The lights in the Kingdom Arena dimmed to gold, casting the ring in a divine glow as the energy of the crowd surged like a living heartbeat. I could feel it in my chest before I even stepped through the curtain. The final match of the Queen of the Ring tournament. My match.
The roar hit me the second I stepped out—thunderous, almost overwhelming. My boots hit the stage in slow, deliberate strides, and I took a breath. My gear shimmered white under the arena lights, with streaks of silver hugging the sides and a wing stitched along my ribs like a reminder of who I was. Guardian Angel. And tonight, I had something to prove.
Across the ring, Jade Cargill stood like a living statue—X-Men’s Storm-style gear gleaming, muscles carved from granite, eyes locked on me like I was already a trophy. She looked like a damn queen already, crown in her posture, fury in her glare.
Cody stood at ringside, still in his King of the Ring gear, though the cape was gone and a towel hung around his neck. The crown sat in his hand, not on his head. He leaned against the barricade, watching me, not with nerves—but with pride. He was here. Just like he promised.
The bell rang—and I shot forward. I came in fast. I knew better than to let Jade set the pace. She was a powerhouse, and if she got her hands on me for too long, it was game over. So I moved like lightning—low strikes to her legs, stiff forearms to the chest, and a spinning heel kick that snapped across her jaw. The crowd popped as she staggered back. I ran the ropes and launched into a springboard corkscrew crossbody—caught her clean across the shoulders. She fell hard, and I hit a running knee to her face the second she knelt. “She’s gotta stay fast,” I heard Michael Cole shout. “She can’t let Jade get a grip!”
“I’m trying, Cole,” I muttered under my breath. I sprinted the ropes again, looking to follow up with the Halo Shot or a flying elbow—something to knock her down for good. But Jade was waiting. She caught me mid-air like I was weightless and slammed me to the mat with a brutal powerslam.
“AND THAT was the mistake,” Wade Barrett called it, almost like he felt bad saying it. Jade shifted the tempo. She started targeting my ribs—already taped from earlier rounds. Her knees crashed into my side, and I swear I saw sparks. I writhed, arm over my ribs, breath ragged. She stomped down again, and I let out a strangled gasp. Then I heard him—Cody—his voice sharp and unshakable.
“You’ve been through worse!” he yelled, slapping the apron. “Get up, Angel!”
I gritted my teeth. He was right. I had been through worse. I fought my way here, dammit. I wasn’t about to roll over. Jade lifted me for a back suplex, but I twisted out of it mid-air and drove her headfirst into the mat with a DDT. She flopped, stunned. I scrambled up, let out a ragged yell, and caught her temple with a roundhouse kick that dropped her flat. Both of us lay there for a moment, winded and broken. I heard the ref counting to five. Cody’s voice again—hoarse now. “COME ON, ANGEL!”
I crawled to the ropes, pulled myself up. I could barely feel my legs, but my heart didn’t care. I launched into a dropkick to Jade’s knee. She faltered. I followed with a running knee to the side of her head. The crowd was on their feet. Then I climbed. The turnbuckle felt miles high. My vision blurred, but I steadied. “She’s going for it!” Pat McAfee shouted. “This could be it!”
I flew—Guardian’s Fall. My corkscrew senton connected, crushing Jade’s ribs.
ONE!
TWO!
She kicked out. My eyes went wide. I stayed on my knees, breath coming in gasps, hands in my hair. What else did I have to give? Cody pounded the mat again. “Stick with it! You’ve got this! Stay locked in!”
I nodded, lips trembling. One more shot. Just one. I reached for Jade’s arm, setting up the Halo Shot—my twisting neckbreaker. But she wasn’t done. She powered out—threw me off her like I weighed nothing. And then…
BAM.
Jaded. My body folded like paper.
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
The bell rang. The air left my lungs before I even realized I wasn’t moving. The cheers were deafening—but they weren’t for me. Jade Cargill was Queen of the Ring. I heard her music, heard the ring announcer crown her, but it all felt distant. I lay there, face pressed to the mat, one hand curled into a fist like I could still fight. But I couldn’t. Then I felt a hand on my cheek. Gentle. “Hey,” Cody’s voice. “You still with me?”
I blinked and looked up at him, his crown nowhere in sight now. His brow furrowed with concern. “Damn,” I rasped. “Did we win?”
He let out a soft laugh, one hand cradling the back of my head. “Not this one.”
I groaned. “Ugh. You win one crown and then let me get murdered. Real great best friend energy.”
He helped me sit up, and I leaned into him without thinking. My arm draped over his shoulder as he hugged me tight. “You did everything,” he murmured into my ear. “You gave her hell. That’s what matters. You fought like royalty.”
I didn’t say anything for a beat. My ribs screamed, my pride ached worse. Then I heard it—slow at first, then louder.
“AN-GEL! AN-GEL! AN-GEL!”
The chant grew, louder and louder, until it filled the entire arena. I looked up, dazed, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “I’m still getting fries after this, right?” I muttered.
Cody chuckled. “You’re getting fries, ice cream, and a nap on the jet with your name on it.”
I laughed—just a little. And with his help, I stood. Everything hurt. But my heart? My heart was still strong. I lost. But I left my wings in that ring. And I had no regrets.
The streets outside our hotel in Riyadh were unusually quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn’t empty—it was soft, warm, like the night was trying to be gentle. The breeze brushed across my cheeks, ruffling the hood I had pulled low over my head. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the neon glow from the hotel sign reflected in the glass doors up ahead.
Cody walked beside me, matching my steps with that easy rhythm of his, his own gym bag slung over his shoulder. He’d left the King of the Ring crown behind—probably tucked in some velvet-lined box somewhere—but the title still hung around him like it belonged. He’d won. He’d finished his story. Me? I hadn’t said a word since we left the arena. My ribs were taped beneath my hoodie, and even though I tried to walk normal, I knew he could tell something was off. I wasn’t limping, but it felt like I was dragging around a weight no one could see.
Normally, I’d be chirping his ear off by now. Bragging about how I still looked better in white and silver than he did in red and gold. Making jokes about Logan Paul’s hair. Trash-talking the Queen crown like I already owned it. But tonight… I didn’t have it in me. Cody let the silence stretch for a while, but I could feel his eyes cut toward me more than once. He was trying to read me. He always could. Then, finally:
“So,” he said, his voice easy and bright, “what do you think? I pulled the cape off better than Triple H ever did, right?”
I didn’t answer. He kept going. “Don’t lie. I saw that crown almost fall off twice during the press conference. I looked like a bobblehead in royal cosplay.”
A faint sound escaped me. Not quite a laugh—more like a breath caught in the corner of a smile. “You did kinda look like Burger King’s backup prince,” I muttered without looking at him.
He grinned. “There she is.”
But the flicker didn’t last. My smile faded, eyes dropping again to the sidewalk in front of me. My fingers curled tighter around the strap of my bag. That ache in my chest—the one I’d been ignoring—tightened again. We kept walking a few more paces before Cody gently reached out and caught my forearm, slowing me to a stop under the warm glow of a streetlamp. His grip wasn’t firm, just steady. Comforting. “Hey,” he said, voice soft now. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I hesitated, jaw clenched. Then I slowly pulled my hood down, letting the warm air hit my damp hairline. “I know I’m not supposed to beat myself up,” I said quietly, eyes still fixed on nothing in particular. “But I keep replaying it. Over and over.”
Cody stayed quiet, waiting. “The moment Jade reversed the Halo Shot. The second I hesitated. The Jaded. I just—” I rubbed my temple, frustration making my throat tighten. “I made it all the way to the end, Code. All the way. And now it’s like… none of it even matters because I didn’t finish the story.”
He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he just pulled me into a hug. It wasn’t one of those side-hugs or friendly slaps on the back. No. This was a full-on, arms-wrapped-around-me, forehead-resting-against-his-shoulder kind of hug. And I froze for a second, caught off guard. But then I melted into it, like all the fight had finally drained out of me and I had nothing left to hold back. “You fought like hell,” he murmured into my hair. “You beat some of the best in the world. You were hurt, running on fumes, and you still gave Jade more than anyone expected. That alone is something to be proud of.”
My fingers clutched at the back of his hoodie, just for something to hold onto. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Not yet. He leaned back just enough to look me in the eye, his hands resting on my shoulders now. “You hear me?” he said, voice firmer. “You made it to the damn finals of the Queen of the Ring. You didn’t get handed anything. You earned every inch. And yeah, maybe tonight the crown didn’t go home with you—but that doesn’t take away everything you did.”
I blinked at him. My eyes burned, but I didn’t let anything fall. Then he smiled. It was the kind of smile that was full of pride and warmth and fierce loyalty. “You’re still part of wrestling’s greatest royal family. Don’t ever forget that.”
My lip curled despite myself. “Oh yeah?” I said, finally finding a sliver of sass. “You mean I’m part of the Nightmare Family? ‘Cause if so, you’re the drama king, and I’m the sassy queen.”
He let out a laugh, nodding. “Exactly. And together we make one hell of a dysfunctional dynasty.”
That got a real laugh out of me. I bumped my shoulder into him as we started walking again, the tension easing from my muscles. “Thanks, Code,” I said after a beat. “For everything. For being there.”
“Always,” he replied simply. “Now let’s get you back upstairs, get some ice on those ribs, and order something totally unhealthy.”
“Only if I get fries and a milkshake,” I muttered.
“Only?” He smirked. “You’re getting fries, a milkshake, and the entire left half of the room service menu. Queen’s orders.”
I shook my head, smiling as the hotel came into view again. “Cody?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m still gonna beat Jade one day.”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, I know,” he said. “And I’ll be in the front row when you do.”
We kept walking through the quiet Riyadh night, just the two of us. No crown. No press. No arena. Just two crazy best friends that nothing could ever separate—and that, to me, meant more than gold ever could.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.