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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honest,” he corrected.

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

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

“Five years,” Bella said softly.

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

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

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

“You seem lighter,” he said finally.

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

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

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

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

He noticed, of course he did.

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

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

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

Mal smiled quietly.

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

His thumb brushed her knuckles.

“And that scares you,” he said.

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

Another breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” she murmured.

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

She snorted, "You’re impossible.”

“You married me.”

“Questionable decision.”

“Five years says otherwise.”

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

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

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

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

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

Bella’s phone buzzed.

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

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

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

Bella stopped dead on the sidewalk.

“Oh my god...” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

She swallowed hard.

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

He didn’t hesitate. Not even a breath.

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

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

She gripped Mal’s arm tight, steadying herself.

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

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

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

Bella didn’t look back.

Las Vegas was waiting.

And now they had to run toward it.


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

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

They hadn’t been.

And that was precisely why Bella Madison came here.

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

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

“Kayla Richards.”

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

“You made this so fucking personal.”

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

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

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

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

A wry smile tugged at her lip.

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

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

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

Her head tilted slowly.

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

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

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

She rolled her shoulders back, the leather creaking.

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

Her eyes hardened.

“I’m disappointed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bella’s jaw flexed.

“I almost pity you...almost.”

Almost.

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

She pointed behind her to the graveyard of fallen giants.

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

Her lips curled, the start of a dangerous smile.

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

Bella stepped closer, shadows slicing across her face.

“Let’s talk about legacy then.”

Her voice dropped, low and razor-sharp.

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

She inhaled.

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

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

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

Bella stepped into the glow of a broken neon heart.

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

Her voice sharpened, every syllable a cut.

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

The breeze stirred her hair.

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

She took a deep breath, steady and resolved.

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

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

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

Bella’s eyes were flat, steady, cold.

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

She lifted the crown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bella’s voice fell to a whisper.

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

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

The last line drifted in the twilight behind her:

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

And then she was gone.