There was something about the way the air shifted when @reck6ning was near—like the temperature dropped a few degrees and time slowed down just enough for her to feel it deep in her chest. Rhea wasn’t afraid of many things. Hell, she thrived off chaos and confrontation. But Uncle Howdy wasn’t just chaos… he was something darker. Something older. And as she stood in the shadowy backstage hallway, boots heavy on the concrete, she stared at him across the dim-lit space, arms crossed and jaw tense. “You keep showing up like this,” she said finally, voice low and steady, “but you haven’t said what the hell it is you want from me.”
He didn’t answer right away. Of course he didn’t. That was part of his game—making people uncomfortable, pulling at their thoughts like tangled threads until they unraveled on their own. And Rhea hated it. Hated not knowing what this was about. She didn’t play games she hadn’t signed up for, and Uncle Howdy didn’t come with a rulebook. Her mind was racing—was it Judgment Day he wanted to dismantle? Was it Dom? Or was it her? “You don’t scare me,” she added, eyes narrowed, taking a cautious step forward. “But I’m not stupid either. You don’t circle someone unless you think they’ve got something you need… or something you want to destroy.”
Silence again, except for the faint hum of electricity buzzing in the vents overhead. She could feel him watching her through that twisted mask, studying her like she was some kind of puzzle he was already halfway through solving. It made her skin crawl and her instincts buzz. “If you’re after me,” she said, her tone laced with warning, “you better be damn sure you can handle what comes next. Because I don’t break easy, and I don’t run.” Her fists clenched at her sides, a pulse of adrenaline kicking in like muscle memory. “So whatever this is… you’d better make it worth my time.”
