I was walking back from the trainer’s room, the ache in my shoulder from that last match still pulsing faintly. The hallway was dimly lit, quiet except for the distant echo of production crates rolling across the floor somewhere near the loading bay. Then I heard it. A low, off-key whistle. The tune hit me like a punch to the gut.
Four descending notes. Then a pause. Then the same four again. It was slow, deliberate—mocking. My breath caught in my chest before I could stop it. That tune. That damn tune. My father used to whistle it when he was angry. When he was about to snap. When punishment was coming. I stopped dead in my tracks, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I spun around, eyes scanning every shadow, every open door. Nothing. No one.
"Who's there?" I called out, my voice sharp. Silence. But the whistle had been real. I knew it. It wasn’t in my head. My heart thundered as I backed toward the wall, fingers twitching like they wanted to form fists. I waited… one second… two… five.
Still nothing. I forced myself to move again, quickening my pace as I turned the corner. I didn’t breathe right until I got back to catering, noise and people drowning out the phantom sounds. But even then, something inside me stayed on edge.
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It was two days later when the package came. A small box, plain, unmarked—just my name written across the top in tight, familiar handwriting. My stomach turned as I picked it up. I already knew what it was before I even opened it. A VHS tape. Of course it would be a VHS. My father had always loved outdated things. Clung to them like anchors in a changing world. I borrowed an old player from the tech crew and locked myself in Cody’s RV. He’d just finished his match and came in to find me hunched over, the tape already whirring. “Angel?” he asked, his tone cautious.
“Just—just sit. Please.”
He didn’t ask questions. Just lowered himself onto the couch beside me. The screen was black at first. Then it flickered. Grainy footage. Me, from behind, walking through the arena parking lot. Me again, crouched down, giggling as I held Liberty’s hands while she toddled through the grass outside the RV. Then me, again, leaving Cody’s trailer. Looking over my shoulder. Smiling.
And then the voice. His voice.
“I gave you wings, little angel... and I can take them back.”
I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t. My fingers dug into the edge of the couch cushion, nails biting into fabric. The sound of that voice was enough to send a wave of cold from my chest out through my limbs. I didn’t even realize I was shaking until Cody reached over and paused the tape. He turned to me slowly. “Angel…”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I reached into my bag, pulled out the stack of folded notes. Some creased from being opened and closed a dozen times. Some still unopened. All signed with that nickname. Crywing. “This has been happening for weeks,” I whispered, voice raw. “I—I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to believe it. I thought he was dead. I hoped.”
Cody was silent, but his jaw clenched. His eyes scanned the notes like they were evidence in a murder trial. “I didn’t want to drag anyone into this,” I went on. “That’s why I’ve been pulling away. Why I’ve been so on edge. Why I keep watching Liberty like I think she’ll vanish if I blink.”
“I knew something was wrong,” he said, his voice low. “But this…”
“I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to show up. Hurt someone. Not me—he’ll go after the people I care about. That’s how he works. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He stared at me for a moment. And then, without hesitation, pulled me into a hug so tight it nearly unraveled me. “I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he said firmly, his hand steady against the back of my head. “Or Brandi. Or Liberty. You’re not alone in this.”
I clung to him like a lifeline, fists gripping the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m not scared of dying,” I whispered. “I’m scared of him hurting you. All of you. That’s why I’ve been like this. Why I didn’t tell anyone.”
He pulled back enough to meet my eyes. “You know you’re allowed to lean on people, right? We’ve got your back. Always. We’re unstoppable when we’re together. I mean, we took down some of the top names in WarGames.”
I gave him a weak smile, but it was real. “You’re too good at this whole best friend thing.”
“Yeah, well,” Cody grinned and ruffled my hair lightly, “I’ve had practice. But don’t think I’m letting you name our friendship group something dramatic like ‘Team Vengeance’ or ‘The Wingless Alliance.’”
I laughed—a real laugh, the first in days. “Damn. There go all my dark and brooding plans.”
“There’ll be time for brooding later,” he said, more gently this time. “Right now? You’re safe. We’ll get through this. Together.”
And for the first time in weeks, I believed it.
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I knew he would come eventually. It had been building—between the letters, the tapes, the whispers in the dark. A feeling under my skin that never let me rest. That low, simmering dread that one day I’d turn a corner and there he’d be. And today… that corner was real. I had just stepped out of the back hallway near production, heading toward the catering area, when I felt it. That shift in the air. Like the shadows behind me had grown teeth. I turned slowly.
And there he was. My father. He stood there like he’d stepped out of a nightmare and into daylight—like time hadn’t passed at all. That same cruel smirk. That same chill in his eyes. The years hadn’t softened him. If anything, he looked meaner. Leaner. More focused. His arms were crossed over his chest, but I knew better than to believe that meant he was relaxed. “Well, well,” he said, his voice soaked in mockery. “You’ve grown up, little angel. Thought you could fly away and forget where you came from?”
My mouth felt dry, but I forced my chin to stay up. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing fear. Not even now. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He chuckled. “I go where I please. You know that. You knew this day would come.”
Every step he took toward me made something inside me tighten. I held my ground for the first one… maybe two. But when he got too close, I stepped back without even thinking. “Still flinching,” he murmured with a shake of his head, lips curling into a grin. “All that strength you pretend to have, but deep down you’re still that scared little girl, aren’t you?”
“Get to the point,” I bit out, clenching my fists to keep them from trembling. “What do you want?”
“You,” he said plainly. “Back under control. Where you belong. All this hero crap you’ve been doing? It ends now. You’ve been meddling in things you don’t understand. And that little family you’re trying to build? I’ll burn it down piece by piece.”
He reached out then, slowly, fingers curling like he meant to grab my arm—and I froze. Just for a second. That old reflex I hadn’t shaken. The one that remembered what came after the grabbing. But then—
“Don’t touch her.”
Cody’s voice cut through the tension like a lightning strike. My father stopped, hand hovering mid-air. And there he was—Cody—stepping between us without hesitation, standing tall and unshaken like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. He didn’t look afraid. Not for a second. Just angry. Protective. “She’s not alone,” Cody said, eyes locked on my father with that glare that could level buildings. “Not anymore.”
My father’s hand lowered slowly. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”
“Someone who’s not afraid of you,” Cody replied without missing a beat. “You think you’re scary because you whisper threats and send creepy VHS tapes like it’s still 1995? Newsflash—she’s not yours to control anymore. She never was.”
“She’s mine,” my father growled, voice low. “I made her what she is.”
“No,” Cody snapped. “She made herself. In spite of you.”
I stood there behind him, barely breathing, watching the standoff unfold. I should’ve said something. Maybe I was still frozen. Maybe hearing Cody speak the words I’d never been brave enough to say out loud was too much. My father narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got guts, Rhodes. I’ll give you that. But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” Cody said, stepping forward just enough to make a point. “I know how cowards work. They show up when they think someone’s alone. They run when someone finally stands up to them.”
My father’s face twisted with irritation, but he didn’t push it. He gave one last glance over Cody’s shoulder at me—cold and calculated. “I’ll be watching,” he said. Then he turned and walked away, boots echoing against the concrete as he disappeared down the hall. Cody waited. Didn’t move for a good thirty seconds until he was absolutely sure the man was gone. Only then did he turn to me.
“Angel,” he said gently, voice softer now. “Are you okay?”
I tried to speak, but my throat was tight. Instead, I just nodded and blinked fast, trying to keep it together. He stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “He can’t hurt you,” Cody said firmly. “Not while I’m around. Not while any of us are.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you… for stepping in.”
He gave me a small smile. “You’d do the same for me.”
That made me smile—just barely. “Yeah. But I’d probably throw a chair at him, too.”
He laughed. “Next time, I’ll let you handle it your way.”
But in that moment, I knew—no matter how scared I was, no matter what came next—I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
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and then Add to home screen.