The lights dropped low and the second the words “Adrenaline, in my soul…” blared through the arena, everything changed. The crowd exploded. That low bass from “Kingdom” hit like a heartbeat in my chest, and the sound of thousands of people screaming for Cody Rhodes gave me goosebumps every time. I stood by his side at the top of the ramp, arms spread wide for a second to soak it all in. The energy, the lights, the emotion—it was electric. Cody always looked so damn calm in the chaos, like he belonged here. And honestly? He did.
“You ready to make ‘em feel it tonight?” I asked him, leaning toward his shoulder with a grin.
Cody shot me that cocky half-smile of his, the one that meant business was about to pick up. “I was born ready, Angel.”
“Good,” I said. “Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”
We started down the ramp together, the crowd practically trembling with excitement as they reached out, cheering and waving. I stayed close to Cody, giving a few fans high-fives along the barricade, pointing at some of the signs I spotted. One of them said "Angel Is My Guardian," and I couldn’t help but smirk and tap my chest in thanks. Cody climbed the ring steps while I pulled myself up onto the apron and slipped between the ropes, landing lightly beside him.
Jey Uso’s music shook the rafters, and the fans erupted all over again, maybe even louder than before. I scanned the arena, already knowing he wouldn’t come from the ramp. Jey never came from the ramp. That man lived for the surprise entrance. “Where is he?” Cody asked, grinning, squinting toward the crowd.
“Left side,” I said, already spotting the blur of blue tank top weaving through fans. “Right past security—yep, there he goes.”
“Bet you ten bucks he knocks over a guard on accident,” Cody laughed.
“On accident? He’s yeeting on purpose,” I replied.
Jey was loving it, throwing up the ones, slapping hands, and hyping everyone he passed like he was personally handing out tickets to the afterparty. It was contagious. I couldn’t help but bounce a little in place, vibing to his theme while Cody chuckled beside me. “You know,” I said, turning to Cody, “every time he does this entrance, I get nervous and excited.”
He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Why nervous?”
“Because one day he’s gonna trip over a hot dog vendor or something,” I said, “and I’m not jumping into that crowd to rescue him.”
Cody laughed so hard he had to brace a hand on the top rope. “You so would, and you know it.”
I grinned. “Maybe. If he shared the hot dog.”
Jey finally slid into the ring, jumping to his feet with that trademark Uso grin and a mic already in hand. “YEET!” he shouted, loud and proud.
“YEET!” Cody and I echoed in unison, fists up in the air.
The crowd followed suit, their collective YEET shaking the building. Jey pointed at both of us, all swagger and love. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he said, giving Cody a firm fist bump, then turning to me.
I bumped my knuckles against his with a grin. “Took you long enough.”
“You try dancin’ through thousands of people and not gettin’ caught in a wave of selfies,” Jey fired back. “I’m out here doin’ work.”
I snorted. “Well your office is in the middle of a riot.”
“Exactly,” he said proudly, and we all laughed. It felt good. It felt right. The three of us standing side by side, like we belonged there. Like nothing could touch us.
The lights dimmed slightly, anticipation buzzing in the air like static. I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cody and Jey in the center of the ring, the roar of the crowd swelling around us. I could feel the energy vibrating up from the canvas and into my bones. Cody cracked his neck with that familiar look in his eyes—focused, fired up. Jey was bouncing on the balls of his feet, hyping himself up. “We ready for this?” I asked, glancing between them.
Jey gave a smirk, nodding. “Born ready, uce.”
Cody let out a short breath, shifting his weight. “Let’s see if they’re as bold face-to-face as they are behind a mic.”
Then—
“DAAA DAA DA DA!”
John Cena’s theme hit like a cannon blast. The crowd erupted in a wild mixture of cheers and boos, the kind that always follows Cena nowadays. I turned my head toward the ramp, and the three of us watched silently as he stepped out, saluting like always, then running full-speed down the ramp like it was still 2005. I stared at him hard—my arms folded, lips pressed into a line. No words. Just watching. “Here comes Mr. Hollywood,” Jey muttered beside me.
Cody chuckled under his breath. “Let him come. It’s what he does after he gets in here that matters.”
Cena slid into the ring, cool and collected, lifting the mic for a second just to throw a cocky smirk our way. Typical. Then came that dreaded noise.
“Yeah, I’m up now…”
Logan Paul’s theme hit, and the entire arena instantly turned hostile. Boos thundered through the building like a wave, shaking the ring itself. And the man of the hour—Logan freaking Paul—stepped out from behind the curtain with his obnoxious grin, camera drone circling above him like some smug mechanical halo. He wore that stupid gold jacket like it was armor. Like he was untouchable. “Ugh, he’s such a walking ego,” I growled.
“No lie,” Jey said with a roll of his eyes. “If he flexes one more time, I’m gonna slap the filter off his face.”
Cody leaned over slightly. “Don’t tempt him. Let’s give the crowd the show they deserve.”
As Logan climbed into the ring, I backed off. Not retreating. Just repositioning. “I’m ringside,” I told them as I slipped through the ropes. “I’ve got your backs.”
Cody nodded without looking. “Always.”
From beside the announce table, I stood with my arms crossed, my wings—figurative and literal—ready to act if things got out of hand. Michael Cole threw me a wary look as I passed him, probably remembering the last time I knocked someone into the commentary team. I gave him a small smirk but said nothing. My eyes were locked on that ring. The bell rang.
And from the jump, Jey and Cody were on fire. The chemistry between them was tight—tags made with purpose, movement crisp and clean. Jey hit a flurry of quick strikes on Cena, then tagged in Cody, who followed up with a beautiful Disaster Kick. The crowd roared with every slam and suplex. I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “LET’S GO, JEY! SHOW ‘EM WHAT THE BLOODLINE REALLY LOOKS LIKE!”
Jey grinned through the ropes. “You know it, Angel!”
But the momentum shifted once Cena got a tag in and brought Logan into the fray. Immediately, the cohesion on their side cracked. “Tag,” Cena barked. Logan slapped himself in with that trademark smugness, barely looking at John as he climbed in. The moment was sloppy, disrespectful—and it cost them.
Logan charged at Cody and went for a springboard crossbody, but Cody ducked. Logan crashed hard, and Cena groaned loudly from the apron. “Y’all see that?” I yelled at commentary. “That’s not teamwork—that’s ego.”
Cody seized the moment and nailed a Goldust-style snap powerslam. The crowd exploded. I pounded the barricade with my fist. “THAT’S MY BOY!” I screamed, pure pride swelling in my chest. It only got messier for Cena and Logan.
At one point, Cena barked something at Logan—probably to hold back or tag out. Logan ignored him. Charged Cody again and ended up splashing Cena by mistake. Flattened him. “OHHHHH!” the crowd howled.
I nearly doubled over laughing. “Oh, that’s beautiful. Hit your own partner! Maybe he’ll learn to duck next time!”
That mistake cracked the door open, and Cody kicked it off its hinges. He pulled Logan in and dragged him up to the top rope. The drone whirled around them, recording every second like Logan was filming his own destruction. Cody threw his arm over Logan’s shoulders, steadied his feet—and BOOM.
Superplex. Logan hit the mat so hard his drone spun out and crashed into the barricade near me. “Oh, look,” I said sweetly. “There goes your five-star vlog footage.”
Jey, quick as lightning, hit the top rope and soared into the air. Uso Splash. Direct hit. But Cena wasn’t done. He exploded off the apron, blind-siding Cody and driving him hard into the Spanish announce table. The wood cracked. Cody cried out, barely avoiding going through it. Cena wasn’t stopping—he lifted Cody up in position for an Attitude Adjustment.
“CODY!” I screamed, stepping toward them. He twisted, flailed—and slipped free just before Cena could launch him from one table to the other.
“YES!” I fist-pumped. But Jey was already moving. I barely had time to shout before he launched himself from the other announce table and—
SPEAR. Cena went flying off his feet, crashing into the barricade. The crowd went wild. “That’s what you get!” I shouted. “That’s for trying to end Cody’s career, you corporate puppet!”
But Logan…
Logan always had to steal the spotlight. He climbed to the top rope, drone gone, ego intact. He looked down at Jey and without hesitation— Springboard splash. Right through the commentary table. It shattered beneath them with an ear-splitting CRACK.
I rushed forward, almost leaping over the announce desk. “JEY!” I dropped beside him, hand hovering over his chest.
He groaned, eyes fluttering. “Still good… damn…”
“Don’t move yet.” I glared at Logan, who was already rolling away, clutching his ribs. “You’re lucky I don’t knock your teeth out right now.”
I looked back at Jey. “Stay down if you need to. We’ve still got this.”
Cody climbed back into the ring, fire in his eyes. He was ready to finish what they started. I stood back, watching my boys fight, my voice hoarse from yelling. But I was proud. So damn proud. I may not have thrown a punch that night, but make no mistake—I was in the fight with them every second. And if they ever needed me to fly again? All I’d need is a reason.
The air was thick with tension, the kind that settled in your lungs and made it hard to breathe. I gripped the barricade at ringside, my heart pounding as Cody fought tooth and nail inside the ring. His body was battered—sweat streaming down his face, chest heaving—but his spirit was still blazing. Jey lay on the outside, trying to push himself up, groaning from the impact of Logan’s earlier table-crashing move. “C’mon, Cody,” I whispered under my breath. “You’ve got this… stay locked in.”
The crowd was on fire, stomping, chanting, living and dying with every move. Cody stumbled, catching Cena’s forearm across his jaw. He bounced off the ropes—but planted his feet and countered with a jawbreaker. Cena staggered. I leaned forward, screaming, “YES! That’s it! Keep pushing!”
Then I saw it. The glint of the Undisputed WWE Title belt in Cena’s hands. My eyes went wide. “NO—!” I tried to climb the apron, but the referee was too distracted—checking on Logan, who was crawling out of the wreckage on the far side. He didn’t see Cena raise the belt.
WHACK.
The sound echoed like a gunshot. The gold cracked across Cody’s face, dropping him like a stone. “DAMMIT!” I shouted, heart lurching as I leapt to the ring apron. But before I could slide in—
A blur hit the ring. Hooded. Fast. The crowd erupted in confusion, and I froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing. The figure tackled Cena with force I hadn’t seen in years—like a human missile. He snatched the very same title belt from Cena’s hands and—CRACK!—blasted Cena across the back of the head with it.
The arena lost its collective mind. I could barely hear my own thoughts. The figure threw the hood back. I gasped. “TRUTH?!”
Ron Killings—R-Truth—stood in the middle of the ring, the WWE Undisputed Title in one hand, his grin wide and mischievous like he’d never left. The man who’d just said his contract was up. The man who wasn’t supposed to be here. Cody blinked up at him, stunned. Jey, still trying to get to his feet outside the ring, looked just as shocked. “Ain’t no way…”
Truth looked around, soaking in the eruption of the crowd—and then his gaze landed on me. For the briefest moment, everything slowed. He smiled. That same warm, goofy, oddly reassuring smile I hadn’t seen in too long. And just like that—he ran. Out of the ring, through the ropes, leaping over the barricade and vanishing into the crowd like a phantom. Gone as fast as he came.
But my heart was still racing. “Welcome back, Ron…” I whispered with a grin. Inside the ring, Cody shook off the fog. Cena was still laid out. The ref had turned back around just in time.
“NOW, Cody!” I shouted. “FINISH IT!”
Cody’s eyes sharpened instantly. He grabbed Cena, locked him in—Cross Rhodes. He drove Cena into the canvas with precision and fury. The ref dropped to the mat.
One—!
Two—!
Three—!!
DING DING DING!
The bell rang, and the arena exploded. I didn’t wait. “WE DID IT!” I screamed, sliding next to Jey and pulling him up. He was limping, but his grin said everything.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Jey hollered, throwing his arm over my shoulder. “Cody with the kill shot!”
“Ron with the assist of the century,” I laughed breathlessly, helping him toward the ring. Cody was already on his feet, arm raised, adrenaline buzzing through every inch of him. He looked out at the sea of fans, his eyes shining—not just from the win, but from what it meant. Jey and I joined him in the center. The three of us stood there, triumphant and side by side.
I reached up and wiped some blood off Cody’s forehead with my sleeve. “You alright?” I asked softly, voice drowned under the roar of the crowd.
He nodded, smiling. “Been through worse. But damn… that felt right.”
“I told you we’d get you back in the picture,” I said, smirking. “Cena took another fall. You just kicked the door back open.”
Jey leaned into Cody, tapping his chest. “Back in the hunt, uce. They ain’t ready for you.”
Cody looked between the two of us, eyes softening. “I couldn’t have done it without either of you. Not tonight.”
I shrugged, grinning. “You handle the ring. I handle the chaos.”
We stood there a little longer, arms around each other’s shoulders, letting the celebration wash over us. Cody raised his arms high, pointing to the sky, while Jey shouted into the ropes and beat his chest. And me?
I looked out at the ramp. Where R-Truth had vanished. Where angels—and friends—sometimes reappeared when we least expected. I smiled again.
Welcome back, Ron.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.