I’d barely made it halfway through the curtain when I heard the shift in the crowd’s tone—shouts turning sharp, the buzz of celebration morphing into a warning. I looked back toward the ring. Cody was still clutching the Undisputed Championship, his face flushed with sweat and pain from the main event. He didn’t even see them coming. The lights dimmed, and like a pack of wolves, Solo Sikoa’s crew stormed the ramp. No theatrics. No hesitation. Just malice. They slid into the ring and pounced before Cody could even set his belt down. The thud of their boots and fists hitting him echoed like gunshots. He got smashed into the corner, stomped into the mat, dragged down and kicked again.
I sprinted down the ramp before I even really thought through a plan. I didn’t know how I’d be able to take on all three of them but at that moment I didn’t care. My best friend was hurt, and Solo and his boys were gonna pay. My boots hit the floor hard as I slid under the bottom rope and went for the first body I could reach—fist to jaw, knee to ribs, elbow to the back of the skull. I grabbed Cody by the arm and dragged him toward the corner, shoving him back against the turnbuckles. “Stay down, I’ve got this!” I snapped, planting myself between him and the chaos.
For a second, it felt like I could take them all—dropkicking one over the top rope, ducking a swing and slamming my forearm into another’s throat. But there were too many. Two grabbed my arms from behind, wrenching them painfully back. Another slammed a kick into my ribs. One swept my legs, and I hit the mat hard enough to knock the air out of me. I could hear Cody’s voice—raw and furious—but he was caught in a chokehold, struggling. The noise of the crowd bled into a dull roar in my ears. Pinned down, I shut my eyes. And then I heard him. Bray Wyatt. His voice from my dream, curling through my mind like smoke: You can’t banish the darkness… but you can learn to walk through it. Even the shadows have stories to tell.
Something in me snapped. Or maybe… something woke up. I roared—not a scream, not a battle cry, but something deeper. The grip on my arms vanished as I threw them off me with unnatural force. The arena lights flickered. Pyro sparked from the corners. I pushed up to my feet, and I could feel it—my wings, once white, now pure black. My gear seemed darker too, the fabric catching the light in strange, shadowy ways. And my head felt heavier. But I didn’t hesitate. My strikes came faster, heavier. I slammed one man over the ropes, spun and drove another headfirst into the turnbuckle, caught another mid-charge and tossed him clear across the ring. My movements were precise but vicious, each one carrying weight I’d never felt before.
*Switch to third person pov
Bianca Belair, LA Knight, Randy Orton, and Jey Uso hit the ring like a storm, sliding in from different sides. Without hesitation, they tore into the last of the attackers—Bianca’s braid whipping like a weapon, Jey unloading sharp superkicks, Knight leveling bodies with quick strikes, and Randy moving with cold precision. When the chaos settled, Jey’s gaze darted to the center of the ring. His voice cracked through the heavy silence.
“Yo, what’s goin’ on with her?!”
Bianca stepped closer, eyes narrowing, her tone low but laced with urgency. “We’ve seen this side before… and it ain’t good.”
Knight let out a short, almost humorless laugh, glancing between them. “Yeah… last time was when she almost killed her own father.”
Randy’s eyes followed something above, his face unreadable. Slowly, he raised a finger and pointed. “…She didn’t have those before.”
The others turned, their gazes locking on the dark, curling horns now framing her head. But even as they noticed, she wasn’t looking at them—her eyes were fixed on one person alone. Cody.
Angel’s POV
I knew my friends had come to help, but I only looked at one person—Cody. He was still in the corner, clutching the ropes, breathing like he wasn’t sure if he should step toward me or stay put. His eyes darted over my face, my wings, like he didn’t recognize me. I took one step toward him, my voice low, rough—almost a growl. “Nobody… hurts you. Not while I’m here.”
I felt my knees wobble for a second, my form flickering like a bad signal, but it held. Cody’s grip on the ropes tightened before he finally took a hesitant step forward. We didn’t say anything else, but the air between us was heavier than it had ever been—bond still there, but now threaded with something new.
Uncertainty.
Then my vision tunneled. The lights overhead blurred, Cody’s outline fading in and out until the noise of the crowd sounded miles away. My wings twitched once more, then folded in tight against my back before everything went black. The last thing I heard before hitting the mat was Michael Cole’s voice cutting through the chaos: “Angel saved Cody Rhodes tonight… but at what cost?”
Later-
When I woke, the first thing I saw was the white ceiling of the med room and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. For a moment, I didn’t know how I’d gotten there. My limbs felt heavy, my throat dry, like I’d been asleep for years but somehow still hadn’t rested. Then I heard his voice.
“Angel?” Cody’s tone was soft but laced with worry, the kind of voice he used when the stakes were too high for jokes. He was sitting in the chair right beside my bed, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he’d been there the whole time. The moment my eyes opened fully, he shot forward and pulled me into a hug so tight I could feel the tremor in his arms.
“You’re awake,” he said against my hair, his relief palpable. “How’re you feeling?”
I hugged him back, taking comfort in the familiar warmth of him being right there. “Like I just ran a marathon in thirty seconds,” I murmured. My voice was a little raspy, but I managed a tired smirk. “And somehow lost.”
Cody huffed a small laugh, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes as he leaned back slightly. From across the room, movement caught my attention. Jey, Bianca, Randy, and LA Knight were leaning against the far wall. They looked… well, they looked like they’d been waiting a while. Jey was the first to push off the wall, coming over and resting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You scared us, girl,” he said quietly. There was no judgment in his voice, but there was weight.
Bianca came next, her braid swaying slightly as she stepped closer, followed by Randy and Knight. I could feel the silent conversation happening between them—glances, small shifts, the kind of thing people do when they’re trying to decide how to tell you something. “What happened?” I asked, scanning their faces.
Bianca’s gaze flicked to Randy, then to Knight. It was Knight who spoke first, tilting his head slightly. “You really don’t know?”
I blinked. “Know what?”
Bianca’s voice was softer now, hesitant. “You… turned into that shadow form again.” She paused, and I saw Randy’s jaw tighten. “Except this time… you had these curled black horns. On your head.”
I froze. My gaze dropped to my lap. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. “I don’t… remember that. The last thing I remember was Solo’s crew pinning me down. Then… nothing.”
There was another one of those looks between them—unspoken words passing like a current. Bianca finally broke it by ushering the others toward the door. “We’ll give you two a minute,” she murmured. The door shut, and it was just me and Cody. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy. I shifted on the bed, pulling the blanket tighter around me even though I wasn’t cold. My chest felt tight, like there was a weight pressing down from the inside. Cody’s eyes stayed on me, gentle but sharp enough to cut through whatever walls I tried to put up.
“You’re thinking about something,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. I hesitated. My nails dug lightly into the blanket as I took a slow breath.
“After my father poisoned you,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “I went after him. I wasn’t… myself. I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. If Bianca, Randy, and Knight hadn’t stopped me…” My throat closed for a second. “…I would’ve killed him.”
Cody didn’t move, didn’t speak—just listened. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to continue. “The first time I changed… my father looked at me and said I was just like him. And now… this happened again. I don’t even know why. I don’t understand any of it. And—” My voice broke, and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “—I’m a monster, Cody.”
Before I could look away, Cody’s hand closed firmly over mine. I looked up, startled, and saw that stubborn, immovable determination in his eyes. “You are not a monster,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got enough on your plate. You don’t need to be—”
“Too late,” he interrupted, a little spark of sass creeping into his voice. “I’m already in this. You think I’m just gonna let my sister run around sprouting horns without getting some answers? Please.”
That pulled a reluctant smile from me, small but real. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he said, squeezing my hand once more, “but I’m your ridiculous.”
And somehow, in that moment, the weight in my chest felt just a little lighter.
The sound of the door clicking open pulled my attention away from my thoughts. I looked up, half-expecting the others to come back, but instead, two massive shadows filled the doorway. My brothers.Kane ducked his head to step inside, Undertaker following behind with that calm, unreadable expression he always wore. But I knew better—behind those eyes was worry, the kind they didn’t show to just anyone. “You look like hell,” Kane rumbled, folding his arms.
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks for the compliment. I’m fine.”
“Bull,” Kane said immediately, not even blinking. “I’ve known you since before you could talk, Angel. You’re not fine.”
A small laugh slipped from me, though it was more tired than amused. “You’re annoyingly perceptive, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Kane said, “and I’m usually right.”
I dropped my gaze to my hands, remembering the way Eddie Guerrero’s voice had echoed in my dream—calm, wise, but firm.
Just remember something, mamacita. Being good doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being honest. With them… and with you.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Physically, yeah, I’m okay. Just… exhausted. But…” My throat tightened. “This new side of me… it scares me to death. I don’t understand it. And I—” I hesitated, the words tasting like ash. “I’m worried he was right. That I’m just like him.”
Undertaker’s boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the room. He stopped in front of me, his shadow covering mine, and for a rare moment, the mask of intimidation dropped. His massive hand came to rest on my shoulder, solid and grounding. “You are nothing like our father,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Not now. Not ever. And we’ll help you through whatever this is. You’re not carrying it alone.”
My eyes burned as I looked up at him. Kane’s expression softened, just a little, and he stepped closer. “Taker’s right,” Kane said, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. “We’re not letting you fall. Not to this. Not to him. Not to anything.”
Something inside me cracked, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled over. I stood and reached up, wrapping my arms around Undertaker’s middle. He didn’t hesitate—his arms came around me, big and protective, like a fortress no one could break through. Kane’s hand landed on my back, warm and reassuring. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “For always being here. For not giving up on me.”
“We never will,” Kane said without hesitation. “No matter what.”
In that moment, between their steady hands and unshakable presence, I felt the storm inside me quiet—just a little.42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsX0wqG7HAN
and then Add to home screen.