Page 56 of Between the Ropes

I exhale sharply, forcing the emotions down, compartmentalizing. One goal. One focus. Win the match.

I turn the corner near the locker rooms, my boots heavy against the floor, and nearly collide with a wall of green and black. Kyle “The Killer” Jenkins.

He’s already in his ring gear, his championship slung over his shoulder like it belongs there. His face paint stretches into a sinister smirk, his eyes gleaming with cocky amusement.

“Hope you’re ready for tonight, Pierce,” he says, voice dripping with arrogance. “Not that it’ll matter. The title’s staying with me.”

I don’t respond. Just stare.

Kyle tilts his head, like he’s studying me, trying to find a crack. When he doesn’t get a reaction, he steps in a little closer, dropping his voice.

“By the way,” he drawls, eyes sparking with something mean. “I saw your girl watching from the monitors earlier.” He pauses, letting it sink in, letting it fester. “Shame she’s gonna have to see you lose.”

I feel the shift inside me before I even move. My fist slams into the wall beside his head, hard, the drywall splintering beneath my knuckles. The sound ricochets down the hall, heads turning.

Kyle doesn’t flinch. Just smirks.

“Touched a nerve, did I?”

I breathe through my nose, my pulse hammering. Do not lose control.

My voice comes out low, controlled, lethal. “You don’t talk about her.”

He chuckles, like this is all a fucking game to him. Like he hasn’t just signed his own death sentence.

“We’ll see, champ. We’ll see.”

With that, he steps back, laughing under his breath as he walks off.

I stay frozen for a second, my chest rising and falling, the blood in my veins burning. I flex my fingers, shaking off the sting from the impact, but I barely feel it.

Let him talk.

Let him run his mouth.

I’m about to shut him up permanently.

Tonight, I take what’s mine.

I storm into the locker room, my blood still running hot from my run-in with Kyle. My jaw is tight, my pulse still hammering, but I can’t let this get to me. Not now. Not when I’m about to step into the biggest match of my career.

The room is quiet, just the dull hum of the overhead lights and the distant rumble of the crowd outside. I drag a hand through my damp hair, pacing for a second, trying to shake off the tension coiling tight in my chest. Breathe. Refocus.

I yank open my duffel bag and start changing, stripping off my hoodie and sweats. The black and gold wrestling trunks feel familiar, like armor, but my hands still flex with restless energy as I tape up my wrists. My reflection stares back at me from the full-length mirror in the corner—broad shoulders, thick muscles, tattoos stretching across my chest and arms. Battle-ready.

This is where I belong. In this space, preparing for war.

But my head isn’t clear.

I try to hype myself up, rolling my neck, shaking out my arms, but Kyle’s words linger. The thought of Natalie watching,hearing that bastard talk about her like she was some kind of prize to be passed around, fucks with me.

I exhale sharply, bracing my hands on the edge of the bench, gripping tight. I need to shake this off.

I’ve fought my whole damn life to get here. Sacrificed everything. This match isn’t just about winning a belt—it’s about proving that I’m the guy. The face of UXW. That every ounce of blood, every injury, every sleepless night spent chasing this dream has been worth it.

Kyle thinks he’s untouchable. He thinks he’s already won.

He doesn’t know what’s coming.

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