The walk to the ring is always the longest part. Even with the roar of the crowd in my ears, even with the bright lights burning down on me, there’s a strange kind of quiet in my head. I keep my eyes forward, the championship banners hanging from the rafters nothing more than a blur. Tonight, one of them will bear our names.
Colton walks beside me, his grip tight on the tag rope slung over his shoulder. He’s focused, serious, the weight of expectation pressing down on him. I feel it too. The Hurst name is more than just a name—it’s a legacy. And tonight, we carve our place in it.
Behind us, our parents follow. Mom—Summer—ever the warrior, her face set in determination, and Dad—Hunter—silent, steady. Even in his fifties, even after everything, he still carries the aura of a man who belongs in this ring.
We reach the ropes. The arena is electric.
The bell rings.
The match is brutal.
Our opponents—The Kings of Carnage—fight like they’re defending their lives, not just the championships. Every hit, every slam, rattles through me, but I keep pushing forward. Colton and I have been training for this moment since we could walk.
We tag in and out, our movements seamless, instinctive. A perfect unit.
And then everything goes wrong.
The moment I step into the ring, I don’t see the steel chair until it’s too late. The crack of metal against my skull is deafening. My vision explodes into white-hot pain, and the world tilts. I stumble, dropping to one knee. Somewhere far away, I hear Mom scream my name.
Something inside me shifts.
A chill spreads through my limbs, drowning out the pain. My heartbeat slows, steady and cold. A familiar darkness slithers up from the corners of my mind, but this time, it doesn’t stay hidden. This time, it takes over.
When I open my eyes, the world looks different. Sharper. Crueler.
A laugh bubbles up from my throat—low, mocking. Not mine.
I stand, slow and deliberate. My fingers flex, testing the ache, but it doesn’t matter. Pain is irrelevant.
The man who hit me is smirking, thinking he’s already won.
Idiot.
I launch forward, ducking his next swing and driving my fist into his ribs. He stumbles, and I don’t stop. I don’t stop. My forearm crashes against his face, my knee slams into his gut. He drops to the mat, and I hear Colton yelling her name, but I am not Cassie. He is not calling for me.
I bare my teeth in a grin.
The world fades, lost in the rush of violence. I wasn't Cassie anymore.
I don’t remember winning.
The belts are in our hands, the crowd is screaming, but none of it reaches me. I don’t feel victory. I don’t feel anything.
Colton raises my arm, but I don’t react. I just stare at the man on the mat, his body twisted in pain. His partner kneels beside him, checking if he’s even conscious.
Good. Let them fear me.
Then hands grab my shoulders. Strong. Familiar.
Hunter.
I snarl, twisting to break free, but his grip tightens. No. No one controls me. I lash out—an elbow, a shove—but he doesn’t let go. He never lets go. His arms wrap around me, pulling me in, locking me down. Caging me.
“Cassie,” he says, his voice low, steady.
I thrash, my nails digging into his arm. My breath comes fast, uneven.
“Cassie.”
The world spins. My vision blurs. The fire inside me flickers. The name… the name sounds wrong. I am not—
I blink.
Dad is holding me. My body is shaking. My chest is tight. And when I look up at him, my eyes sting with something I don’t understand.
What… what just happened?
He doesn’t let go, not even as my legs weaken. He just holds me, like he’s done a thousand times before. His voice is quieter now, but unshakable.
“I got you.”
A sharp breath leaves me, and suddenly, I’m small again. Just a girl in her father’s arms.
I look up at him, my vision swimming, and a weak, broken smile tugs at my lips. A scared smile.
“Daddy…?”
He nods. “You’re okay.”
The crowd is still cheering. The cameras are still rolling. But in this moment, none of it matters.
Because tonight, something far more important than a championship just happened.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again.