The ceiling tiles in the hospital room had started to blur together like a jigsaw puzzle I couldn’t finish. Pain meds were starting to wear off, and I felt every cut, bruise, and cracked rib like a slow, burning pulse under my skin. But I wasn’t alone. I turned my head—slowly—and there he was. Cody Rhodes.
Slouched in the chair next to my bed, arm in a sling, one leg bouncing restlessly. He had his hoodie pulled halfway over his head, his boots untied, and a Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee resting on his knee. He looked like hell, honestly. Bruised jaw. Swollen lip. Red marks still across his arms. And somehow, he was still watching me like I was the one he was worried about. “You’re staring,” I rasped, voice rough from a dry throat.
Cody jumped, sloshing coffee onto his jeans. “You’re awake—finally!”
I winced as I shifted slightly. “Barely. Pretty sure I got hit by a semi.”
He chuckled and leaned forward, reaching for the water cup on my tray. “Close. More like a freight train in Armani.”
I took a grateful sip. “So… we lived, huh?”
“Barely. You passed out the second you hit the mat outside the cage.” His eyes softened. “Scared the hell out of me.”
I tilted my head. “Aw, you getting soft on me, Captain America?”
He snorted. “You’re basically my annoying little sister, Angel. Of course I’m gonna worry. Especially when you take on everyone in the damn match like you’re invincible.”
“You would’ve done the same.”
“I did do the same. That’s probably why we’re both sitting in this hospital room held together with tape and sarcasm.”
That got a weak laugh out of me, and for a moment we just sat in silence. He watched me with that look again—the one he always saved just for me. The look that said I’ve got your back, always without him needing to say it. “You really scared me,” he said again, quieter this time.
I nodded. “I know. But I’m okay. I promise.”
A knock on the door broke the moment, and it creaked open to reveal Bianca Belair, looking like she’d just gone twelve rounds with a hurricane and still came out flawless. Behind her, LA Knight leaned heavily on a crutch, grinning like a wolf, and Randy Orton followed, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but his eyes flicked straight to me. “Well, damn,” Bianca said, stepping in first. “Look who’s still kickin’.”
“You know me,” I said, grinning through the ache. “Cockroach vibes.”
LA Knight barked a laugh. “Yeah! You’re too damn stubborn to go down, girl. Respect.”
“She nearly did go down,” Cody added with a pointed glare at me. “But no, she had to keep throwing herself into every fire.”
I shrugged. “I was protecting my people.”
That was when Randy stepped closer, his voice soft but heavy. “We noticed.”
Bianca came to my side and gently touched my hand. “You didn’t have to, but you did. Over and over. For all of us.”
LA Knight nodded. “I saw you drag Jacob off me with a chain, and I ain’t forgettin’ that. You saved my ass.”
I blinked, heart swelling in a way I didn’t expect. “I… just did what felt right.”
“You did more than that,” Bianca said. “You led out there. You were our anchor.”
Randy cracked the faintest smile. “And you still managed to insult Cody’s haircut while bleeding out. That takes talent.”
Cody groaned. “See, I knew bringing you guys in here was a mistake.”
Bianca leaned against the bedrail. “So. You got a name for the scar that’s gonna be on your ribs?”
I grinned. “I was thinking something dramatic. Like ‘Barbed Baptism.’”
LA Knight pointed at me. “Yeah! That sounds metal.”
Cody smirked. “You’re not naming your injuries.”
“I name everything, Code. You know this.”
We all started laughing—broken, bruised, exhausted—but laughing all the same. For a few minutes, the sterile walls and the scent of antiseptic didn’t matter. The pain dulled. The trauma faded just a little. Because we were together. Because we survived. Bianca raised an imaginary glass. “To the psycho angel who made sure we all walked out of that cage.”
Randy nodded. “To the heart of the team.”
Cody looked at me again, eyes bright with pride. “To my chosen little sister. The toughest damn person I know.”
I felt tears sting my eyes, but I blinked them away. “To us,” I said. “We fought in hell. And we won.”
And for that moment… that rare, perfect moment… I didn’t feel broken. I felt invincible.
Interview
Backstage was buzzing. The WarGames cage was gone, but the tension and bruises still lingered in every hallway. Cody and I were ushered onto the small interview stage—the black-and-gold banners behind us feeling a little too polished after what we’d just been through. He sat beside me, one arm in a sling and the other folded over his lap. I had zipped my hoodie all the way up, not that it hid the bruises along my arms or the stiffness in my movements. We were both beat to hell, but we were upright. That counted for something.
Michael Cole and Wade Barrett were already seated across from us when the cameras rolled. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back,” Cole said with that smooth, broadcast tone of his. “I’m here with Wade Barrett, and we’re joined by two of the warriors who fought their hearts out inside WarGames—Cody Rhodes and Angel. First off, how are you both feeling? And I mean really feeling—physically, emotionally—after everything that happened inside that cage?”
Cody spoke first, because of course he did. Always ready to lead the way, even when it hurt. He chuckled, soft and honest. “Well, Michael, I think it’s safe to say neither of us will be running a marathon anytime soon. My ribs are cracked, my shoulder’s a mess… but I’m here. I’m walking. And I’m proud. WarGames wasn’t just brutal—it was personal. But we came out of it intact, and that makes the pain worth it.”
He looked at me then, and there was that small, warm smile of his. “And as for Angel? I watched her take hits that would’ve dropped most men twice her size. She’s standing here too. That says it all.”
I smiled a little. “Cody’s right. We may be down for awhile but don’t count us out yet. WarGames was a message to everyone, not just The Rock and Cena, that no matter what anyone throws at us, we’ll always come back stronger.”
Wade was next, voice clipped and always laced with a little more edge than Michael’s. “Let’s not pretend this was all glory and sunshine, Cody. Angel, you threw yourself into every brawl, every corner of that cage like you had something to prove. So my question is this—was it worth it? Was putting your body on the line over and over for those people in the cage really worth what you’re walking away with?”
“Absolutely, Wade,” I said without missing a beat. “For most Superstars, winning gold means everything. But not for me. My friends and family are worth more than anything, and making sure none of them get seriously hurt is what matters the most to me. I would do it a hundred times over if I had to.”
I paused, shot Cody a sideways look, then smirked. “Even if they’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”
Cody laughed, pretending to be offended as he nudged me. “Hey now—I wasn’t the one diving off the top of the cage with a steel chair, but go ahead and call me the pain in the ass.”
Then he got quiet again, voice softer. “But she’s right. Angel’s heart is what separates her from everyone else in that locker room. She’s not just fighting for herself—she’s fighting for all of us. And I don’t take that kind of loyalty for granted. None of us do.”
Michael nodded. “You know, it’s one thing to survive WarGames. It’s another thing entirely to come out of it with the kind of praise we’ve heard from Bianca Belair, LA Knight, even Randy Orton. Cody, what does it mean to you to see the others standing behind Angel the way they have?”
Cody took a breath before he answered, and I knew it wasn’t just for the camera. “It means everything, Michael. This business—it’s built on respect. You earn it in blood, sweat, and sacrifice. And Angel earned every bit of that respect in WarGames. She didn’t just protect the team—she inspired it. I saw LA Knight barely able to stand, still trying to help her up. Randy—who trusts nobody—stood by her side without hesitation. That kind of unity? That’s rare.”
Wade leaned in, his tone still skeptical. “So, Angel—you’ve been called a ‘reckless hero,’ ‘the heart of the team,’ and even ‘the reason you all survived.’ But do you think that kind of pressure, that expectation, is sustainable? What happens when the next war comes and everyone expects you to save them again?”
I didn’t flinch. I’d thought about that more than once. “I won’t even try to sugarcoat it,” I said, a little more serious this time. “That kind of pressure is hard to live up to. All I can do is my best. Nothing will change the fact that I won’t ever stop looking out for my friends and family, no matter how hard it gets.”
Then I glanced back at Cody, and my smile softened. “But knowing my best friend always has my back and is looking out for me too? That makes things a little easier.”
Cody’s expression shifted, more emotion behind his eyes than I think he intended to show. “That’s the thing about Angel—she carries so much on her shoulders, and still she’s thinking about everyone else before herself. That kind of selflessness? It’s rare. But yeah, she’s not alone. Not anymore. I made her a promise the first day she came to WWE—I’d be there, every step of the way. And I meant it.”
Michael leaned in again. “And we’ve all seen it. Through everything—injuries, setbacks, impossible odds—you two have stayed locked in. But I’ve got to ask… now that the dust has settled, and WarGames is in the rearview mirror, what’s next for the both of you?”
Cody chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with his good hand. “Right now? Healing. We’ve both got some battle scars to tend to. But once we’re cleared… I think it’s time we reminded the world that WarGames was just a taste of what we’re capable of. Whether that means tag team gold or facing new challenges—we’re not done. Not by a long shot.”
Then Wade, ever the cynic, raised an eyebrow my way. “Let’s say that does happen—titles, spotlight, all of it. Angel, you’ve already made headlines for stealing the show at WarGames. Some people say you're rising too fast. That it’s only a matter of time before you start believing your own hype. What keeps your feet on the ground?”
I laughed, honestly amused. “Easy. Cody. And my brothers, too—but they’re more of the strong, silent type. Cody, though, won’t hesitate to call me out when I screw up or get too in over my head.”
Cody laughed with me, nudging me again. “Yeah, I’ve got a pretty solid track record of dragging her back down to Earth when she starts floating too high. It’s part of the job description—best friend, tag partner, occasional reality check. But truthfully? She doesn’t let it go to her head. She’s too focused on everyone else. That humility, that fire—it’s why people believe in her.”
Michael glanced between us, clearly impressed. Michael leaned forward a little, thoughtful. “Angel, we’ve seen you jump into fights that weren’t even yours to begin with—standing up for people, protecting teammates, even taking hits meant for others. Some say that kind of loyalty is rare… maybe even reckless. Where does that come from? What drives you to put yourself on the line like that?”
I smiled, not out of pride, but because the answer was so deeply rooted in who I was. “It’s just who I’ve always been. I grew up watching my brothers fight battles I couldn’t help with yet. They were always there for me even when our father wasn’t, and it stuck with me—that idea that you never let leave someone you care about to fight alone. Not if you can do something about it. Maybe that makes me reckless, maybe it makes me stubborn—but if someone I love is in trouble, I’m already running before I’ve thought it through. It’s just... instinct.”
Cody chuckled beside me and gave me a nudge. “That tracks. She doesn’t wait. You blink, and she’s already in the fire. But that’s what makes her special. She’s wired to protect people. And yeah, sometimes I’ve gotta reel her back before she sets herself on fire for the rest of us—but I’d go to war beside her any day. Because I know without a doubt, she’d take a hit for me. She already has.”
Michael glanced between us, visibly impressed. “And I think that’s exactly why fans have rallied behind both of you.”
He wrapped it up after that, thanking us both and wishing us well. But as the lights dimmed and the cameras shut off, I could still feel that quiet strength beside me. Bruised, exhausted, but not broken. Never broken. We’d earned every scar—and we weren’t finished yet.
ns216.73.216.241da2
and then Add to home screen.