-scenes, and you can criticise me in public, but at the end of the day, I have proved myself to be a better champion than you. And it’s on you to prove me wrong now.”