The memories flashed through my mind like a film reel. Cal. The hotel pool. The night in Seattle. The talk of the future. The trust. The botch. The hoodie. The look on his face when I left.
The fury erupted.
I didn’t sleep. I stayed in the ring all night, running drills until my lungs burned and my shirt was soaked.
At seven in the morning, I picked up my phone. My hands were shaking.
I dialed the number.
It rang once. Twice.
“This is Mark Murran.”
I almost couldn’t speak. The last time I talked to the Chairman of the UWF was the night he released me.
“Hey, Mark,” I said, my voice raspy. “It’s Silas Reed.”
“Reed!” Mark’s voice boomed. “How are your dad and uncle? How are you?”
He knew. He knew exactly why I was calling. We both did.
“We’re good,” I said. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”
There was a pause. A heavy, knowing silence.
“Silas,” Mark said, his tone shifting. “I’ve been waiting for this call. And dare I say… I knew last night it would come soon after.”
I swallowed hard. “It’s got nothing to do with that.”
“Doesn’t it?” Mark chuckled darkly. “You just watched someone you were in competition with fulfill the spot we had designed foryou.I probably would have put a bullet in my head at the sight.”
I clenched my jaw. He was right. Fuck, I hated that he was right.
“Look, son,” Mark continued, all business now. “I’ve planned for this. You know I did. I retire afterWrestle Empire. My son is taking my position. But effective immediately, and I will tell him as soon as we get off this call, we’ll see you atFront Linesin Philadelphia in November.”
I shuddered, gripping the ropes. “What?”
“You have until November to be ready,” Mark said. “I’ll send you the email with the creative score for this. I told you, Reed. I’ve been waiting. And we made a creative angle just in case this happened. Be looking for it.”
“Welcome back, kid.”
The line went dead.
19
NOVEMBER - PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Now playing: Flames - MOD SUN, Avril Lavigne
Elevenmonths.
Eleven fucking months. Every day I trained, hours, day in and day out. Nobody outside of Maverick and Scott knew I was returning. I didn’t want anyone to know. Not Evan.
Not him.
I flew in at five in the morning, alone. Maverick and Scott wanted to come, tried to insist on it, but I told them I needed to do this on my own. They got it. They felt it. They’ve been here, on the receiving end of a return that the fans, and the locker room, might fucking hate.
I was exhausted, beyond exhausted. I hadn’t slept. I couldn’t.
