The plan for today was simple. I was to hole up in my hotel room all day.Don’t leave. Don’t be seen.
When it was time to get to the venue, I’d leave through the back entrance of the hotel, escorted by security, my face covered, hood up, sunglasses on.
From there, they’d load me into a car, and I’d quietly, swiftly be taken to the arena. I’d come through the back with only fifteen seconds to spare before my music would hit. The hallways would be cleared. Nobody would be around for this.Just me, and the new Chairman of the UWF, Presley Murran, the poster child for a white, wealthy rich kid handed a multi-million-dollar company by his legendary father.
Once inside, I’d walk through Gorilla and out the curtain, my music playing, and me, just standing there. Looking ahead. Challenging the Heavyweight Champion with my very presence.
Deadlock.
No fight. No words. Nothing. Just me. Just eye contact.
“Timeless” Silas Reed was back in the UWF to reclaim what he lost. Or maybe, Silas Reed was just standing here, begging for some kind of forgiveness.
Callum had no idea this was happening. Nobody on the roster did. All Cal knew was his team was set to win the War zone match, his specialty, his expertise, thanks to me and my fuck up seven years ago.
But the kicker of this sell? I was in Cal’s city. The place that saw him as royalty.
And I was fixing to steal his thunder. That alone was a kick in the balls.
I paced my room the entire day. I drank the shitty hotel room coffee like water. I fidgeted on my phone. I watched TV. I tried to calm my nerves, but I couldn’t, not even a little bit.
I officially signed my contract first thing this morning, in the fucking airport of all places. A multi-year deal with a massive payout, a payout that would make it so if I wanted, I didn’t have to re-sign when this one expired.
It was no secret in the wrestling world, even with my fuck up, that I was a hot commodity. The longer I stayed away, the more every company wanted me. The indies, the rival companies that tried to be on the same level as the UWF, anyone that thought they could make money off of me tried. And I turned it down every time.
At least, until I was ready. And I guess seeing Cal win was enough to make me ready.
It wasn’t jealousy. I don’t think it was, anyway. It was something else entirely. A need to take what was mine. But also, the only person I could imagine by my side while doing it, in some sick fucking way, was Callum Kincaid. Even if he was the one standing across the squared circle from me.
The hours ticked by, and finally, it was time.
I slid on my shirt, a new “Timeless” design. I tossed a solid black hoodie on over top, slid on black jeans, some worn out Doc Martens, and grabbed my phone and sunglasses. It was happening. There was no going back now.
The knock on the door came soon after. I tugged on my hoodie, pulling the strings tight to hide my hair. It was longer now, not like my dad’s used to be, but longer than how I used to keep it buzzed. I had the shadow of facial hair too, something my dad and uncle hated. But for me, it made me feel less like I looked like them. Which, for me, was a good thing.
I stood at the door and took a sharp inhale as I slid the glasses on and turned the knob. This was it.
As soon as I stepped out, I was surrounded by security. Nobody could see me, and if they could, they couldn’t seewhoI was.
We went down the stairwell, flight after flight, until we reached the exit. We slid out swiftly and I climbed into the back of a black SUV.
The driver didn’t speak. We just rode in silence. This was agony. The arena was ten minutes away, but those ten minutes felt like ten hours.
As soon as the car stopped moving, my door was surrounded by security again. I didn’t dare open it, worried I’d fuck this up. A large guard pulled it open, and I hopped out. We walked through a dark back entrance that was only illuminated by floodlights. As soon as I was through the door and it clicked shut, I was greeted by Presley Murran. He looked remarkably like his father, Mark, but younger, sharper, and dressed in a suit that cost more than my first car.
“Silas, it’s good to have you,” he said, shaking my hand firmly.
I nodded. “Thank you guys for having me back.”
We started walking immediately. There was no time to waste. The hallways were cleared, no crew, no roster, nothing. Backstage was a ghost town, and somehow it made this entire experience more sickening. We were nearly running to Gorilla, and I was ripping the glasses and hoodie off as we went. There really wasn’t a second to waste.
We got to Gorilla and I dropped my stuff on the table where the match producers and Presley sat during shows.
“Welcome back, Reed,” Presley said with a smile as I stepped to the edge of the curtain.
Cal’s music was playing.
He’d just won another War Zone match. Another match with a team I’m sure was better than the first one he participated in with me.
