It had been two weeks since that night. Two weeks since Cody almost did something he’d never forgive himself for. Two weeks since I stopped his fist—brass knuckles clenched tight—just inches from The Rock’s face. He’d stared at me like he didn’t even recognize who I was. Like some shadow had crawled into his soul and made itself at home.
And I couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t breathe without thinking about it. I tried everything. Talking to him. Waiting outside his locker room. Sending messages, begging him to meet me. But all I got were half-hearted replies, if any. The Cody I knew—the brother-in-arms, the man who once told me I was the only person who understood what it felt like to carry the weight of everyone else’s expectations—he was slipping further and further away. I could see it in his eyes every time he showed up on Raw. Angrier. Louder. Meaner.
So I made a decision. I stood outside Adam Pearce’s office, my heart thudding like a war drum. My ribs still ached when the weather shifted. My arm had just come out of the cast. But none of that mattered now. I knocked once—sharp, deliberate. “Come in,” Pearce called.
I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Adam looked up from a stack of papers, and his face immediately changed when he saw me. “Angel. You shouldn’t be here,” he said, standing up. “You’re still not cleared to—”
“I’m not here for clearance,” I interrupted, stepping forward. “I’m here to request a match.”
He blinked. “A match?” His eyebrows shot up. “You’ve never asked for a match.”
“I know,” I said, locking eyes with him. “But this isn’t just a match. It’s a Last Man Standing match.”
Adam looked like I had just asked him to let me jump off the TitanTron with a blindfold. “Against who?”
“Cody.”
He sat back slowly, staring at me like he didn’t hear me right. “You want a Last Man Standing match… with Cody Rhodes?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not,” he said immediately, waving his hands. “Angel, no. No way. You’re hurt. You’re not even fully healed. And you’re talking about going up against one of the most dangerous men on the roster right now in one of the most brutal match types we have? That’s a hard no.”
“I’m not asking, Adam,” I said, stepping closer. “I’m telling you. I need this match.”
“No, what you need is to let one of your brothers handle it,” he snapped. “Taker. Kane. Hell, even Roman would step in if you asked. Cody’s spiraling, I get that, but this is not the way—”
“He’s not their best friend,” I cut in, voice sharp. “He’s mine.”
Adam stared at me, and for a moment the room was dead silent except for the faint buzz of the overhead lights. “He’s my best friend,” I repeated, softer now. “We’ve been through everything together. Hell, we promised each other—swore on everything we had—that we’d always look out for one another. No matter what. And right now? I’m the only one who knows how to reach him.”
“By beating him half to death?” Adam said, incredulous.
“If that’s what it takes,” I said. “Then yeah.”
He rubbed his face, clearly torn. “Angel… this isn’t a storybook redemption arc. This is real. You could get seriously hurt. Or worse.”
“I already am hurt,” I said. “Watching him become someone he’s not? That hurts more than anything he could throw at me. But if he’s going to fall... I won’t let him fall alone. I’ll drag him back kicking and screaming if I have to.”
Adam stood there, unmoving. His jaw worked like he was chewing through a dozen different arguments at once. Then finally, he sighed. “Why does it always have to be you?” he muttered under his breath.
“Because no one else will do it right,” I answered simply. He stared at me a beat longer. Then he reached for a pen, scribbled something on the paper in front of him, and looked up.
“Fine,” he said, voice low. “You want it? You got it. Next Monday Night Raw—Last Man Standing. You versus Cody Rhodes.”
A chill slid down my spine. Not from fear—no, I knew the danger. I accepted it. “Thank you,” I said. And I meant it.
He nodded grimly. “Be careful, Angel. This isn’t just a fight anymore.”
I turned to leave, hand on the door. “I know,” I said. “It’s a rescue mission.”
And if I had to fight my best friend to bring him home… then I’d swing first.
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