Unfortunately

Lyra’s fingers locked tight into the neckline of Bayley’s top. With a sharp, triumphant yank she wrenched the blue-and-silver garment up and over Bayley’s head in one rough motion.

The Role Model gear tore free, leaving Bayley bare from the waist up except for the black Victoria’s Secret bra underneath—thin branded straps crossing her shoulders, the familiar logo running along the elastic band, the simple black cups framing her chest against the gritty backlot night.

Bayley’s arms instinctively crossed over herself for a split second, face flushing hot with sudden embarrassment. She had expected a long, brutal fight before anything like this happened. Losing the top so quickly—pinned in the gravel, exposed under the buzzing sodium lights—hit harder than any of Lyra’s earlier strikes. Her cheeks burned as she scrambled to sit up, one hand still trying to cover herself while the other braced against the ground.

Lyra sat back on her heels, crowing with that unhinged little laugh. She dangled the captured top from one finger like a trophy, eyes glittering with pure cocky delight.

“Aww, look at you,” she teased, voice sing-song and sharp. “The big, bad Role Model… already down to her pretty little black bra. Victoria’s Secret? How cute. Didn’t take much at all, did it? I barely even had to try.”

She tossed the top aside into a puddle of oil and stood, rolling her shoulders like the match was already hers. “Maybe I should just finish the job right now. Pants next… then everyone gets the full show.”

Bayley’s embarrassment flashed into something harder. She forced her arms down, refusing to keep covering up, and pushed herself to her feet. Gravel stuck to her skin and the black bra straps. Her mind raced—she couldn’t keep trading wild, chaotic shots with this new version of Lyra. The backlot was Lyra’s playground right now. She needed distance. She needed a plan. Something heavy. Something that could slow the madness down long enough for her to turn the stipulation around.

Bayley’s eyes flicked past Lyra toward a stack of wooden pallets and a nearby toolbox, already calculating her next move while the cool night air kissed her newly exposed skin.