Chapter 3
“That’s it, Wolf,” my best friend says when I catch his wife midair after she jumps off the top rope. “Now, take her down!”
Raelynn squirms in my arms, but I adjust my hold, hoisting her onto my shoulders before I fall backwards. She cries out when her spine drives down into the mat. I sit up, watching over my shoulder as she clutches her back and rolls toward the edge of the ring.
Brody stands on the apron in the same corner she retreats to, leaning over the top rope.
The hood of his black sweater is pulled over his shaved head, his piercing gray eyes darting between us, no doubt running through the options of my next move.
The last time his eyes meet mine, he says, “Honor Bound.”
“Damn, you mad at her or something, Brod?”
He laughs, shaking his head, the first time he’s cracked a smile since we started this little showdown.
Raelynn Wilder, better known to the world as “The Queen of Roses” Rae Rose, has been in the ring for countless hours over the last month, preparing for her return to the ring.
She has been out of commission for seven months due to a herniated disc, and I know what she’s feeling all too well.
After I tore my Achilles, the first few weeks back were hell, but if she’s going to get back to normal, she has to keep going.
Rae uses the ropes to pull herself to her feet and squares her shoulders.
She’s tired, I can see it in her eyes, but that’s why we’re doing this.
The ability to keep going, even when you feel like you have nothing left, is one of the most important traits of any professional wrestler.
After tightening her long black ponytail, she uses her hands to beckon me forward.
We lock into a collar-and-elbow-tie-up—one of my palms on the back of Raelynn’s neck, the other cradling her elbow.
Our tie-up slowly dissolves, and I slide my right hand down and take hold of her left wrist. Torquing it out and then back across our bodies, I take control instantly.
Rae’s face contorts as she tries to push my grasp from her wrist, but I maintain the twisted hold.
Ducking to her level, I lift her arm over my head.
She breathes out in a hiss and falls to one knee when I press her hand backwards at the odd angle.
Finally dropping the hold, I drive my elbow into her shoulder, and she cries out, falling to both knees.
I grab her chin and force her to stand, snaking my forearm around her neck and forcing her to bend backward, her back suspended over my right thigh.
I let her hover there for a moment, then pivot and fall backwards to drive her face toward the mat.
Shoving Rae onto her back, I hook her right leg and lift it into the air, pushing her shoulder down. Brody falls to the mat, and his hand slams down three times.
“And your winner…Wolf Bennett!” Brody quietly mocks the sounds of a cheering crowd, earning a glare from the woman next to me. Not exactly the best way to get on your wife’s good side, if you ask me. Not that he would ask me, considering my history with women. “How’d that feel, babe?”
Raelynn takes the hand he extends, but instead of standing, she pulls him down to her level. Swinging her left leg over his torso, she plants her hands on his shoulders, forcing them down on the canvas. Without a second thought, I dive forward and count to three.
“Should’ve seen that one coming, Brod,” a deep voice says outside the ring, followed by a soft, feminine laugh.
All heads turn to see the final third of our trio: Brooks and his wife, Savannah.
John Brooks, better known as Brooks Taylor, is what most people would call the face of our company.
And the woman at his side—Savvy Skye—might be even more popular than he is.
Brooks and Savannah are two of the most recognizable faces in our industry.
People who’ve never watched a single episode of Monday Night Rage—or any EWE show, for that matter—know who they are.
“Traitors, the lot of ya,” Brody says, dusting off his clothes when he stands up.
“Nice of you to join us,” I say, leaning over the top rope to look down at our friends.
I’m surprised they actually showed up, considering they could work out in their home gym instead of having to drive all the way over here.
“You missed the look on some of the newest recruits’ faces when we walked in. ”
When I’m home, I take advantage of living twenty minutes from the state-of-the-art Elite Wrestling Entertainment developmental training facility.
On the outside, NextGen is formed by two long sections of white concrete in an “L” shape, combined in the center by the lobby.
While it looks nicer than the old training center, and is no longer in an old warehouse, it reminds me of a state penitentiary.
The inside, however, is a completely different story.
You’ll find a five-thousand-square-foot fully equipped gym, physical therapy and athletic training rooms, green screen rooms, playback rooms, and a large open space that houses seven fully functional rings.
It’s everything an up-and-coming wrestler could ever dream of, and I won’t deny, I wish we had some of this shit when I was part of NextGen over ten years ago.
Normally, I try to avoid showing up during training hours for two reasons: I don’t want to distract the trainees, and I want to work out without distraction.
Today I wasn’t so lucky. I came face-to-face with a wall of recruits as soon as I walked inside.
Apparently, I missed the memo that they would be here late today.
They lined the center ring, eagerly listening to trainers and EWE legends Juliet Briggs and “The Great” Fata explain what they could expect in the coming weeks.
These were the people looking to become the next Wolf Bennett or Rae Rose, or dare I say the next Brooks Taylor.
And the minute they saw me, followed not long after by Brody and Raelynn, it was obvious their trainers were background noise.
“How’s that back feeling, Rae?” Brooks asks, glancing up at her through the ropes.
“Better. I think I’m done for the night, though.” Rae leans back into Brody’s embrace when he begins to massage her shoulders, digging his thumbs into her traps. “I don’t want to push it. They were hesitant to clear me for training as it is. I don’t want to give them any reason to pull me.”
“Please.” Savannah practically begs. “I’ve been going insane with just these three. I need you back full time as soon as possible.”
“You could always go back to coaching high school cheerleaders,” I say with a smile.
Savannah glares at me. She was a professional cheerleader before she joined EWE on a dare from her brothers.
I didn’t have high expectations for her when she walked into NextGen thirteen years ago.
What did some cheerleader know about being a professional wrestler?
But she quickly proved me and everyone else wrong.
A few years ago, during a short hiatus from the company, she moved back home to Celestia, Texas, where she became the cheer coach at her high school.
Needless to say, that job didn’t last long…
“Watch yourself, Bennett, or I might have to get in there and remind you what it’s like to be in the ring with this cheerleader,” Savannah says with a smirk.
“Give it your best shot.” I chuckle, running my tongue across my top teeth. Her brow raises, and I watch the man beside her roll his eyes, already tired of our antics. “Guarantee I can make you tap in less than five minutes.”
Raelynn sighs. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You talk a lot of trash for someone who got swept the first time he got in the ring with us.”
“That was thirteen years ago, Rae. Let it go,” I say, rolling my own eyes.
She loves to remind me that, despite my seniority, she and Savannah both managed to get the best of me the first time we got in the ring together. It was the week after Sav started at NextGen, the three of us had already become fast friends, and she asked us for help on her takedowns.
Turning back to Savannah, I can see the wheels turning in her head. “What do you say, Sav? Five bucks says I can make you tap out in less than five minutes.”
Her eyes narrow, and slowly the right side of her mouth quirks up. “You’re on, Bennett, but when I win, I don’t want five bucks.”
Oh, no.
“The three of you”—she motions to me, Brooks, and Brody—“have to dress up in Rae’s ring gear, or mine, and record yourselves doing a dance to put on social media.”
“Hey, now!” Brooks takes a step back, looking down at his wife with a deep sense of betrayal. “What did Brody and I do to get pulled into this?”
“Nothing, but having all three of you would make it funnier.”
“She’s not wrong,” Rae adds.
“You sure you want to do this, Wolf?” Brody asks with a pleading look in his eye. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have all the faith in the world that you can do it, but—”
Savannah cuts him off, hopping up to the apron and rolling beneath the bottom rope. “Enough chitchat, let’s do this.”
Pulling back on the towel wrapped around my left foot, I stretch out my Achilles tendon—the same one that tore during my match against Mason Gray at Wrestlefest last year.
It’s been bothering me for the past two weeks, and the last thing I need is another injury.
While I was technically cleared by my doctor and EWE doctors eight months into recovery, my physical therapist wasn’t too keen on the idea of me getting back in the ring anytime soon.
He wanted me to give it another two months, at least, and while I promised him I’d consider it, the moment I heard the doctor say “cleared,” the only thing I could think about was getting back into the ring.
I called Brody and Brooks as soon as I walked out of the doctor’s office and asked them when they could meet me at NextGen.