I could tell from the moment we stepped through the curtain that something was off with Cody. The lights, the crowd, the pageantry—all of it felt the same on the surface. But him? He felt... colder. Sharper. More distant. I stayed by his side anyway, arms crossed as we made our way to the ring for the contract signing. His jaw was tight, eyes locked straight ahead, and even though he hadn’t said much backstage, I could feel the storm swirling inside him. Over the last few weeks, I’d seen glimpses of this version of Cody before. The version that emerged after WrestleMania 41. The one who didn’t smile as much. Who stopped cracking jokes between segments. Who trained until his knuckles bled. And now? That same darkness clung to him like smoke.
He stood alone in the ring as I lingered behind, watching from the corner with my arms folded. The way he gripped the mic, the fire in his voice when he said, "That was the last time I doubted myself. I won’t make the same mistake again" — it sent a chill down my spine. Then Cena’s music hit. The crowd reacted in waves—some cheers, some boos. I kept my eyes on Cody while John made his way down, the championship belt slung over his shoulder but no usual bravado in his stride. That was the first red flag.
"I can’t do SummerSlam," Cena admitted, his voice more subdued than I’d ever heard it. "Physically, emotionally... I’m not there right now."
I turned toward him sharply. That wasn’t like him. Cena never backed down, never delayed a fight. Not unless something was seriously wrong. He even suggested a match at Clash in Paris instead, trying to spin it like it was the smart play. Cody didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But I saw his fingers twitch against the table. That was when I knew something was about to go very, very wrong. As Cena turned to leave, I glanced back at Cody. “Code...” I said, quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he didn’t look at me.
Then he snapped. He charged up the ramp like a bullet, catching Cena from behind with a stiff shot that dropped him to the ground. The crowd gasped, unsure whether to cheer or boo. I stood frozen halfway up the ramp, hand halfway out like I might try to stop him—but I didn’t. My heart was pounding. Not because of what he did, but because I didn’t know if I recognized him anymore. Cena tried to fight back with the championship belt, but Cody ducked it. And when Cody got ahold of that belt... it was like everything else disappeared. He nailed Cena with it, no hesitation. No flicker of regret. I took a single step forward, but again, I couldn’t bring myself to intervene.
He slid back into the ring, grabbed the contract, and with the cold calculation of a man on a mission, climbed the ropes in his suit and dove through a table with Cena beneath it. I winced as the table shattered. The crowd had gone completely silent. And still, I didn’t move. Cody forced Cena's hand to sign the contract, practically shoving the pen between his fingers. Then, with that same sneer I remembered seeing months ago, he muttered into the mic, "Check the fine print. It's a Street Fight."
He dropped the mic. The paper fluttered beside Cena’s broken body. I stood on the ramp, fists clenched and arms crossed again, trying to process what I just witnessed. Cody wasn't the same. And that terrified me. Because I didn’t know if I could reach him this time.
Later backstage, I spotted him down the corridor, alone. His strides were sharp, determined, almost too fast. Something in my gut twisted, and I didn’t hesitate—I jogged forward until I was right beside him. “Cody,” I said, my voice quiet but urgent as I reached out, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. He stiffened.
“Hey,” I said again, this time more firmly. “Look at me.”
For a moment, he didn’t. I could see his jaw tighten, his eyes fixed straight ahead like if he didn’t meet my gaze, he wouldn’t have to confront whatever was clawing at him from the inside. “Cody…” I stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “Please.”
Finally, reluctantly, his eyes met mine. And just like that, my breath caught in my throat. It was in his eyes—the same shadow I saw after WrestleMania 41. But this time… it was deeper. Thicker. Heavier. Like it had roots now. Without thinking, I threw my arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. He didn’t return it right away. He just stood there, arms at his sides, breathing uneven. But I didn’t care. “I’m not letting go,” I whispered fiercely, my face pressed against his chest. “Not until you’re back to yourself. Not until you’re you again.”
“Angel…” he muttered, his voice low and strained.
I held him tighter. “I’m serious. I know I joke all the time about having to save your dramatic ass—but I’m scared, Cody. I’m terrified I’m gonna lose you for good if this keeps going.”
He was silent. The kind of silence that hurt. “I made a promise,” I went on, barely managing to keep my voice steady. “To Mama Rhodes. To Brandi. To Liberty. And to you, Cody. I promised I’d always have your back. That I’d look out for you—no matter what. And you… you promised the same to me.”
His breathing hitched. I felt the tension in his chest shift, and then, finally, he let out a deep breath. Slowly—so slowly—his arms came up and wrapped around me. A little shaky at first, but then firm. That’s when I realized I had tears sliding down my cheeks.
Damn it.
He rested his chin on my shoulder, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’m sorry.”
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “I’m so sorry, Angel…” His face was damp too now. “I keep thinking about what happened between us in that Last Man Standing match. About how I hurt you.”
“You didn’t mean to,” I said gently. “You weren’t yourself. You were—”
“I was already halfway gone,” he finished for me. “And I hated myself for it.”
I brushed away one of his tears with my thumb. “I would do it again. A hundred times. I’d put my life on the line for you, Code, if it meant keeping you from falling into that darkness again.”
His eyes searched mine, not with that usual cocky glint or teasing spark—just something raw. Fractured. Tired. But instead of cracking a joke or giving me one of his usual dramatic flair moments… he just nodded, slow and serious. Then he said something I didn’t expect. “I don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to stop me.”
My stomach dropped. “What… what do you mean?”
He stepped back a little, hands settling on my shoulders now. “I mean, when it gets to the point that you can’t reach me anymore—when I’m too far gone—I need you to run, Angel.”
“No,” I said instantly, shaking my head. “Hell no.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I’m asking you to save yourself,” he whispered. “Because you’re my best friend. You’ve been my anchor, my moral compass, my pain in the ass—but you’re also my light. And if I ever hurt you again… I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I already forgave you,” I shot back, voice shaking now. “You think I’m just gonna let you sink into this pit alone? Do you know who I am? I don’t run. Especially not from the people I love.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t want to become someone you’ll regret saving.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. My throat felt thick, and for once… I didn’t know what to say. That’s when I heard familiar footsteps behind us. “Ayo,” Jey called out, approaching with that easy swagger. “What’s goin’ on here? Y’all good?”
I blinked a few times and wiped under my eyes quickly, stepping back from Cody. Cody straightened a little, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… heat of the moment.”
Jey tilted his head, his eyes flicking between us. He didn’t press, but I could tell he wasn’t buying the whole “heat of the moment” thing. Still, he let it go. For now. “Well, look,” Jey said, nodding toward the hallway. “Me, Randy, LA, Bianca, Jelly—yeah, that Jelly—‘bout to go grab some food. You two comin’, or nah?”
Cody glanced at me. I nudged him gently with my elbow and gave him a small smile. “Come on,” I said. “A change of scenery might be good. Plus, you know I can’t let you eat alone or you’ll end up drinking half the menu and calling it dinner.”
He huffed a laugh. It was faint, but it was something. “You always gotta roast me?”
“Always.”
He finally nodded. “Alright. Yeah. Let’s go.”
As we started walking, Jey fell into step beside Cody, throwing an arm around his shoulder like a brother would. I hung back just a bit, watching the two of them—one a little quieter than usual, the other watching him closely without making it obvious. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I didn’t know how long I could keep Cody from falling. But I knew this: as long as I had any strength left in me, I’d never stop trying.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjmsvfDFIiM
and then Add to home screen.