Rhea's Web.

Chapter 2

"Oh," Y/N replied, a knot tightening in his stomach. "I got my match with Edge soon."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Rhea said, her tone flat, almost challenging. "Let's see if you get one on your own this time."

Y/N bristled slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rhea stepped closer, invading his personal space, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, yet still carrying a powerful weight. "This is your first solo match ever on a PPV. You're bound to be nervous. I know I was." 

As she spoke, she leaned in slightly, her dark hair brushing his ear, and Y/N found his eyes drifting, involuntarily, down her gear. 

The cut was deep, aggressive, leaving little to the imagination, and for a fleeting, mortifying second, he saw the curve of her cleavage. 

He instantly dragged his gaze back to her eyes, his cheeks burning.

"When was that?" he managed, trying to sound casual, trying to ignore the heat spreading through him.

"Like five years ago," she murmured, a ghost of a smile touching her lips, as if she knew exactly where his eyes had strayed.

"Wow, ages ago," Y/N said, trying to regain some composure.

"I know," she conceded, stepping back slightly, though her presence still dominated the small room. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, I haven't really given it much thought," Y/N admitted. "I've been too focused on Edge."

"So what's your game plan?" she pressed, her intensity infectious.

Y/N gestured vaguely at his kinesio-taped arm. "Um, try to keep my shoulder protected."

Rhea scoffed, a soft, dismissive sound. She took another step closer, leaning into him again, her arm brushing his. "That's not enough, Y/N. He's going to target it no matter what you do. It's your weak spot, you're already fighting with one arm behind your back, and you're making it worse."

 Her eyes bored into his, demanding an answer. "What's his weak spot?"

"His neck," Y/N answered automatically, the words escaping him before he could think. It was common knowledge, Edge's history of debilitating neck injuries.

"Good," Rhea said, a dangerous satisfaction in her tone. She was so close now, he could feel the warmth radiating from her, smell the faint, clean scent of her perfume. "Target his neck. It's being held together with Sellotape and prayer. Target it."

Y/N flinched. "But after that surgery and all that... I can'—"

"Y/N, he took out your mentor," Rhea interrupted, her voice hardening, "he sidelined AJ Styles. Are you really going to let that slide? You need to punish him for that. You understand?" Her face was inches from his, her dark eyes boring into his, demanding an answer.

"Yeah, it just feels wrong," Y/N confessed, squirming slightly under her intense gaze, acutely aware of how close she was, how dangerously captivating. He was a wrestler, not a barbarian. There were lines, even in this business.

"Was it wrong when Edge conchairto'd AJ Styles?" Rhea challenged, her eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, but two wrongs don't make a right," Y/N countered, trying to hold onto his moral compass.

Rhea let out a low, almost contemptuous chuckle. "Sometimes the thing that appears wrong is the right thing to do. This isn't about playing fair, Y/N. This is about survival. This is about making a statement." She leaned back slightly, giving him a fraction of breathing room, though her presence still dominated.