Her shirt shreds

Bayley’s fingers locked into the fabric of Lyra’s top and wrenched hard. The material didn’t just pull free—it shredded with a sharp rip, tearing open down the front and peeling away in ragged pieces. What was left behind was a dark blue Calvin Klein bra, sleek and sporty against Lyra’s skin, the familiar logo neat across the band.

Lyra’s eyes went wide with genuine surprise. The manic spark flickered for a second as she stared at the sudden fury written across Bayley’s face—no more measured Role Model composure, just raw, focused rage.

Bayley didn’t give her time to recover.

She cracked a stiff right hand across Lyra’s jaw, then another, driving her stumbling backward across the gravel. A sharp kick to the midsection folded Lyra over; a second one sent her sprawling into a pile of discarded cables. Bayley’s eyes scanned the chaos of the backlot and locked onto a kendo stick leaning against a nearby crate. She snatched it up, spun it once, and advanced.

The first swing caught Lyra across the shoulders. The second whipped across her back as she tried to crawl away. Bayley kept coming, striking with short, vicious shots—thighs, ribs, arms—herding Lyra across the lot with every crack of the stick. Lyra finally scrambled to her feet and bolted toward the line of production cars, desperate for distance.

Bayley dropped the kendo stick and exploded after her.

She caught Lyra from behind just as the other woman reached the nearest vehicle, driving her hard into the side of the car. The impact rocked the whole frame. Lyra’s body bounced off the metal with a heavy thud and crumpled against the door.

Bayley planted a boot on the car’s bumper and leaned over her, chest rising and falling, the black Victoria’s Secret bra standing out starkly under the sodium lights. A cocky, breathless smirk cut across her face as she looked down at the dazed Lyra.

“What’s wrong?” Bayley panted, voice edged with heat and triumph. “Not so funny when the Role Model stops playing nice, is it? You liked groping these so much earlier…”

She gave a small, deliberate bounce of her shoulders, making the full, perky shape of her breasts shift inside the black bra. “That’s why I wear Victoria’s Secret. Stretchy. Comfortable. Holds up even when some crazy woman is trying to rip my clothes off in a backlot. Looks good too… don’t you think?”

She reached down, grabbed a fistful of Lyra’s hair, and forced her to look up at the exposed black bra and the body wearing it.

“Your turn’s coming. And when I get the rest of that Calvin Klein off you… everyone gets to see how the new ‘crazy’ Lyra looks when she’s the one left in nothing but her underwear.”