I jolted upright in bed, my heart thundering against my ribs like it was trying to claw its way out. My lungs struggled for breath, each inhale shaky and shallow, like I’d just run ten rounds in the ring. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. My sweat-drenched sheets tangled around me. The darkness of the room felt too still, too quiet compared to what I’d just left behind.
But I remembered. I remembered them. clear as day. Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Eddie Guerrero, Bray Wyatt…and Dusty Rhodes. Even though they had passed away, after that, I knew they weren’t gone. Their legacies lived on in all of WWE, the Superstars as well as the fans.
My cheeks were wet—tears I hadn’t realized were falling still clung to my lashes, and I wiped at them with the back of my trembling hand. My whole body ached, not from pain, but from emotion—from the weight of everything Dusty had said. The truth of it clung to me like smoke. I stared down at my hands, still shaking. My right one was clenched tightly, fingers curled so tight they’d gone numb. Slowly, I peeled them open, like I was afraid it might all vanish if I looked too fast. There it was.
Dusty’s feather. Soft white and glowing faintly like moonlight, it rested against my palm as if it belonged there all along. Like they had chosen me. My breath caught. The lump in my throat nearly choked me as fresh tears welled up in my eyes. I ran my thumb over the feather’s fine strands—delicate, but full of weight. Meaning. It wasn’t just some symbol. It was a promise. A reminder. Of everything he’d said. Of everything I had to do now.
I clutched that feather like it was my compass. Because it was. Dusty had given me more than just permission to fight for Cody. He gave me the courage to believe that I was part of this family. That I belonged. “I’ll bring you back, Cody…” I whispered into the quiet. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “No matter how far you fall… I’ll find you.”
The room didn’t answer. But deep inside me, something shifted—settled. I wasn’t just fighting for him anymore. I was fighting with him. For him. For us. Because that’s what family does.
The following day-
The arena was loud, buzzing with energy, but my mind was far from the roar of the crowd as I walked beside Cody toward the ring. I didn’t wear my gear tonight. No wings. No black and gold colors. Just my white t-shirt, faded pants, and the softly glowing feather Dusty gave me in that dream still tucked into my hair. I kept reaching up and brushing my fingers over it without realizing. Maybe part of me thought it might burn out. Or disappear. But it didn’t.
I stopped at ringside as Cody slid into the ring, adjusting the microphone already waiting for him. The lights cast long shadows across the mat, but he stood solid and sure, like always. Even when I knew he was hurting. Even when I could see the cracks that others couldn’t. I folded my arms across my chest and watched him. Closely. Then he started to speak.
“Yesterday, WWE and pro wrestling lost one of its giants in Hulk Hogan. And I know emotions and feelings regarding it are complicated, but what is not complicated is his accomplishments and his contributions to WWE, to sports entertainment, to pro wrestling, to entertainment as a whole—they are staggering, and they are indisputable. So as someone who gets to stand here and say that I'm a WWE superstar, he was the original, and I just want to take a moment to say, thank you Hulk Hogan.”
As soon as he mentioned Hogan’s name, my throat tightened. That dream. That… surreal walk through the fog. The tests. Dusty. Hogan’s test was the first. His presence loomed even in that dream world, larger than life, as if he had waited for me to see him one last time before fading for good. I swallowed hard, the feather in my hair suddenly feeling heavier. Cody paused, letting the moment breathe. I could tell it wasn’t just about paying respect. It was about grounding himself too. Remembering his place in this world we share, remembering the roots.
“Now Cleveland, there are street fights, and then there's what's going to happen at SummerSlam. We're not talking about virtue. We're not talking about victory. We're talking about violence, because that's what virtue demands.”
His tone shifted. Firmer. Grit edged into every syllable. “Sometimes, doing the right thing doesn't look like the right thing. Last week, John Cena saw that. He'll get plenty more at MetLife Stadium. But here's the tricky thing. I don't want to wrestle this John Cena. I don't want to fight a guy who didn't even want this match in the first place. I don't want to fight a guy who's counting the days until he's out the door.”
Cody’s words made my spine straighten. There was something in his voice—this mix of frustration and longing. Like he wasn’t just calling out Cena. He was trying to drag something out of himself, too. “No. At SummerSlam, I want to fight the real John Cena. Because if I'm going to stand here and own it, I need to know that I can go through the very best. And the title that John Cena has, it's the biggest title in our game. It means he is the very best.”
My heart thudded harder. He wasn’t just aiming for Cena. He was chasing a ghost. A truth. Cody always carried his family’s legacy on his shoulders, but right now, he was dragging the whole damn business behind him too.
“This isn't about nostalgia. This isn't about headlines. This is about a once-in-a-generation superstar, someone who redefined what it is to be a pro wrestler. So John Cena, if this is your last Summer Slam, come like it is your first.”
I felt that line sink deep into me. Just like I saw it land with the crowd. But I knew him better. I knew that this wasn’t just a rally cry for a match—it was a plea.
“I want you up there talking to Stu the cameraman. I want you wearing the title the right way. I want you running to the ring. I want all the hustle. I want all the loyalty and the respect. We can beat it out of each other. The reason for wanting to fight against the real John Cena is because I need to know—I need to know that this story that we have all been part of is not just fantasy, is not just legacy. I need to know that it meant something. That it was real.”
He paused—barely. But I saw the flicker in his eyes. I knew that look. I’d seen it in the mirror after too many fights where the line between winning and surviving blurred. He wasn’t just talking about the story he was telling in the ring. He was talking about everything. “And the only person who has the answer to that question is you, John Cena. I'll see you next week.”
The second the mic dropped, the air in the arena buzzed with electricity. Fans were roaring. Cheering. But I wasn’t looking at them. I was already moving.
Backstage was quieter. Not silent—just hushed in comparison. The kind of calm after a storm, where everything still vibrated beneath the surface. Cody was walking down the hallway when I caught up with him. He heard my footsteps and slowed, glancing back at me. "Hey," I said softly, stepping beside him. "You alright?"
He smiled at me—just a little crooked one. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I gave him a small smile back, but it didn’t reach my eyes. I wanted to believe him. Maybe part of me did. But the part that mattered—the part that came from the same place as the feather still glowing in my hair—knew better. He was fighting more than Cena. And eventually, no matter how much armor he wore… I’d need to be the one standing between him and the edge. Because that’s what family does. And even if the world didn’t know it—Cody was my family.
Cody glanced sideways at me. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Funny you say that.”
We stopped near one of the quiet corners backstage, where a set of crates were stacked and the lighting dimmed. It was the kind of place you could talk and not be overheard. Cody leaned against the wall casually, still catching his breath. I stood in front of him, hands fidgeting for a moment at my sides before I forced them to be still. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I said.
Cody raised an eyebrow. “Alright…”
“It’s gonna sound crazy. I don’t have all the answers, and I’m not expecting you to believe me right away. But it’s important, and you need to hear it.”
He sobered at that, nodding once. “Okay. Shoot.”
I took a breath, grounding myself before I began. “Last night… I had a dream. More than a dream. It felt real. Like... too real to ignore.”
His gaze sharpened slightly, and I could tell he was already bracing for something heavy. “In the dream, I was tested—by legends. Hulk Hogan. Andre the Giant. Eddie Guerrero. Bray Wyatt…”
I saw the way his eyes widened at each name. This wasn’t some ordinary dream. He could feel that already. “And then… your dad.”
At the mention of Dusty, Cody’s entire body shifted. He didn’t move much—just straightened up and tilted his head a bit—but the energy around him changed. Like his breath caught in his chest and his heart suddenly remembered how to ache. “I—I saw him, Cody. He was the last one. The most important. He spoke to me. Tested me… reminded me of what really matters.”
My fingers reached up, and I gently pulled the feather from my hair—the glowing one Dusty had given me. Even now, it shimmered faintly, as if holding the last echo of his presence. “I know it doesn’t make sense,” I added quickly, seeing the way his eyes locked onto it. “I don’t know how it’s real, or why it happened. But he gave me this.”
I stepped closer and held it out to him. “And now I’m giving it to you.”
Cody didn’t take it at first. He just stared at it, like it was something sacred. Something impossible. Like maybe if he blinked, it would vanish. “I know what you’re feeling,” I whispered. “I didn’t believe it either at first. But he’s proud of you, Code. And he loves you. So much.”
Finally, Cody reached out, his fingers brushing against mine as he took the feather gently. His grip was tender, reverent. He turned it slowly in his hand, watching the light glint off the edges. I could see the tears brimming in his eyes, threatening to spill, even though he tried to blink them away. “You really saw him?” he asked, voice soft and raw.
“I did.” I swallowed hard. “He’s watching, still guiding you. Still believing in you.”
His lip quivered—just slightly—before he set the feather carefully against his chest and pulled me into a hug. No words. Just a strong, warm embrace. I held him back instantly, tightly, tears stinging my own eyes now. My cheek pressed against his shoulder as I whispered, “You’re not alone in this. No matter how dark it gets, I’m here. And he is too.”
Cody nodded against me. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice breaking. “For not letting me forget who I am.”
I smiled through the tears. “That’s what family does.”
And in that quiet, dim hallway backstage, for just a moment, the world stood still—two siblings bound not by blood, but by something even deeper. By experiences. By memories. By belief.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBfNkLKzTy1
and then Add to home screen.