Where My Demons Hide

Oct. 15, early morning
Wolfslair Gym
Orlando, Florida

After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning, Lachlan Kane decided to put the restless energy building up inside him to better use. After quietly slipping out of bed to avoid waking Sierra, he dressed and gathered his gym bag and headed over to the Wolfslair gym to get some training in. His mind had been everywhere but on his upcoming PWE match, a fact he was about to remedy.

Unlocking the front door, he headed to the locker rooms and changed into his workout attire. He walked back out onto the floor, heading for the hanging punching bag in the corner. After wrapping his hands up, he warmed up his muscles for a few moments before going to town on the bag.

“Woah cuz, what did that punching bag ever do to you?”

Lachlan paused mid-swing to glance back at his cousin Alfie, who had just walked into the gym. “You’re here early,” he commented, picking up a towel to wipe away the sweat on his face.

“Could say the same for you,” the young Brit chuckled, lightly punching Lach’s shoulder. “Getting a jump start on the day?”

“Something like that,” Lach mumbled, moving to sit on the bench near the wall. “Haven’t really been sleeping well. Just had a lot on my mind lately.”

Alfie’s face sobered, and he took a seat next to him. “Yeah, I know. That whole thing with Mal was hard to watch. Not to mention losing your father in law too.”

Lachlan sighed, running a hand down his face. “I just…I’m feeling like I’m being pulled in so many directions all at once. If anything else happens, I’m liable to split my body open, and who knows what kind of demon is gonna come crawling out?”

“…maybe you should let it.”

An eyebrow raised over Lachlan’s eye. “Come again?”

Alfie shrugged. “Hey, this witch has got it coming and then some. First the babies, then threatening your father in law, and now busting Mal’s arm? I say let her have it.”

Lach was contemplative for a moment, before a sly smirk appeared on his face. “You know Alf, you just may be right.”

———-

Sitting on a chair in a darkened room, one lone dim spotlight shining above him, Lachlan Kane’s gaze was trained directly on the camera in front of him, his bright blue eyes glaring daggers at the lens. His hands were folded tightly together, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, filling the screen with his intimidating presence. His lilting Irish brogue was edged with a harsh tone that was somewhat out of the ordinary for him.

“Anyone who knows anything about me knows just how much family means to me. Everything I am, everything I do is for my family. And when someone foolishly decides to tempt fate and mess with them…well, they tend to find out the hard way why that is a very, very bad idea.”

He shifted to lean back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. “But for right now, I’m going to put that to the side and focus on my upcoming match against TJ Alexander. A man who...well, let’s just call a spade a spade. He hasn’t really made the impact he set out to make since arriving at PWE. Like me, he’s a day-one acquisition. Like me, he didn’t make it past the first round of the championship tournament. But unlike me, he has failed to gain any momentum in the company since then. After the first Victory show, he went toe to toe with Nathaniel Cartwright, and came out on the losing end.” He raises his hand, extending his index finger to point at himself. “Whereas I am sitting pretty with two wins under my belt. Now, I realize that PWE is still a fairly new company, and the scales can tip any which way on any given day. All it takes is three quick seconds, and anyone’s luck can change in an instant.”

He leaned forward again, eyes still blazing. “But I’ve got too much to fight for to let it all slip through my fingers now. And I’m certainly not going to tarnish my win streak by losing to someone as insignificant as TJ Alexander. You may think you’re gonna walk into that ring - MY ring - and make your comeback off of my name.” He shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the camera. “You haven’t got a bloody chance in hell, mate. There’s a reckoning coming, and you just happen to be the unfortunate victim that’s been put in my way this week. If I were you, I wouldn’t have any high expectations of yourself for this match, because I am coming for blood. And at this point, I’m really not picky on whose I get. So I’ll give you a friendly piece of advice, and I really suggest you heed this one.”

He stood up from the chair, and the camera followed him as his face filled the screen. His blue eyes seemed to flicker and flash red as he spoke this last phrase…

“Run."