Rebuild All That You’ve Broken
Following Violent Conduct
London, UK
The air was sharp and cold, carrying a dampness that clung to the concrete outside the O2 Arena. London had a way of making the night feel heavier, like it could swallow a man whole if he let it. Miles Kasey leaned against the brick wall of the loading dock, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath. He wasn’t in his ring gear anymore. The dark jeans and black leather jacket he wore gave him the look of someone ready to vanish into the shadows—or perhaps step out of them for good.
The adrenaline from the moment still coursed through his veins, but it wasn’t the kind that left him jittery or unfocused. No, this was something different. Something purer. He could still feel the weight of the SCW World Championship belt in his hands, the one that he held and handed Finn after he went through hell to defeat Kris Ryan. He could still feel the heat from the London crowd roaring as Finn Whelan celebrated yet another triumph. He could still hear the hollow crack of his forearm smashing into Finn’s skull, the Double Edge Sword delivered with surgical precision.
It was as if the arena had stopped breathing in that instant.
He had seen Finn crumble to the mat like a toppled king, the SCW World Championship slipping from his grasp. Miles had to will himself to even look back at the carnage he left behind as he exited the ring. That wasn’t his style. He didn’t gloat or grandstand. He didn’t need to. But the look on Finn’s face made it worth it.
The statement had already been made.
They were in his home, and this time he was going to set those rules that they all love to live by.
The door to the loading dock creaked open behind him, spilling faint yellow light onto the alley. A production assistant hesitated in the doorway, his wide eyes betraying the nervousness etched on his face. He carried Miles’ carry-on bag, holding it out as if it might explode.
“Here,” the assistant stammered. “They... uh, Carter told me to make sure to give this to you. He said he’d be right out.”
Miles glanced over his shoulder, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the assistant’s face. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice low and deliberate. He took the bag with one hand and slung it over his shoulder.
“Are you... okay?” the assistant asked, his tone cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking at all.
Miles let the silence hang between them for a moment, then smirked. “Never better. Do me a favour, mate? Let my husband know to text me when the ride gets here, something tells me it’s not safe to just stick around here.”
Without another word, Miles turned and walked down the alley, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. His boots clicked against the pavement with each step, steady and unrelenting.
Every Wound Will Shape Me
The streets of London were quieter than usual, though Miles wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or if it just felt that way. The further he walked from the O2, the less the echoes of the crowd filled his ears. He imagined the chaos that would be erupting backstage now. The confusion, the anger, the shouting. Finn Whelan’s fury. The fallout would be tremendous, of that he was sure.
The city lights cast long shadows across the pavement, and for the first time in a long time, Miles felt untouchable. Every step he took away from the arena felt like another piece of his own puzzle snapping into place. There was a time when he’d doubted himself, doubted his ability to stand on his own two feet, doubted his worth beyond being another cog in the Wolfslair machine.
That time was over.
And it wasn’t like he had exactly had this plan in place for a long time, in fact he had made up his mind when he was out there with that front row seat to that match that no matter who got that win, he was going to claim that spot. It was absolutely nothing personal. Not Finn, not Kris. But this was something that needed to be done. And done it he had.
As he turned a corner, Miles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. A single message from Carter lit up the screen.
“I’m at the car. People are losing their minds back here. Please tell me you’re ready to go.”
Miles’ lips curled into a small smile as he typed a quick response.
“On my way. Don’t worry, love. Everything’s going exactly as it should.”
He hit send and shoved the phone back into his pocket. His mind drifted back to the match, to the moment he struck Finn down. It wasn’t just about the betrayal, though he knew that was what the world would see. Like it was known, if it was Kris Ryans, the same damn thing would have happened. But to him, it was liberation. Finn Whelan had been untouchable for far too long, holding onto the SCW World Championship like a self-righteous king clutching his crown. Miles didn’t see it as betrayal. He saw it as revolution.
Finn had always demanded the best from him. He wanted Miles to step up, to stop holding back. Well, now he had. And it wasn’t just for Finn—it was for the entire SCW roster.
The cab Carter had ordered sat parked at the edge of the block, headlights glowing faintly. Through the windshield, Miles could see Carter in the backseat, his face illuminated by the blue light of his phone screen. As he approached the car, Carter looked up, his expression a mix of relief and exasperation.
The driver popped the trunk as Miles tossed his bag in, sliding into the backseat beside Carter.
“You really went and did it, didn’t you?” Carter asked, his voice low.
Miles smirked, leaning back against the seat. “Did you expect anything less?”
Carter sighed, rubbing his temples. “No, I suppose not. But you know what you’ve done, right? This isn’t going to end with just Finn.”
“I am aware, love,” Miles replied, his tone steady. “But it had to be done.”
Carter looked at him for a moment, studying his face. “Are you sure about that?”
Miles turned his gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur as the cab pulled away from the curb. “Not like I can go back and change it now, even if I wanted to. But to answer your question, absolutely.”
Later That Night
The hotel room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the heater kicking on. Miles sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at his hands. His knuckles were still red from the night’s events.
He could hear Carter moving around in the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing faintly. Miles tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. The adrenaline had finally started to fade, replaced by a different kind of energy. One that burned low and steady, like a fire that refused to die.
Every word you left unspoken. Rebuild all that you’ve broken.
The lyrics from Throne echoed in his mind, the song playing on repeat somewhere deep in his thoughts. He didn’t need music to hear it—it was etched into his very being now. Every wound, every scar, every moment that had led him here. They had all built this.
His throne.
Carter stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, and gave Miles a long look. “You’re quiet.”
Miles opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “Just thinking.”
“That’s dangerous,” Carter teased, crossing the room to sit beside him.
Miles chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean it, though. Everything’s gonna completely change after tonight.”
“It already has,” Carter said softly. He reached out, placing a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “Just promise me one thing?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t lose yourself in all of this.”
Miles turned to look at him, his expression serious. “Carter, this is the first time in my life, career wise at least, I’ve felt like I’ve found myself. There is gonna be a lot of people that are going to tell you that I would do the same thing to you, but I would never...”
Carter searched his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I know that, babe. Just don’t forget who’s got your back, no matter what happens.”
Miles smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. “I could never forget that.”
The moment passed, and Carter stood, heading toward the bed. Miles stayed where he was, staring out the window at the city beyond.
Tomorrow, the fallout would begin. Finn, Wolfslair, the SCW brass, whoever else had 2 cents to rub together to throw in their opinion—they would all have their say. He knows a few would come for him, one by one.
But they didn’t understand.
Miles wasn’t afraid of them. He was one of them.
The foundation had been laid, the first shot fired. Miles Kasey was no longer content to play by the rules others had written. High Stakes XIV was on the horizon, and the throne he was building would be forged in the fires of chaos.
And when the dust settled, they would all see the truth: every wound, every scar, every battle—they had only made him stronger.
Miles Kasey wasn’t stepping up.
He was taking over.
I’m Harder On Myself Than ANYONE
The dim light of the gym flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows across the space. Miles Kasey had spent countless nights here, hammering away at his weaknesses and fortifying his resolve. His world had become a singular focus: High Stakes XIV.
The fight against Finn Whelan wasn’t just another match. It wasn’t even just personal. It was everything.
Remember the moment you left me alone and broke every promise you ever made…
Miles’ hands tightened around the bar as he lifted, the weight a physical manifestation of the burden he’d carried for months. Finn had opened his home to him, welcomed him back into Wolfslair, only to turn his back when Miles needed him most. Or maybe Finn would say Miles had done the same.
The lines between betrayal and self-preservation had blurred, leaving nothing but raw, unrelenting anger in its wake.
Pain is the only thing I feel; it’s bringing me down…
He could hear Finn’s voice in his head, laced with the venom of every argument they’d had. Every moment of distrust, every glance that said Miles didn’t belong. It had cut deeper than he wanted to admit.
The Fracture
When Miles had stood at ringside as Finn and Kayla lost the SCW Mixed Tag Titles, DESPITE popular opinion, he hadn’t come to interfere. He wasn’t there to sabotage anything. But his mere presence had been enough to fracture the fragile alliance between him and Finn. But apparently Finn felt slighted juuuuust enough to punch Miles in the mouth.
Which even Miles admitted...it was justified.
And Miles had seen it in Finn’s eyes: the fury, the resentment, the disbelief.
Finn had even in his own way, demanded a confrontation, demanded they talk. But when Miles had finally attempted to approached him, it wasn’t on Finn’s terms, and that only made things worse. Finn had ducked, dodged, and deflected—actions Miles saw as weakness.
Fine. If Finn wanted to see him as the villain, Miles would give him the fight he wanted. He always had to be the villain in someone’s story.
But the bitterness didn’t stop there. Alex Jones, the man who had once been his mentor, had driven the knife deeper just a few weeks later when Miles was going out to simply just cheer Carter during his match against Finn. Instead of staying out of it, Alex delivered a brutal kick to Miles’ face, sending a message that Wolfslair was no longer his home.
Every scar will build my throne…
The pain was real, but so was the determination that rose from it. Miles had spent too long being the loyal soldier, the afterthought, the one everyone overlooked.
Not anymore.
And the whispers.....The fucking whispers and reminders followed him everywhere.
“Finn opened his door to you.”
“Finn welcomed you back into Wolfslair.”
“Finn made you.”
It was as if none of them could see that Miles had outgrown being Finn’s protégé, outgrown being a shadow of anyone.
So you can throw me to the wolves; tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack.
Every word, every doubt, every betrayal fueled the fire burning inside him. The hours in the gym weren’t just about preparation—they were about transformation.
Miles was no longer the broken man who had needed saving.
He was something more.
The Conflict Within
But even as the fire burned, there was guilt simmering beneath the surface. Miles couldn’t deny the truth: Finn had been there when he needed someone. Finn had offered him a home, a place to belong when everything else had fallen apart.
And there were moments—fleeting, but there—where Miles wondered if he was the one in the wrong.
I was an ocean, lost in the open, nothing could take the pain away…
He carried that guilt like a scar, a constant reminder of what he had left behind. But guilt wasn’t enough to stop him.
Because this wasn’t about Finn anymore. This wasn’t about Alex, or Wolfslair, or, as much as he loved him, it wasn’t even about Carter.
This was about Miles Kasey.
The week before High Stakes XIV, Miles sat alone in his living room, the Vegas skyline stretching out before him. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on him, but for the first time in months, he didn’t feel crushed by it.
The scars were his strength now. Every betrayal, every doubt, every failure had brought him to this moment. The hidden secret he had that kept him from the ring for over a month and a half, that kept him from being a part of the show in his own home country for in-ring action. Finn Whelan wanted to know what it took for Miles to finally step the fucking up and live to the potential that Finn desperately wanted for him?
....those scars would indeed build his throne.
Sunday, he would step into the ring and face Finn Whelan—the man who had been a brother to him, and the man who now stood in his way.
Miles wasn’t afraid of what came next.
He embraced it.
Sure it was going to look like hell.
Because the man walking into that ring wasn’t the same Miles Kasey who had needed saving.
He was the man who would build his own throne.
The Anchor
But even the strongest of warriors needed an anchor, and for Miles’ was Carter.
The gym was his battlefield, and lately, every session felt like a war he couldn’t afford to lose. The weights, the sweat, the exhaustion—all of it was a means to an end, a way to prepare for High Stakes XIV. Kristjan had him in there every day and he was thankful to the man that was quite literally his best man at his wedding.
Fenris was at his doorstep every morning. Not just for the run, but the gym, the working out in the ring. K was there to work on the submissions, the strikes...the man was so well rounded, he was the best and the worst but what Kristjan said to him in one of their sessions kept him going, “You started this fire, Milo. You want them to take you seriously, then you need to show your whole ass against a prick like Finn.”
That would easily turn into Miles joking that he’s usually not that kind of guy and he and K going another 30 minutes of match prep with Miles cursing the whole way.
The fight with Finn was more than personal—it was a statement. It was about everything that had led him here, everything that had torn him apart and built him back up.
That night, after a brutal training session that had left him aching in places he didn’t even know existed, Miles walked through the door of their shared home in Las Vegas. Every step was heavy, each muscle screaming in protest, but his mind refused to let him stop.
He had to keep going.
But Carter was there waiting for him.
The concern in his husband’s eyes was unmistakable, and it pulled Miles up short. For a moment, he hesitated in the doorway, suddenly aware of the toll the past few weeks had taken on him—physically, emotionally, mentally.
“You’re going to burn yourself out,” Carter said softly, his voice laced with worry. He didn’t move; he didn’t need to. The way he stood, calm but firm, told Miles everything he needed to know. Carter was there—he always was, even when Miles didn’t deserve it.
“I can’t stop,” Miles whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of exhaustion. The words came out rough, strained. “If I stop… if I let up, even for a second…”
Carter’s expression softened, but there was a fierceness in his eyes now—something protective, something steady. He reached out, pulling Miles into his arms and letting the silence between them settle. Carter just slowly helped him to the couch and made sure he sat down. He attempted the gentle but with how heavy Miles felt he sort of just flopped down and groaned. Carter moved quickly to sit down next to him and turned to look at his husband. He never seen Miles this committed even when he was deep in a feud with Austin James Mercer. This was something new.
“You’ll be fine,” Carter interrupted, his hands cupping Miles’ face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You’re already more than enough, Miles. You don’t have to prove that to anyone—not to Finn, not to Alex, not to anyone.”
For a moment, just a moment, Miles let himself believe it. Let himself feel the warmth of Carter’s touch and the safety of his words. He closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion roll off him in waves. Maybe Carter was right. Maybe he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.
Miles just laid down on his husband’s lap and just closed his eyes. But as the quiet settled between them, that familiar, gnawing voice inside him broke through again. The voice that refused to let him rest, refused to let him stop.
"Help me believe it's not the real me… Somebody help me tame this animal..."
The words—lyrics from another song that had haunted him for weeks—flooded his mind. The animal. The part of him that had been forged in pain, in conflict, in rage. He wasn’t sure who he was without it anymore. The anger, the hurt, the desire to be more than just the man who had been left behind—it was all so deeply embedded in him now. It felt like he couldn’t escape it, even if he wanted to.
But Carter was here, grounding him, offering him the calm he desperately needed but didn’t know how to accept.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Carter murmured, his voice a whisper in the darkness of their living room. Miles looked up and even in the shadow he looked at Carter with a wonder. “I’m here, Miles. I’m here with you—every step of the way.”
The words lingered in the air, the weight of them settling deep in Miles’ chest. All the words that certain people had been saying to Carter after everything, he didn’t believe them. He still trusted Miles fully. But even as he closed his eyes again, feeling the steadiness of Carter’s embrace, something inside him shifted.
“You wanna hear something funny?” Miles said, breaking the silence. Carter looked down at him as Miles gave him a bright smile, “Fenris taught me two things. One, I never met somebody who could sweat so much so easily during a sparring match! And two, something about...I don’t know, I’m exhausted...he tends to talk a lot sometimes. I don’t mean to tune him out but the man knows how to work a match."
That caused Carter to laugh out loud, “Nice to know you are taking it all in. But at least you have that big idiot and his thousand pack abs too.”
He had always believed he had to fight this battle on his own. That he had to prove something to Finn, to Alex, to everyone who doubted him. But now, with Carter holding him, the idea that he didn’t have to face it alone felt like a lifeline.
Miles had never been one to lean on anyone, but in that moment, he realized it wasn’t a weakness to let someone else carry a part of the burden. It wasn’t a failure to trust someone with the pieces of him that had been broken, that had been twisted in the fires of ambition and pain.
Carter was his anchor.
The one person who kept him tethered to something real. The one person who reminded him that he didn’t have to prove anything anymore.
The next day, Miles returned to the gym with a renewed sense of purpose. The wolf was alive and well inside him, was still there, still raging, but for the first time, he wasn’t trying to fight it alone. He was the one at Kristjan’s door bright and early for his daily asswhoopin’.
Despite those across the country being pissed off at him, he didn’t have to look far for that support system.
Beat me black and blue
Every wound will shape me
Every scar will build my throne
The air is thin and crisp in the Santa Catalina Mountains, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting deep shadows over the rugged mountainside. Miles stands alone at the edge of a cliff, staring out at the vast, rocky expanse. His breaths are steady, but his mind is a storm. The Tucson skyline flickers far below, and the only sound is the occasional rustling of wind through the dry desert brush. The place is silent, but Miles' thoughts roar inside his head.
He’s come here for a reason—he needs to confront his own demons before he steps into the ring with Finn at High Stakes. There’s so much at stake here. His career. His future. His destiny. He can't afford to let doubt linger.
He takes a deep breath, looks at the setting sun, and begins to speak, as if he’s addressing Finn directly—even though no one else is around. It’s a monologue for the ages, a man finally at peace with his own ambition, knowing that he must cut through the noise and claim what’s his.
Miles stood there with a sneer, full of contempt in his voice, "You wanted me to step up, Finn. You begged for it. You sat there, a multi-time champion, talking down to me like you were some kind of god in this company. You said, ‘Bring your best,’ like you were testing me. Like you needed me to prove myself to you.
And now that I’ve finally taken the bait, you’re sitting there like some little boy who made a mistake. You wanted me to come for you? You asked for this. And now you’re whining about it? Crying about the fact that you got exactly what you asked for?”
A pause for dramatic effect, of course, and he could taste the bitterness dripping from his tongue, “This was never personal for me. It was business, Finn. It was always about proving something. About showing everyone that I belong. You thought you could keep me in the shadows of your glory, that I’d always be the second-rate kid. But here's the thing you don't understand—I'm not afraid to get dirty. I never have been. And when I finally found my voice, when I finally stepped up, you couldn’t handle it.
You thought you knew what I was capable of, but you had no idea. You didn’t just wake up a monster, Finn. You became one, by beating down every single person in your path. You played the game. You played it well. But here’s the difference between us—you’re a relic, a washed-up Caesar, holding onto power by any means necessary.
And I’m the one who’s going to take it all from you.”
Miles just scoffs, and begins to frantically pacing, his tone turning colder,
“You wanted to see what I was made of? You’ve seen it now. I’m not some underdog looking for a handout. I’m not some hopeful rookie scrambling for scraps. I’m the future. I’m the SCW World Champion waiting to happen. The title’s always been mine, Finn. And I’m done waiting for you to fall down on your own simply because you were waiting for me to go ‘Pretty please.’ like some sort’ve good little boy. I’m not here to be your sidekick. I’m not here to be your backup plan.
You wanted me to play by your rules, but that’s not how this works. I’ve pissed you off because I am the one that called the shot and it was right at your head. I’ve been holding back for months, watching as you ran your mouth, listening to your little sob stories about how the world owes you something. Newsflash, Finn: nobody owes you anything. You’ve been living off the past for far too long.”
Miles' voice only grows more intense with every moment, his voice almost echoing through the range, “I’m not going to let you continue to drag SCW down with your broken promises and your lack of vision. You had your time—now it’s mine. You used to be the face of this company, the one who carried it on his back. But you’ve turned into a tyrant, a shell of the man you used to be. And I love you, Finn, I do. I respect what you’ve done for this business. But you’re holding the rest of us back. You’ve become the very thing you used to hate. You’re the Caesar—comfortable, complacent, thinking your power’s untouchable.
But just like Caesar, you’re about to find out that it’s all over. I am the one who’s going to take that power. Not because I hate you, but because I love this company more than you ever will. This was never about you and me. It was about SCW. It was about bringing the future to the present. And the future is me, Finn.
So yeah, you can keep crying about how I went too far. You can keep telling yourself you were just trying to protect your precious title, your legacy. But in the end, I’m the one who’ll walk out of High Stakes as the SCW World Champion, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
His voice sharpens with finality, “What’s crazy is I’ve already won, Finn. I won the minute I stepped up and said that I will no longer be your personal punching bag. I don’t care that Alex drew the line in the sand, I really don’t care that Kayla hates me a little bit more, because lets face it, if you’re not a skinny emo prick, she doesn’t give a fuck about you anyways, and she’s really not my type. This is my personal pledge and a standing to you and for everyone that came before me. When I finish you off, and probably throw you back on the shelf for a little while like you tend to do, the world will know that I am the one who was always meant to sit at the top. You really should’ve never asked me to step up, mate. You really should’ve known better. And now, you’re gonna pay the price. Hell, we probably both are going to lose a little bit of ourselves in this. We’re probably going to bleed and well we all know I have no problem with that. Because when the dust settles, when it’s all settled in the wounds and festering there to be infected even further into our souls, there will only room for one of us at the top. And I am taking what’s mine. I’m taking my throne."
Miles, with a fierce determination and grit, takes one last look at the view below and then walks away, his footsteps echoing in the desert silence. The final words hang in the air like a promise that only one of them will walk out victorious at High Stakes.
