Outside Dr. Delacore’s Office
Las Vegas, Nevada
The door to Dr. Delacore’s office closed softly behind them and Miles didn’t move right away. In fact he kept a grip on the door handle that was hard enough that had he pulled at that moment, he would have owed the good doc a new handle or even a new door with every bit of anger he was feeling.
The hallway outside felt brighter than the room they had just left, too bright, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. The world outside the office felt wrong somehow, like it had no business continuing normally after what had just happened in that room.
Carter’s hand was still wrapped around his wrist. It was not playful like he wished it was, nor was it casual like they would do to one another to keep the other from spending too much on one of their shopping sprees. Instead it was tight, like his body hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that the memory was over.
Miles turned his hand slowly and threaded their fingers together, "Hey love,” he said softly. He knew his voice, his accent would bring him out of it. Carter looked at him and then he blinked like he was still half inside the memory. His face was pale, a thin sheen of sweat still clinging to his temples. Miles felt something deep in his chest twist in his whole heart, “Easy,” Miles murmured, "We’re done for today.”
Carter nodded once, but his eyes stayed unfocused for a second too long.
It was at this point Miles forced himself to breathe.
‘Lazarus.’
The name echoed in his head like a gunshot in an empty cathedral. For weeks Miles had imagined a hundred possibilities. He pictured a stranger or a stalker. Someone obsessed with Carter from afar.
But Lazarus wasn’t some faceless threat. In fact, it honestly should have been the FIRST guess but it had been quiet for over a year. In fact the last time he recalled seeing the son of a bitch, was on the Sun Princess, shortly after their wedding.
A snake that had somehow slithered his way onboard, a man Miles had already warned once. Back then he had Laz shoved against the wall and told him flat out that he would make him vanish....and every single instinct wanted to do just that.
Instead the husbands walked slowly down the hallway together, Carter leaning slightly closer than usual, their shoulders brushing. When they stepped outside the building, the Vegas sun hit them immediately. Miles’ instincts kicked in without thinking, his eyes swept the parking lot. Looking at all the cars any possible shadows. From there it was reflections in glass. From anyone lingering too long or anyone watching them. He hated that this had become automatic.
They reached the car before Carter slowed to a stop beside the passenger door. For a moment he just stared down at the pavement.
Miles stepped closer to him, “You alright?” he asked quietly.
Carter exhaled slowly, "I remember the eyes,” he said and Miles didn’t interrupt, “I remember the shape in the mirror,” Carter continued, voice low, "The way it moved behind me.”
Miles’ pulse jumped in his throat.
He stayed steady anyway.
“And it was him,” Carter said with his voice barely carried above the hum of traffic.
Miles’ eyes softened, “I know.”
Carter shook his head once.
“No, I mean I know now.” He looked up at Miles, "It wasn’t my brain filling in blanks.”
His voice trembled slightly, "I saw him.”
Miles felt something settle in his chest. The worst part of the unknown was gone. Now there was a face attached to it. Miles rested a hand against the back of Carter’s neck, thumb brushing lightly against his hairline, "You did good in there,” he said quietly.
Carter huffed weakly, "I threw up in a therapist’s office.”
Miles shrugged, "I mean I’m sure she’s used to that with us. I’ve also seen worse reactions after my matches.”
That earned the faintest ghost of a smile. Miles opened the passenger door for him. Carter eased into the seat slowly, exhaustion finally catching up with the adrenaline. Miles lingered for a second before closing the door. His gaze moved across the parking lot again. Everything looked normal, cars pulling in and out, people walking past.
Nothing unusual but something had changed. Miles now knew the name of the man who had nearly destroyed their lives and that name brought something else back with it.
Salt air.
The low hum of the ocean beneath the cruise ship.
“LET ME GO!” Laz screamed out, struggling against the weight of the arm that Miles placed on the back of the neck and managed to only get spun around, pushed back against the wall again hard and this time Miles hand gripped his neck and pulled his arm back ready to strike.
“You about done?”
“I said let me go.” Laz spit out in that snake like manner but he couldn’t budge.
“You have a lot of balls showing up here. Carter told me everything and after all this time I didn’t think you had it in you, asshole.” Miles made sure to squeeze just a little bit to make sure Laz felt his wedding hand on his left hand, “That ring you feel, that tells you all you need to know. If I didn’t think that there was someone out there that would actually miss you, I would yeet you off the side of the ship and into the ocean and let the fish have at you. You lost, Laz, you lost the minute you raised your hand to him a long time ago. I showed him what it’s like to be really loved and cherished just like you should have. I’m going to tell you this, one last time, you stay away from us. You stay away from my husband. You find a way off this ship and you never look back and if I catch you EVER around us again, you will vanish without a trace. Do I make myself clear?”
There was no shouting and no theatrics. Just a deadly promise and Lazarus had seen the truth in his eyes. Miles had watched the bravado drain out of the man’s face. He had believed him. Miles had let him go after that because the message had been delivered.
Because Carter deserved peace, because the past was supposed to stay buried.
The memory snapped away as Miles slid into the driver’s seat. He started the engine. For a moment neither of them spoke. Vegas traffic flowed around them as Miles pulled onto the road. Carter leaned his head back against the seat.
“You’re thinking about the cruise,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question. Miles exhaled through his nose, "Hard not to.”
Silence filled the car for a few more moment, with whatever station that was on the radio playing softly, “I thought he believed you,” Carter said.
Miles let out a humorless breath, "So did I.”
Carter turned his head slightly toward him, "You couldn’t have known.”
Miles didn’t answer because a darker thought had already taken root in his mind. He should have known and that was the fucking problem. Men like Lazarus didn’t stop because someone warned them.
They stopped when someone made them.
The light ahead turned green and Miles pressed the gas. As the car moved forward through the city, his voice was calm when he finally spoke again...too calm, “Next time,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the road ahead, “...I won’t be giving warnings.”
-----------
Later That Night
Las Vegas, Nevada
The gym was nearly empty. The kind of late-night quiet where the only sounds were the dull thud of gloves against leather and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Miles stood in front of the heavy bag, shoulders slick with sweat, hands wrapped tight. He wasn’t hitting the bag like a man training.
He was hitting it like a man trying to drown out his own thoughts.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The bag swung violently on its chain, creaking with each impact. Miles didn’t stop. He barely noticed when the door opened behind him but he knew the footsteps. He always did.
“Are you sure it was him?”
Miles’ fists slowed then stopped. He let the bag swing away from him before turning slightly, pulling one glove off with his teeth. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath. LJ leaned against the wall near the entrance, arms folded across his chest, watching him carefully.
Miles wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, "Carter recognized the eyes,” he said quietly, "If ANYONE would know those eyes...it would be him. Trust me, it was him.”
LJ didn’t speak right away. He just nodded once, like he was fitting a puzzle piece into place, "That son of a bitch has a death wish,” LJ muttered.
Miles let out a humorless breath, "Apparently.”
The bag swung slowly between them, creaking as it settled. LJ pushed off the wall and walked closer, eyeing the bag.
“You’re going to kill that thing before Blaze of Glory,” he said.
Miles shrugged, "Wouldn’t be the first piece of equipment I’ve destroyed.”
LJ huffed a small laugh at that, but the humor faded quickly. He studied his brother’s face, "Mate,” LJ said quietly, “I know that look.”
Miles flexed his wrapped hands, "Do you?”
“Yeah,” LJ replied, "I do.”
Silence settled between them, because LJ knew. Of all the people in the world who understood what Miles was capable of when pushed far enough...
It was him. Their father had made sure of that. A low-level thug with big ambitions and very little patience. The kind of man who taught his sons early that survival meant one thing: don’t get caught lacking.
Miles had learned the lesson a little too well. Back then it wasn’t about being a good person, it was about not getting your teeth knocked out on the street, don’t start fights, but if someone came after your family?
You finished them.
And sometimes...You did things you never talked about again.
LJ had been younger when it all happened but he knew enough.
Miles had filled in the rest later: The chav years. The scraps. The nights that blurred together into survival.
If it hadn’t been for the people who dragged Miles out of that life, trainers, mentors, the wrestling world itself, who knew where he would’ve ended up. Hell would be the least of his concern
The old man that pulled his ass off the street and into that rusty busted down gym, used to quote Kingsman like it was gospel, “Manners maketh man.”
And then he’d laugh about the time that same old man nearly recreated that pub scene in real life to save him from getting his ass kicked.
Minus the fancy editing, and LJ still wasn’t entirely convinced he had been joking.
Miles sat down on the bench, elbows resting on his knees, For a moment he just stared at the floor.
“I know what I’ll do if I see him,” Miles admitted quietly, LJ didn’t interrupt, "That’s the problem.”
Miles rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, "All those years trying to be better... trying to leave that version of me behind...And he comes back and suddenly it’s all right there again.”
LJ tilted his head slightly, "Frightens you, doesn’t it.”
Miles looked up, "Yeah.”
There was no bravado in the answer, jJust honesty, "Because I know exactly how far I’d go,” Miles said, "And I don’t know if I’d stop once I pull that particular switch.”
The gym lights buzzed softly above them. LJ leaned against the rack beside the bench, "You know what the difference is between then and now?” Miles didn’t answer so LJ did, “You’ve got something to lose now.”
LJ nodded toward him, "Back then you were just fighting to survive. Now you’re fighting for people that you honestly and whole heartedly love with every inch of your whole being.”
Miles thought about Carter, and about Kevin. About the life they’d managed to build together in Vegas. It was about how easily it could’ve been taken away.
LJ folded his arms, "Sometimes,” he said slowly, “you’ve got to put yourself back in that headspace to get what you really want.”
Miles frowned slightly, "Meaning?”
LJ smirked faintly, "Meaning don’t pretend that version of you never existed.” He gestured toward the heavy bag, "That bastard is part of you. Always will be.”
Miles looked down at his wrapped hands.
“You don’t get rid of him,” LJ continued, "You just learn when to let him out and right now,” LJ added, “You’ve got two reasons.”
Miles raised an eyebrow.
“First one,” LJ said, counting on his fingers, “is Lazarus.”
The name hung heavy in the air.
“And the second,” LJ continued with a grin, “is Alex Jones.”
Miles snorted quietly as LJ’s grin widened, "You want that Internet Championship back, don’t you?”
Miles didn’t hesitate, "More than anything.”
“Then maybe,” LJ said calmly, “it’s time to stop pretending you’re not the man who can take it back.”
Miles looked at the heavy bag again. It was still swaying slightly, like it was waiting.
LJ pushed off the rack and started toward the door.
“Just remember one thing,” he said over his shoulder. Miles glanced up as his brother smirked, "Even chav royalty needs manners.”
Miles shook his head with a quiet laugh, but when LJ left, the smile faded.
Miles stood up slowly, walked back to the bag, raised his fists and hit it again.
Harder this time.
---------------
Harsh Reality
Dickies Arena
Fort Worth, Texas
Two Nights Before Blaze of Glory
Dickies Arena sat empty. Tens of thousands of seats stretched into darkness, the massive building humming quietly under the glow of work lights above the ring. There were no fans, Belinda and Lunam hadn’t even arrived in town yet. The Audio/Visual crew weren’t even setting up the remaining things so no music.
Just the six–sided ring sitting alone in the center of the floor.
Miles Kasey stood inside it rocking a black hoodie, jeans. He left the theatrics for Sunday, but for a long moment he simply looked around the arena.
“Alex...”
His voice echoed across the empty building.
“I have had to sit back and listen as you have spent not just weeks but MONTHS running your mouth about me.”
Miles paced slowly across the ring.
“I have had to listen to you calling me desperate or calling me fragile. You said my whole career has been about trying to prove I’m better than I actually am.”
Miles stopped in the center of the ring.
“And then you decided to run your mouth about my marriage again. That part never seems to get old for you, does it?”
He laughed once.
“But let’s talk about marriage for a second, Alex.” Miles leaned against the ropes, "You keep throwing shots at me and Carter, like loving my husband somehow makes me weak because you so want me to apparently go for the SCW World Championship that he currently holds. Even after I specifically stated that I don’t want that for MY own selfish reasons, but I’m not about to hurt my husband who has been hurt enough for TWO lifetimes.”
A slow shake of his head.
“Mate... if you wanna throw stones, let’s talk about how you threw your own marriage away.”
The words hung in the air.
“You didn’t lose it. You didn’t grow apart like the bullshit excuse that I know you told every single fucking student in Wolfslair...You threw it ALL away. And for what, exactly?”
Miles’ voice sharpened.
“All for some cheap piece of ass who convinced you that ruining your life was worth it. All for some cheap piece of ass that dragged you down this pathetic spiral you’ve been on ever since.”
He pushed off the ropes.
“You want to question my heart?” Miles tapped his chest, "I wake up every day next to the man I fought the entire world to protect.”
His voice dropped.
“That’s not a weakness that I am about to let you exploit for your own selfish gains. That’s commitment and the difference between you and me is real simple.”
Miles looked straight into the camera.
“When things got hard in your life...You ran like a bitch, then you spent the next five years blaming everyone else for it and decided to take it out on every fucking person that remotely has zero fucking problem putting a middle finger directly in your face and tell you to ‘Fuck Off’.”
His eyes burned now.
“When things got hard in mine...I stayed. I stayed where my heart truly was and that was with Carter and over time with Kevin. But yet you keep telling everyone I want to be you.”
Miles laughed bitterly.
“Bruv... I wouldn’t trade places with you if you handed me every championship you’ve ever won.” He spread his arms, "Because what the hell would I actually be inheriting?”
A bitter chuckle.
“A bitter old legend clinging to the last scraps of relevance he has left.”
Miles stepped closer to the hard camera.
“You want to talk about desperation? FINE, let’s talk about it...You’re the one who needed my championship to convince yourself you still matter. You’re the one who keeps bringing up my career like you’re trying to convince the world you didn’t spend twenty years becoming a relic.”
He pointed at the canvas beneath his feet.
“But then you said something that caught my whole fucking attention. You said I’ve been bumping my head on the glass ceiling for five years. You’re right. I absolutely have because I’ve been fighting people like you the entire damn time. You questioned my heart. You want to know what heart looks like, Alex?”
His voice turned razor sharp.
“Heart is getting knocked down and standing back up. Heart is fighting through injuries. Heart is carrying this division when the people who call themselves legends stopped giving a damn about it. And heart is refusing to become the kind of man who throws away the people who love him just so he can feel important again. I am NOT about to be like you, I refuse to turn my heart to a black piece of coal all to taste success that you have had...I’m NOT YOU BRUV! And I will never be. I don’t wanna be the next Alex Jones, I don’t even wanna be the next Finn...I wanna be the first Miles Kasey. The realest mother fucker in the room, despite how much that really pisses you off.”
The arena felt smaller somehow.
“And let’s address that line you were so proud of.”
Miles’ expression darkened.
“You said I spend ninety percent of my life on my knees. You’re right.”
The words echoed across the empty arena.
“I have spent a lot of time on my knees. Because life has knocked me down more times than I can count. But every single time...”
Miles’ eyes locked on the camera.
“...I got back up.”
He leaned forward.
“And that’s the problem you’re about to run into at Blaze of Glory. Despite the fact that you beat me, you let me GET BACK UP! At Blaze of Glory....A Last Man Standing match isn’t about who hits harder. It’s about who refuses to stay down.”
A faint, dangerous smile crept across his face.
“And Alex...You just so happen to have coming at you with guns blazing. You picked the one man in this company who has spent his entire life learning how to survive.”
Silence filled the arena.
“So keep talking about my marriage. Keep pretending you’re above me. Keep telling the world you’re the legend and I’m the desperate one.”
His voice dropped into a low growl.
“Because when the referee hits nine...”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“...and you’re still trying to crawl your way back to your feet...”
The smile vanished.
“You’re going to realize something.”
Miles’ voice became ice cold.
“You were never questioning my heart. You were begging me not to prove it.”
He lowered the microphone slowly.
“At Blaze of Glory...I take my championship back.”
The echo of it hitting the canvas rolled across the empty Dickies Arena.
And Miles Kasey walked out of the ring without looking back.
