Chapter Text
Dominik hoped that the first rays of morning sun would bring clarity, that he could discard these freshly unearthed feelings as momentary lapses in judgment. He would wake up, look over at Liv’s face, so peaceful and beautiful in sleep, and all his doubts and thoughts of repentance would vanish.
He should have known it was only wishful thinking.
He wakes up before Liv, but her sweet features and lightly fluttering lashes as she dreams fail to stir him the way they did mere days ago. He feels the blows from yesterday’s match etched into every bone and muscle in his body, and he aches to fall back asleep. But every time he closes his eyes, Rhea haunts him- her cruelty, her gentleness, her love - and leaves him unable to rest. His heart is uneasy, heavy and aching with guilt, and every time he’s about to drift off, he sees flashes of her face, the way he’d left her at Summerslam. At the time, her shocked disbelief had brought him satisfaction, even pleasure, but now all he wanted was to erase the heartbreak from her eyes.
But nothing can change the past, as much as he might wish otherwise.
Which is why he’s sitting with Finn in the hotel’s dining room, waiting for the others so they can order breakfast.
“Where’s JD and Carlito?” He asks, “Still sleeping it off?”
The newer Judgement Day had a habit of celebrating their wins hard, and drowning their sorrows after a loss even harder. The empty bottles that cluttered the table of their hotel rooms after a match would have had Rhea and Damian seeing red, especially if they had to travel the next morning. They were no strangers to celebrations, of course, but they were also major advocates of responsible consumption.
Finn hums in confirmation.
“Where’s Liv?” His lips curl in a wolfish grin, “Wore her out last night, did you?”
Dominik shrugs with a small smile- small enough not to seem strained. Even if he wasn’t having second thoughts about his new relationship, the topic would be uncomfortable enough on its own.
“Good lad!” Finn guffaws, clapping him on the shoulder from across the table, “Look at you, a real man!”
He bites hard at the inside of his cheek, trying not to give away how much that comment sickens him. He’s no man- there’s nothing manly about cheating on a girlfriend that loved you with her mortal enemy.
“So, what’s the plan for the next few weeks?” He cuts in, trying to change the subject.
“All in good time, brother.” Finn waves dismissively, “We’ll wait until the others get here. In the meantime… Tell me, Liv treating you right?”
“Um…” He clears his throat. Finn never would have dared to ask this shit when Rhea was around, “Yeah, she is.”
A few days ago, he probably would have bragged to Finn about all the ways he made her come undone the night before, but now the topic just makes him want to squirm.
“I knew it! I knew you’d be happier with her. I told you so, didn’t I?”
Right, Finn had been the first one to encourage him to pick Liv. Not that the older man was the only one to blame, of course- Dominik is twenty-seven years old and perfectly capable of making his own decisions. No, the pain he caused Rhea is no one’s fault but his own.
“You did.” He agrees.
“She suits you much better. Your situation with Rhea,” He shakes his head disapprovingly, “It was no way for a man to live.”
He laughs along with the Irish man, but clenches his fists under the table. What the fuck would Finn know about Rhea’s treatment of him? Sure, the faction was close, but the truth of their relationship happened mostly behind closed doors, without even Finn and Damian. Rhea wasn’t just the prickly, intimidating embodiment of strength that everyone thought she was. She could be sweet, gentle, even vulnerable in a way few were privy to.
“What are you doing, Dom Dom?”
He feels gentle, pointed nails running through his hair and scratching lightly over his scalp. He relaxes into the touch as his eyes continue running over the intricate swirls and shapes decorating Rhea’s championship belt. The gold glimmers under the harsh fluorescents in the clubhouse, reflecting mesmerizing patterns that dance along his pupils.
“Looking at your belt.” He admits almost bashfully, “It’s pretty.”
Rhea chuckles, the warmth of her amusement washing over him and relaxing his muscles better than a warm bath. She sits next to him on the couch, cushioning her head on his shoulder as she joins him in admiring the proof of her dominance sitting on the table.
“It is pretty.” She agrees.
“And shiny.” He adds.
“You’re like a crow.” She laughs, eyes crinkled with mirth.
He hums questioningly.
“Crows love shiny things.”
“That makes sense.” He turns his head to the side, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the smell of her lavender shampoo greedily, “Because I love you .”
“Are you saying I’m shiny?”
“The shiniest.” He reinforces, wrapping his arms around her waist to properly cuddle into her side, “And the prettiest.”
“I love you too, my little crow.”
“Daddy Dom!”
He’s brought crashing back into reality at the sound of Liv’s voice calling for him as she saunters through the dining room to their table.
“Hey, princess.” He greets, quickly bringing her to sit on his lap before she can see the discomfort playing across his face. She presses a kiss to his lips as she settles in.
JD and Carlito aren’t too far behind, both sporting pitch-black sunglasses and almost certainly top tier hangovers.
“What’s goin’ on, boys!” He greets, taking a bit of petty pleasure in how his voice makes them cringe.
“Too loud.” Carlito groans, “Not cool.”
“I told you boys to call it a night.” Finn chastises, looking considerably less amused than Dominik, “We’ve got to hit the ground running today.”
“Can’t this wait until we’re back in the U.S?” JD complains, “We’re gonna be traveling all day today, anyway.”
“We will.” Finn nods, “Which means we’ll have hours on the plane to fine-tune our strategy for this Monday.”
“Finn’s right, guys.” Dominik encourages, “We gotta find a way to stop Rhea and Damian’s momentum, right?”
“Good lad. Damian will be easy, since we can gang up on him, but Rhea’s difficult.”
“Oh, please,” Liv scoffs, “I can handle Ripley all on my own.”
Like hell you can.
“Of course you can.” Finn nods, “But just in case, we need to make sure that Dom’s with you at all times.”
Dominik’s gaze snaps to Finn.
“I figured this would be the case,” The Irish man continues, “But Bash only confirmed it- Dominik’s the perfect distraction.”
Right, because she hates me, because I kissed her mortal enemy in front of her and cost her the title.
“That’s true,” Liv snorts as she turns to look at Dominik, “She might hate you more than she hates me.”
“We’ve already done this once.” Finn adds, “But we need to push any advantage we can. Whenever Rhea goes for you, Liv will take her out from behind.”
“Works for me.” He plasters on a smirk, hiding the relief blooming in his chest. He and Liv are already around each other constantly, if he has a reason to be there when she confronts Rhea, he might be able to play some damage control to make sure things don’t get too out of hand.
He remembers that night a few weeks after Summerslam, when Rhea was so focused on putting him through a table that Liv was able to take her by surprise with a steel chair. He remembers her cries of pain, remembers Damian’s fury as he promised violence on Dominik and the others, and he remembers the muted, nauseous feeling deep in his gut. He’d set it aside, at the time, so sure that it was like a phantom limb of feeling, a mere artifact of his affection for Rhea, but now it’s clear that these artifacts are far from ancient.
He can’t be obvious about it- he doubts he’ll be able to do much at all- but hopefully he can keep Rhea in relatively good health until her next title shot, which is only a matter of time. Rhea pinned Liv at Bash, after all, it only makes sense that she gets another chance.
He neglects to mention this to the others. If they can’t predict Rhea’s demand, then far be it from him to enlighten them.
The waitress comes over to take their orders, and Dominik tries to pick something relatively healthy- he can’t rely on anyone to keep his diet and fitness on track anymore. He finally settles on an egg white omelet, drawing a few odd looks from his companions, before turning his attention back to Finn.
He takes in the older man, looking over his confident posture and knowing smirk as the others look to him for advice and strategy. People don’t often credit Dominik for his skills of observation, but he’s far from oblivious, especially when he makes an effort to pay attention. It was part of his job when he was at ringside with Rhea- keep watch for an opening, then distract the ref or her opponent when he could. She always saw potential in him, when others would have disregarded his talent.
Now that he’s looking, Finn has positioned himself in the middle of the table, where he has a clear view of the rest of their faction- he positioned himself like a leader.
No leaders, no egos? We really are morons.
Finn Bálor has taken complete control of the Judgement Day while preaching about equal power, and no one even bothered to question him.
Not that Dominik’s going to start; he needs to keep his head down for as long as possible.
He tries to pay attention to the conversation as much as he can, but their planning session quickly turns into a round of petty insults aimed at Rhea and Damian.
“Those two always thought they were so great.” Finn spits, scowling around his spinach omelet, “ Terror Twins , what a stupid name.”
“All brawn, no brains.” JD adds.
You’re one to talk.
He doesn’t mean to summon such a venomous thought, but he can no longer think of these men as his friends. Now, they’re traitors, cowards, enemies. He knows he’s being a hypocrite, but all that matters to him now is making things right with the woman he loves.
“And all that dark makeup.” Liv chuckles, “She looks like she should be an assistant manager at Hot Topic.”
She looks at him expectantly, and it takes him a second to realize he usually contributes more to these conversations.
“Yeah,” He tacks on lamely around a mouthful of egg whites, “You’re way prettier than her.”
Liv beams at him, seemingly satisfied with his addition.
The words linger in his mouth, sour and wrong. It’s not that Liv isn’t attractive, but Rhea has always been in her own category, in his eyes- to compare the two wouldn’t be fair. After all, how could a peacock measure up to a phoenix?
Finn eyes him up and down from across the table, and Dominik is reminded that the other man is equally shrewd. He gives him a crooked smile and yawns, feigning tiredness with only minimal effort. Finn moves his gaze back to Carlito as he lists things about Damian that are Not Cool, apparently taking his exhaustion at face value.
He eats quietly, only chiming in when prompted while keeping an eye on the time, counting down the seconds until he can excuse himself. Finally, the clock signals an acceptable time to call their meeting to an end.
“We should get going.” Dominik speaks up, gently nudging Liv off his lap, “We don’t want to risk missing our flight.”
“Daddy Dom’s right.” She agrees, “All this overseas travel is stressful.”
“You’re just paranoid about your luggage going missing again.” Dominik laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders and playing the part of teasing boyfriend.
“Hey, that was a crisis!” She swats at his shoulder playfully.
“Right, then.” Finn gets up, “Go get your things and we’ll carpool to the airport, yeah?”
Dominik nods, allowing Liv to pull him out of the dining room and to the elevators.
“Think we’ve got time for a quickie?” She whispers in his ear once the sliding doors close.
“I don’t think so, kitten.” He deflects, “We gotta make sure to get to the airport early, right?”
It’s a beautifully convenient excuse, especially given Liv’s anxieties about air travel.
She pouts at him, but sighs.
“You’re right, still… maybe we could join the mile high club?”
“Yeah,” He hums noncommittally, “Maybe.”
It’s going to be a long day.
He goes into the Raw after Bash in Berlin with a loose but adaptable plan- don’t let Rhea get hurt.
Unfortunately, this plan goes to shit almost immediately after the opening music.
Rhea’s there, looking as breathtaking as always, as she demands a title match, having pinned Liv at Bash. He follows the plan that Finn determined on the plane; he goes out, pays lip service, and insists that Liv will take on Rhea anytime and any place.
The spiel is a struggle to get through with her staring him down like an insect on the bottom of her shoe- all smug superiority and mild disdain- which is one of the top three looks she can give him that makes him hot under the collar.
Has she always owned those pants?
Focus, he needs to focus.
Correction, he needs to focus on the plan and running damage control and not how amazing Rhea looks in those shiny, stretchy pants.
He doesn’t have enough time to make a fool of himself, though, because Rhea’s elbow shoots out quick enough to catch Liv’s attempted ambush before she gets close enough to strike, and Dominik should be worried about his girlfriend but Rhea’s gaze locks onto him, and he can almost feel the cold promise of violence dancing across his skin as he turns tail and runs.
He’s not fast enough, and her hand fists in his hair as she drags him back toward the apron. He has to clamp his mouth shut against a truly embarrassing moan at the feeling of those sharp-tipped fingers yanking his hair and digging into his scalp, and he hopes there’s too much excitement for her to catch how his eyes roll back. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s felt her touch like this.
But then the delicious pain is gone, and he turns just in time to see Liv pushing Rhea over, her leg tangled in the rope. Panic shoots through him and he moves on pure instinct, lifting his foot so that the soft leather of his boot meets her head instead of the hard wood and metal of the apron.
Liv pushes her assault, kicking at Rhea before yanking her head back and pressing a harsh, mocking kiss to her cheek- no doubt meant to be payback for the lick at Bash. He’s torn on how to handle the situation. He has to stop Liv, but he can’t arouse suspicion.
Damian. Where is Damian? He should be out here with her.
He grows increasingly tense with each strike, berating himself for being too much of a coward to step in and stop Liv himself.
Then, he spots a flash of movement as Damian comes sprinting down the ramp. Finally having an excuse, Dominik grabs Liv’s arm and wastes no time rushing into the stands. He looks over his shoulder to see Damian lifting Rhea back to an upright position as she clutches at her knee.
Shit. Shit .
He had one job, he had one fucking job- keep Rhea safe enough for her to have a clean match at full health to get her title back- and the very first encounter after his self-imposed mission, he finds a way to fuck it up.
Liv drags him to the clubhouse, laughing in delight at the pain they just caused.
“Did you see her face?” Liv asks, almost breathless, “She looked so stupid! There’s no way she’ll be able to challenge me for the belt now.”
Dominik takes a few moments to catch his breath, pushing down his mounting panic and trying to summon a smile to match his girlfriend’s. Guilt and fear mix in a dangerous combination in his gut, even as his scalp tingles with the memory of her hands in his hair.
“Dom?” Liv picks up on his discomfort.
“I’m good babe.” He lies, “Just a little shaken up. She almost got me!”
“Don’t worry, Daddy.” She cups his face in her hands, running a gentle thumb over his bruised eye, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“I know you won’t.” He presses a kiss to her forehead so she can’t see the frustration on his face.
He needs to find a way to fix this, or at least try and stop anything else from happening.
“I’m gonna go find the guys.” He says, “Damian’s probably gonna want revenge for what happened tonight.”
Liv makes a disgusted sound at the back of her throat.
“That’s true. I still can’t believe she found someone else to turn into her lap dog. No offense, Daddy Dom! I know you were only with her because she took advantage of you.” She places a gentle hand on his arm, “You’re free from her, now. Oh, and we can’t forget your match tonight! Soon, we’ll both be holding titles and will officially be WWE’s hottest power couple!”
He manages a wan smile, kissing her cheek before rushing off, though his gut bubbles with rage. His relationship with Rhea might have started with her attacking him, but she didn’t manipulate him the way everyone seemed to think.
He sits on a crate in a rarely used storage closet, occupied only briefly by the occasional stagehand, and tries to breathe through a panic attack.
He attacked Edge and his father in front of thousands of people- millions, if he counts everyone watching through a TV set. He drags his fingers harshly through his hair, using the pulling pressure-pain to ground himself.
He’s fucked. He is so, totally fucked.
His father’s going to chew him out if Edge doesn’t get to him first. Honestly, a lecture is probably the best case scenario- Edge’s punishment will probably take on a more physical form.
He should apologize, he should crawl back to Rey on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness. But- fuck- he doesn’t want to .
Where was his apology when Edge speared him? Where was the apology when his father lied to him by omission?
But, still, he’s Rey Mysterio’s son. What does he have without his family?
The sound of the door creaking open rips him from his anxious spiral. He looks up, expecting his father or a PA coming to summon him on his family’s behalf.
What he doesn’t expect is five feet and seven inches of muscle and leather to saunter in like she owns the place.
Rhea Ripley.
Her presence intrigues him as much as it terrifies him, for as much pain as she’s caused him, there’s also been a strange tenderness. He recalls the way she’d talked him down when he aimed a kendo stick at her, promising not to hurt him and soothing him in hushed tones. In the end, she’d kept her word, not turning the harsh wood on his skin.
“Thought I might find you here.” She drawls with a smirk, “Dom Dom.”
His heart skips a beat at the nickname- he shouldn’t like it, it’s patronizing and demeaning, but somehow it sounds almost tender when it comes from her lips.
“Please, Rhea.” He groans, rubbing over his face with his hand, “Not now. I just can’t do it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Please, no mind games, no beatings- I can’t deal with it right now. I’m already dealing with enough shit right now.”
“Oh, trust me, I saw.” Her voice drips satisfaction.
“Rhea-” He sucks in a harsh breath as her hand, almost shockingly gentle, cups his chin and tips his head up. Her eyes are hooded, sea-trench dark gaze peeling him open for her perusal.
“Why did you do it?” Her Australian rasp is somehow thundering in the quiet space.
“I… don’t know.”
She ‘tsks,’ digging her nails into his skin lightly.
“Don’t lie to me, Dom Dom. Tell me the truth. Why did you attack Edge and your father?”
“I…” He swallows hard, trying to look into her eyes without flinching away, “I was tired.”
“Tired of what?”
It's like she's slashed him open, truth bubbling from his throat like blood.
“Of my father, of his legacy, of only ever being the son of the Great Rey Mysterio. I was tired of being a spare part, some third wheel with him and Edge, and I was so fucking tired of being treated like a child, of being expected to shut up and follow directions without being told the plan.”
Her grip loosens, and something soft- and, dare he say, kind- shimmers in her eyes.
“Congratulations, Dominik.” She smiles, small and sweet and proud, “You’ve finally figured it out.”
“Figured it out?”
“You were never gonna be your own man while hiding in your father’s shadow, especially with Edge around. You were going to be left behind.”
Her words, as painful as they are, ring with truth.
“You know he never apologized.” Dominik huffs, somehow growing comfortable with his father’s enemy holding him like something precious, “He speared me and didn’t even say he was sorry. He just expected me to suck it up and move on.”
“Yeah,” Something cold and bitter leaks into her gaze, “He’s like that.”
He remembers their betrayal, the cruelty they treated their once-mentor with, and remembers wondering how someone could do that to the person they promised their loyalty to.
Now, he thinks he understands.
“You see it, don’t you?”
How can she know? How can she look at him and read his mind as though she’s embedded her very presence in his frontal lobe?
“Edge was never going to give us the opportunities we deserved. We were only ever meant to be his henchmen and bodyguards.”
“To sit under the branches of his learning tree.” The metaphor was pretentious even when he thought of the man as family.
She barks out a laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth, and he wishes he could see her smile like this every day.
“Tell me, Dom Dom.” She releases his face, instead running sharp-tipped fingers through his hair, scratching over his scalp and sending shivers down his spine, “When you kicked Edge and took down your father- how did it feel?”
He looks up at her, at the halo formed behind her by the fluorescent lights, at her crystal-blue eyes and black-painted lips and sinful, knowing smirk.
She peels back his layers of lies and comforting delusions, to the sick, twisted thing inside him that reveled in the chaos he caused.
“It felt good.” He finally whispers, “It felt so fucking good.”
Rhea grins, wide and victorious, and yanks his head back, eliciting a moan at the sting, then crushes her lips to his. Her tongue forces its way into his mouth as she tastes him, and liquid heat floods his system with almost overpowering force. He feels the metal of a piercing and he is gone. Then, she pulls away before he can reciprocate.
“And how did that feel?” Her voice is heavy and knowing.
He looks up at her, panting as though she’s stolen the very breath from his lungs, and realizes that Rhea Ripley is going to carve her bloody initials into his heart.
“Even better.” He breathes.
“Good answer.” She releases his hair, and he almost whines from the absence.
“Edge is going to be out for blood, you know.” She says, fixing her hair and seeming completely unaffected. Not even her black lipstick is smudged, and something about that fact gets his blood pumping even more.
Dominik manages a very intelligent ‘huh?’ Which he honestly thinks is the most anyone could expect of him.
“Edge.” Her chuckle is light and amused, “He’s gonna want revenge.”
And just like that, he comes crashing back to Earth, the blissful tingling in his lips replaced with the cold reality of his situation.
“If you want to handle it on your own, we won’t stop you. If you want to crawl back to Daddy and beg for forgiveness, it’s your funeral, but…” She looks at him, and he must be hallucinating because he swears she looks a little sad, a little broken, “We could protect you.”
“We?” He questions as he catches her meaning, “You mean the Judgment Day? The reason I’m even in this situation in the first place?”
“If you believe that,” Her sorrow vanishes, replaced with indignance, “Then you’re too far gone for me to deal with. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t feel like this without us.”
He tries, he really does, but the past two years of playing second fiddle to his father weigh heavily on his soul.
He looks away, turning downcast eyes to a shelf of spare spotlights.
“Just… think about it.” She urges softly, placing her hand on the handle of the door, “We would look after you. I would look after you.”
He swallows hard. Rhea, assuming their conversation is finished, opens the door, starting to step over the threshold shielding them from the rest of the world.
“Wait.”
She pauses, brow raised expectantly.
He takes a deep breath, mustering every ounce of nerve he has left.
“I’ll think about it.”
She bares her teeth and a grin, and he can tell she knows that she’s won.
“That’s all I ask, Dom Dom.”
With that, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Dominik presses his fingers to his lips, tracing the burning heat that her kiss left behind.
He can put up all the resistance he wants, but he knows that he’ll do anything she asks, as long as she’ll kiss him again.
Finn and the others are probably backstage talking with Adam, but he takes the scenic route past medical in hopes of catching sight of Rhea or someone that can update him on her condition.
He hears her before he sees her, spitting curses and threats at the medics that have her cornered on a crate by a table cluttered with basic medical supplies. He presses himself against the wall, peeking cautiously around the corner to watch the scene in front of him unfold. She’s clutching at her knee, eyes wide with a potent mix of anger, pain, and- buried so deep only he and Damian would even recognize it- fear.
Of course. She just came back from injury. If her knee is badly damaged, they might force her onto the shelf again for another three months.
Damian’s there, talking her down in the calm, patient tone he saves especially for her and urging her to let the medics work. He promises punishment and vengeance before stalking off to find Pearce, and Dominik ducks into a nearby storage closet to avoid the older man’s sight.
When he works up the nerve to look back at Rhea, she’s being helped down off the crate and into the medical room, supported on one side by the medics. If she’s not refusing their help, she must be in more pain than he thought.
Gut twisting with guilt, he spies one of the medics outside the room, gathering up a few heavy-looking objects that Rhea must have thrown while being checked out.
“Hey.” He calls to him, sidling up as casually as he can, “Is she doing okay?”
The medic looks at him, blinking in surprise, before his face smooths into cool indifference.
“I can’t disclose that information.”
“I’m not asking for specifics, man.” He tries again, “Just if her knee’s still functional.”
He can tell the man is struggling to remain professional, but Dominik also can’t fault him for any hostility that leaks through. After all, he’s the reason her knee was even hurt to begin with.
“I repeat- I cannot disclose that information.” The medic repeats firmly, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
With that, he ducks into the medical room.
Dominik sighs, running rough fingers through his hair as he departs to find Finn.
She’ll be fine, he tells himself, She’s strong- the strongest!
He hopes it’s not just empty comfort.
He finds their self-appointed leader easily as he and JD exit Pearce’s office.
“Well?” He asks, “What’s up?”
“Damian wants a match.” Finn snorts, “Like he deserves it.”
“We told him we’d only agree to a tag match.” JD adds, “There’s no way he’ll find a partner. The only friend he’s got is Rhea, and she’s in no condition to fight, thanks to you and Liv.”
Please, don’t remind me.
“Now, Carlito and Liv will be free to help you out in your match tonight, Rhea is taken out of the equation, and Damian’s going to be so worried about finding a partner for tonight, he’s not gonna be causing issues for us for at least a week.”
“Yeah,” He tries for a smile, “For sure…”
“Trust me, boys,” Finn slings an arm around Dominik’s shoulders, “There’s not a single man on that roster that will tag with Damian. He doesn’t have a faction, and he doesn’t have a title to leverage anymore. We’re all good.”
Dominik can’t help but be a little relieved- Damian is tough, but without Rhea backing him up, he’s got no counter to any interference Liv would introduce. Dominik really doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting both Rhea and her only ally in the same night in one move.
He sighs, tension in his chest loosening for the first time all night- there’s no way Damian can find a partner for tonight.
So, Damian found a partner for tonight.
Well, more accurately, Rhea found Damian a partner for tonight. One particular partner that’s been flirting with her for two years and has been a general pain in Dominik’s ass since before he joined the Judgement Day. And now, as a personal favor to the woman he loves, Jey Uso is tagging with Damian against Finn and JD.
He shouldn’t feel jealous, he has no right to feel jealous, but Jey was a source of insecurity even when he and Rhea were together, so to see him coming through for her when Dominik can’t has his hackles raised.
But, he doesn’t have time to worry about that tonight, because he’s set to compete in the contender’s match for the IC title- one less person to throw a wrench in Damian and Jey’s match. He won’t be able to keep an eye on Liv, but Carlito is still supposed to help him out from ringside, so that’s at least one less person to worry about.
All the moving parts are starting to make his brain hurt- things were so much easier when he could just let Rhea come up with the plans- but he owes her this.
Of course, his contender’s match goes to shit.
It’s only what he deserves, he supposes. He really wanted to win clean- well, as clean as he can- but then Carlito had to come along and make a nuisance of himself, which meant that Damian had to come out to even the score.
Of course, Dominik could ignore their conflict on the outside of the ring- he really should just focus on the match- but he doesn’t need to give Carlito a reason to be pissed at him or Finn a reason to distrust him, so he interferes.
The sliding kick he aims at Damian’s head is far from his best effort, but he’s still shocked at how unaffected the larger man is at the impact, and a rush of ice-cold terror floods his system at Damian’s slow, unimpressed look in his direction.
Any fight instinct he has left evaporates in favor of flight, and he slides out of the ring just as Damian lunges toward him.
Shit, shit, shit! Is the mantra repeating in his head as he careens through the stands and rushes backstage. If he can lose Damian in the winding halls of the stadium, he can probably hide out until the tag match comes- maybe he can even get back to his contender’s match and sneak a win.
There’s an angry roar behind him, followed shortly by the clang of a folding chair as it collides with the wall.
Wishful thinking.
It takes some doing, but he finally manages to lose Damian in the bowels of the venue, ducking in and out of storage rooms and avoiding the more populated areas like catering and medical. Damian might not be well-loved in the locker room, but Dominik might be one of the only wrestlers on the men’s roster to be largely hated, and he has no doubt anyone would sell him out to Damian in a heartbeat.
He takes some extra time to lay low, all the while keeping his ears peeled for the cheers of the audience that signal the match’s continuance. He eventually emerges from backstage, lingering near the gorilla and waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Ilja and Dragon Lee seem to be flagging, having worn each other out during the match, and it would be easy- so fucking easy- to rush out and hit one of them with a drop kick or frog splash and steal a victory that will bring him one step closer to the coveted Intercontinental Title.
All he has to do is-
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Damian’s voice rumbles quietly, and Dominik hides behind a partition as Rhea comes limping out, the older man hovering like an anxious mother hen.
“I’m fine , Priest.” She snaps, clearly tired of answering the same question more than once.
“But the brace-”
“Is just a precaution, like I said.”
Dominik’s eyes drift down and catch sight of a study metal brace encasing Rhea’s knee, and the ball of guilt nestled against his ribs burns hot and painful.
He glances over at the match unfolding in front of him, watches his chance for a solo title dwindle to a close. He can still make it, if he runs. He can still steal a pale, sour victory that he doesn’t deserve.
He swallows hard, looking back to Rhea’s clenched jaw and white-knuckled fists as Priest gently lifts her onto a crate.
“I can do it myself.” She murmurs softly, sounding almost defeated.
“Yeah, but I want to do it.” Her companion shoots back easily, “So let me look after you, yeah?”
Rhea visibly deflates, sagging against Damian’s shoulder as his broad back hides her from view.
“Thanks, Dam.”
“Anything for you, Rips.”
He hears the crowd roar, hears the ref land hard on the mat to count to three.
He steps back, further into the shadows, and walks away.