NINETEEN

                                    

                                          
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Eight years.
Eight. Fucking. Years.
Pushing a decade since Roman Reigns had last seen Seth Rollins. And now, after all that time, he was headed straight for a meeting that felt uncomfortably like stepping into a cage with a venomous animal. A serpent, slick and coiled, lying in wait.
The SUV hummed steadily beneath his hands, the engine a low growl that matched the tension curling in his chest. Beside him, Nate sat with a distant, unreadable expression, her fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles on the fabric of her jeans. Her usual veneer of sharp, calculated confidence had been replaced by something raw and unpolished—like a blade that had been sharpened too many times and now threatened to snap. The incident with Boris and Alexei ganging up on Katya... and the vicious switch in her father's disposition during their last encounter. It all shook her—more than she let on. But even now, she carried herself with a quiet intensity that made it clear she wasn't fragile. Whatever storm churned behind her eyes, it hadn't broken her.
Behind them, the low murmur of voices from the backseat added a strange counterpoint to the thick silence up front. Jimmy and Jey were mid-banter as usual, the rhythm of their exchange as natural as breathing, while Sami—wedged awkwardly between them—offered occasional nervous laughs. Solo, however, was silent, his presence brooding and heavy, as if he could fill the entire vehicle with his sheer displeasure.
Roman's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching his enforcer's watchful eyes. The unspoken tension between them was a steady undercurrent, but Roman chose not to address it. It wasn't worth it.
Not yet.
"I'm just sayin', man," Jimmy piped up, leaning forward with a grin. "Two weeks before Christmas is a hell of a time to be dragging us out like this. You know what I could've been doin' instead?"
"Ain't no better time for business than now," Jey replied, nudging his twin. "Half these fools too busy kissin' under mistletoe to notice what's really goin' on."
Sami chuckled anxiously, his eyes darting over at Nate as if seeking her approval. "I mean... it's intense, right? Meeting Seth Rollins. The guy is—"
"A snake," Roman cut in sharply, his voice like a crack of thunder in the confined space. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed on the wheel. "Seth's a snake. Always has been."
Nate's lips twitched, a flicker of amusement that didn't quite form into a smile. She didn't need to ask for details; Roman had already told her the whole story in his rare moment of unguarded honesty the night of Alexei's engagement celebration. How Seth's betrayal had nearly cost him everything—not just regarding business, but his pride.
She could understand that. Hell, she could even empathise. Traitors weren't just dangerous—they were personal.
"I-I know it's not my place to ask," Sami ventured hesitantly, "But... you sure about this, Boss?"
Roman didn't bother looking at him. His eyes stayed locked on the road, the stretch of asphalt ahead illuminated by the harsh glare of the SUV's headlights. "We do what we have to," he said flatly. "If Seth has something we could use, we're gonna take it. End of story."
Sami shrank back slightly, his nervous energy radiating like static. Beside Roman, Nate stirred, her voice low enough that only he could hear.
"Before we get there," she murmured, "A warning."
Roman arched a brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Oh? You think I need one?"
"I think your pride has a nasty habit of making decisions for you," she replied evenly, cool but not unkind.