Finn Balor stands nose-to-nose with Dominik Mysterio, voice low but venomous. The argument has spiraled—El Grande Americano’s interference, Roxanne’s unpredictability, Liv’s absence. Finn’s grip tightens around a steel chair, his knuckles white.

Dominik: “You think he’s the problem? Maybe you’re the one slipping, Finn. Maybe Liv saw it first.”

Finn’s jaw clenches. JD McDonagh watches from the corner, arms crossed, unreadable. Roxanne Perez sits on the bench, pretending not to listen but clearly absorbing every word.

Then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps against the locker room door. Not loud. Not urgent. But unmistakable.

Finn freezes.

The rhythm is old. Familiar. A code from a lifetime ago. The knock they used before every tag match. Before every war. Before everything fell apart.

It was you…once Finn’s rock, his tag partner through everything. Till you got hurt…told to retire…this couldn’t be happening right now, Finn thought. Right…?

Dominik keeps talking, but Finn doesn’t hear him anymore.

His eyes lock on the door. His breath catches. The room fades—JD, Roxanne, Dom—they’re background noise now. All that exists is the echo of that knock.

JD McDonagh (quietly): “What the hell was that?”

Roxanne (nervous): “Is someone playing games?”

Finn steps forward, slowly. His hand hovers near the handle, but he doesn’t open it. Not yet. He’s not ready.

Because if it’s really you-

Then everything he built is about to be tested.