On building a future
Calaway Estate
Dallas, Texas
The low hum of the central A/C mixed with the steady rhythm of sneakers hitting the mat. The private gym at Alexandra’s estate was quiet except for the sounds of movement — rapid footwork, the occasional sharp breath, and the clean, crisp slap of tape-wrapped hands against pads. Alexandra was working at her usual relentless pace. LJ, sitting on the edge of the ring apron, water bottle in hand, watched her with a smirk. He’d seen that intensity countless times — on TV, in the gym, across dinner tables when she was planning her next move. But this was different. They were days away from stepping into the ring together for the first time, and everything felt just a little more… electric.
“You know,” he finally said, “I think Song’s going to try and goad you early. Get in your head.”
Alexandra didn’t stop her combination — jab, elbow, spin kick into a grounded stomp. Fluid, aggressive, precise.
“Let her try,” she replied. “She doesn’t know what’s already in there.”
LJ chuckled and took a long sip. “That’s the part that scares me.”
She walked over to him, grabbing her own water bottle and towel. Her ponytail was frayed at the edges, sweat trickling down her spine. “Scared already? That’s not how I imagined this conversation going.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, gazing up at her. “Nah, I’m not scared of the match. I’m scared of how good we’re gonna look out there.”
That earned a small laugh from her, soft and genuine. “You’ve got jokes.”
“Always,” LJ said, then his expression shifted, more thoughtful. “But real talk? I’ve never been more ready. Not just for a fight — for this one. With you.”
Alexandra leaned beside him on the ring apron, their shoulders brushing. The familiar comfort of his presence didn’t dull the edge of her thoughts, but it anchored her. “Do you ever think about how weird it is that it took us this long?” she asked quietly.
“To team up?” He shrugged.
She nodded. “We’ve danced around it for a year. And now it’s here. First match together, first time letting the world see us not just as a couple, but in sync.”
LJ glanced down at his hands. “There were good reasons we waited. Didn’t want people to say you were carrying me. Or I was riding your momentum.”
“Yeah,” Alexandra said. “I remember.”
There had been talks — whispered, second-guessed. Concerns about image, politics, balance. Their relationship had thrived behind the scenes while they both tore through their respective divisions, never letting the world see them side by side between the ropes. Until now.
“This match changes things.” she said.
“It defines things,” he replied. “We’re not just lovers teaming up for a promo moment. We’re gonna show them we’re dangerous together. Not some PR couple — a goddamn force.”
She smiled at that. “That’s the goal.”
They both fell into a quiet beat of reflection. The sunset poured golden light through the narrow windows, casting a soft glow across the gym floor. It made the space feel warmer, more intimate, less like a battlefield, more like home.
Alexandra turned toward him, resting her arms behind her on the apron. “How do you want to play it?”
“In the match?” She nodded. “Hard tags, fast switches,” LJ said, shifting gears. “I say we keep them guessing. You start. I know you’ll bait Song right out of the gate. Let Justin get frustrated that he can’t touch you, then tag me in and let me brawl with him.”
“You know he’ll go stiff.” She bit her lip.
“Considering that I had a boxing match with my own brother without hesitation, so will I.” He smirked.
She grinned. “Just don’t let him draw you out of position. He’ll want to get you chasing.”
LJ nodded, serious again. “And when he does, you stay fresh. I’ll eat the first wave.”
Alexandra looked at him, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’re not protecting me.”
He met her gaze. “No. I’m protecting us. There’s a difference.”
She considered that and eventually accepted it. “I’ve fought for a lot of things,” she said. “Titles. Respect. Power. This time? It’s different.”
“I know,” LJ said. “Because you’re not just fighting for yourself.”
They sat there for another few minutes, tension leaving their bodies in quiet waves. It felt good — not just the training, but the calm that followed. The knowing. That they were entering the ring stronger because of what they had, not in spite of it.
Eventually, Alexandra stood and walked to the corner where her phone rested on a bench. She picked it up, thumbed through a few unread messages, then set it back down, face-down this time.
LJ noticed the shift in her expression. “Something up?” She hesitated. He sat forward. “Angel?”
She exhaled slowly. “It’s not about the match.”
“Alright,” he said gently. “Then what is it?”
She didn’t turn toward him right away. Instead, she stayed facing the window, her arms crossing in front of her chest, defensive out of habit more than needed.
“It was something Miles said.” she admitted.
LJ’s face hardened a little. “When?”
“At the Queen for a Day announcement.”
He stood up now, slower, walking toward her. “What’d he say?”
Alexandra finally looked at him. Her voice was calm, measured — the way it always was when something actually cut deeper than she’d admit. “He bitched my ass out for how I booked the match with Artie. Then, just before walking away, he said, ‘Tell my brother I said hi — since you see him more than I do.’” Her voice flattened, mocking the nonchalance. “I understand his displeasure, but that last part seemed like a slight.”
LJ’s jaw clenched.
“I laughed it off or rather, I tried to.” she continued. “Everyone was watching. I couldn’t let it land, not in public. But it did.”
He took a step closer, his voice low. “Love…”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just Miles being Miles. It was calculated. It’s like he wanted to land a body shot, knowing I wouldn’t fight him on it. Out of love and respect.”
LJ looked away, anger burning just beneath the surface. “Well love, Artie is his friend and someone that he and Fenris have been training.”
“I understand that. But it brought up some painful thoughts.” Alexandra said, eyes steady. “Because I’ve been thinking about it. Wondering if… I’m in the way.”
“You’re not, Angel.” LJ said immediately, forcefully.
“I know,” she said again, quieter. “But it made me question. Just for a second.”
He stepped right up to her now, closing the space. His hand found her chin, lifting it gently so she’d look at him “You are not the reason I’m distant from Miles,” he said. “I’ve just been busy, focusing on getting better, on my career. On the choice of Law school. On living a life outside of his shadow.”
She searched his face, needing to believe it.
“I live here because I want to,” he continued. “I train with you because you make me better. I love you, Angel. You can’t let his anger get to you.”
Alexandra blinked once, then leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner. I didn’t want it to cloud what we’re building for this match.”
He held her face in both hands now. “It’s not a cloud. It’s a fire. Let it burn and let’s use it.”
She smiled — not out of amusement, but relief. “You always say the right thing at the exact right moment. I hate how good you are at that.”
He laughed softly. “It’s a gift.”
“I love you too,” she said, the words soft but solid.
LJ kissed her, slow and grounding. Then, pulling back just an inch, he murmured, “Let’s go make some noise, Love.” Causing her to chuckle.
They stood in the dim light of the gym, the world outside quiet, the fight ahead still waiting. But inside them — in their bones, in their connection, in their fists — the storm was already rolling.
Together.
Bond Stronger than Distance
DFW Airport
Dallas, Texas
The camera feed buzzed to life on Alexandra’s Twitter livestream, her face filling the screen. No filter. No glamour lighting. Just her, framed by the distant hum of DFW Airport behind her — polished floors, dull announcements, the occasional rolling suitcase. She wore a pair of dark aviators, a black hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to her elbows, and her hair pulled back in a clean, tight braid. Her expression? Cool. Collected. But you could still see the tension in her jaw, the fire in her stare. The stream kicked off with no preamble.
“Just dropped LJ off at his gate,” she said flatly, her voice calm but laced with edge. “He’s flying out ahead of me to see his brother before we meet up in Grand Junction.”
She paused for a breath, eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned a little closer toward the camera. “Which means I’ve got a little time to sit with some thoughts. And since this place has decent Wi-Fi and half decent iced coffee, I figured — what better time to address the elephant in the room.”
A beat.
“Song.” She didn’t spit the name — didn’t need to. She said it like someone laying a playing card flat on a table. Unbothered. Certain. “Every single time we’ve been in the ring together, the same result follows. You come in with a chip on your shoulder, thinking you’re the one to finally shut me down… and I walk out with my hand raised.”
A small, humorless smirk curled at the corner of her lips. “And don’t act like you’ve forgotten. Because I haven’t. I remember every bell, every stare-down, every attempt you made to make a name off mine. And I remember how each time, you fell short.”
She hated to call her out on that, but it was the truth. “The truth hurts I know, but let’s not sugarcoat it, darling.” She shifted the phone slightly, tucking it into her palm as she started walking through the terminal, the camera now bouncing gently with each step. “This match in Grand Junction? You want to make it different. You’ve got Justin Smith by your side now. You think that’s your difference-maker. Your key to finally tipping the scale. Let me save you some suspense — it’s not.”
Her voice stayed steady, but there was no mistaking the conviction behind it. “See, I’ve spent the past year building something real with LJ. Not just a relationship. Not just a connection. We’ve been training, pushing each other harder than anyone on your roster could understand. We’ve fought through things that would break most. This isn’t just our first match as a couple. This is a declaration.”
She stopped walking now, turning the camera back on herself, face taking up most of the frame, eyes cold, expression sharp. “You can throw everything you’ve got at us. You can run highlight reels and call yourselves contenders. You can talk about experience or legacy or hunger. But here’s the truth you don’t want to admit…”
She tilted her head slightly, voice dropping lower. “You’ve never beaten me. And you’re not going to start now.” She held that gaze for a long moment before giving a slow, confident nod. “I believe in LJ. I believe in what we bring as a team. You and Justin? You’re stepping in as individuals trying to click. We’re stepping in already locked. Ready. Tight.” Another small smirk, this one with a touch more heat behind it.
“I’m not just aiming to win, Song. I’m gunning for it. I’m stepping into Grand Junction with one mission — to remind you, them, and my doubters, just who I am, and to make sure the whole damn division understands that we’re not just a threat. We’re the standard.” She glanced briefly toward the overhead screen showing departure gates, then back at the camera. “When it comes to LJ, let’s face it, you didn’t pull a good card with your tag partner. But I won’t fault you for that dear Song. Justin Smith will let you down, accept the truth now, before it's too late.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Then, just before ending the stream, she added with a calm, venom-laced finality. “Try not to waste my time.”
The screen cut to black.
The Edge of something Epic
Cold Shivers Point
Grand Junction, Colorado
The car ride was quiet at first, but Alexandra eventually broke the silence, her voice soft and steady, careful not to disturb the calm that wrapped around them like the fading daylight. “Have you thought about how this match... it’s more than just a fight? Like, it’s the first real test for us as a team.” She glanced over at LJ, who kept his eyes on the road, fingers steady on the wheel.
He gave a small nod, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. No words yet.
She let the thought settle between them, then continued, “After a year of doing this, wrestling, training, traveling back and forth from Dallas to Vegas together, this is the moment where everything comes together, or it doesn’t. You know?”
LJ’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, warm and sure. “We’ve been ready for it longer than you think love.”
She smiled then, a little softer. “Yeah. But still... there’s nerves. It’s like knowing you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You don’t fall, but it doesn’t mean you’re not scared.”
He reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not scared. Not when I’m with you.”
Alexandra’s eyes met his, her own steady but shimmering with a quiet vulnerability. “That’s why I needed you here. Not just in the ring. But right here, now, at this moment.”
LJ’s hand rested lightly on her thigh. “Always, my angel.” He squeezed her thigh a bit.
The car rounded a bend, and the canyons closed in closer, the shadows deepening. Alexandra sighed, her breath catching on the beauty and the pressure all at once. “Justin and Song... they’re good. But they don’t know us. They don’t know what it’s like to fight alongside someone who’s also your home. It’s true that I’ve faced Song before, but never with you by my side.”
He squeezed her leg, affirming every word. “They’re about to find out.”
The silence returned then, but it wasn’t empty. It was full, full of everything unsaid, everything understood, and everything they would face together. When they arrived, Alexandra didn’t step out immediately. She sat still, letting her pulse settle into the hum of the earth beneath them. Finally, she opened the door. They climbed the short trail in silence. Alexandra in her fitted black jacket and leggings, boots crunching gravel. LJ beside her, a looming shadow of stillness and presence. When they reached the overlook, the world opened up.
The sun was beginning its descent, spilling gold across the horizon. The cliffs stretched endlessly, every curve of rock a thousand years in the making. It was all so impossibly still. Alexandra exhaled. She turned and faced the camera they had mounted themselves, set to record in ultra-wide. No crew. No noise. Just nature, power, and purpose. LJ stood just behind her, to the right. Arms folded. Eyes hidden behind shades. His stance said everything: I am here. I am with her. I am listening. Alexandra stepped forward.
“There’s something about standing on the edge of the world that makes everything simpler.” Her voice was calm, not distant. Sharp without being angry. It didn’t echo against the canyon walls—it didn’t need to. It carried its own gravity. “In a few nights, we step into the ring for our first match as a team. As a couple. A year in the making. A year of building, of grinding, of knowing exactly what this moment means.”
She let the wind touch her face. It played with the strands of her hair. “Justin Smith. Song. I hope you're listening. I hope you're ready. Because this isn't just a match. This is a statement.” Her expression shifted, subtly. From composed to concentrated.
“Justin. You walk into that ring like you own the canvas. Like the ropes bend for you. You’ve got this aura about you, like everything you touch becomes part of your legacy. And in many ways? That’s true. You’re calculated. You’re smart. You’re dangerous.” She nodded once. “But you’re also comfortable. Too comfortable. You’re not preparing for a match, you’re preparing for another chapter. Another footnote to add to your career. That complacency? It’s going to eat you alive when the bell rings.”
She paused for a breath, grounding herself in the moment. “Because LJ and I? We don’t step into that ring thinking about what people will say afterward. We step in knowing what we need to say during. And that message? It’s going to be written in broken rhythms, fast tags, and the kind of synchronicity that no amount of tape study can prepare you for.”
She walked toward the edge a little further. “And Song... I’ll give you credit. You want to rise. I see it. I feel it. You carry that heat like you’re ready to explode at any moment. But there’s a difference between ambition and understanding. Between wanting the spotlight and knowing how to hold it.”
She paused again, breath steady and eyes unwavering. “You targeted me. You chose me. Thought I was the statement to make. The obstacle to overcome. You looked at me and thought, ‘That’s the mark. That’s the moment.’” Her lips curved into something colder than a smile. “You should have aimed lower.”
Another breeze swept past. Her hair brushed across her cheeks as she turned back toward the camera. “You’re not walking into a highlight reel. You’re walking into a consequence.”
She extended a hand behind her, palm open, and LJ took it. One simple connection. Nothing flashy. But undeniably present. “This right here? This isn’t chemistry. This is creation. You are looking at two people who have built something stronger than tag ropes and arena lights. We don’t just know each other’s timing. We know each other’s pain tolerance. Each other’s tells. We know how to move as one, and strike as two.”
She dropped his hand gently, stepping forward again. “We have trained side by side, bled side by side, fought battles outside the ring that would bury most. We didn’t come together because it was convenient. We came together because it was unavoidable.”
The sky behind her began to change hues. Golden bleeding into purple. “I know what people are whispering. That it’s our first time teaming up. That maybe there’s cracks in this foundation waiting to be split open the second things get hard.” She leaned in slightly. “There are no cracks. There is only pressure. And pressure makes diamonds.”
She gave the moment its space. Then continued. “So, Justin. Song. I hope you bring your best. I hope you fight like your reputations depend on it. Because for us? This isn’t about reputation. This is about arrival.”
She turned slightly toward LJ now, her voice softening without losing weight. “We didn’t wait a year to debut. We waited a year to strike.” Turning back. “You wanted to test us. What you’re going to get instead is an unveiling. The first glimpse at something that doesn’t break. Doesn’t buckle. Doesn’t back down.”
Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re not facing Alexandra and LJ. You’re facing every moment we spent preparing for this. You’re facing two people who know exactly what they mean to each other, and exactly what they can do together.” She spread her arms for a moment, as if presenting the vast canyon behind her. “So when we walk into that arena, remember this moment. Remember what stood behind me. Not just the cliffs or the wind or the gold-stained sky. But what he represents behind me.”
She closed the distance to the camera now, voice low, certain. “He is the mountain at my back. And I am the fire in front of him.” Her final line cut through the air like a blade. “We’re not coming to prove we belong. We’re coming to remind you why you don’t.”
FADE OUT.
