Page 106 of Endo
And for once, it feels like I’m finally finding some solid ground again. I finished rehab last week. Jen—never one to sugarcoat anything—said I didn’t need it anymore, and for the first time, I actually agreed. It’s not like everything’s back to normal. Shit, I don’t think it ever will be. Not like it was anyway. The pain in my leg is still there, a constant reminder of what happened that day. Of what we lost. Some days it’s manageable, others... not so much. But it’s part of me now, and I’ve learned to deal with it, to live with it.
I can’t ever be thankful for what happened, not when it cost Cruz his life. But I can take the lessons it left behind—the onesabout holding on tighter to the people you care about, about not letting the weight of guilt and grief crush you. It’s not about forgetting what happened—it’s about making peace with it.
And standing here, seeing Lena laugh again, feeling the team start to feel whole in a new way... it doesn’t make the loss easier, but it does remind me of why we keep going.
WhyIkeep going.
For him.
For them.
Forme.
“She’s too good for you,” Revel says, pulling me from my thoughts. His tone is softer now, no smirk in sight. “Better than you deserve, honestly.”
I glare at him, but he just shrugs. “Seriously,” he continues, his voice laced with warning. “You screw this up, I’ll fuck you up. Sling or no sling.”
“I’m not going to screw it up,” I say, my voice firm.
“You love her, don’t you?” he says, not a question but a statement. His eyes meet mine, steady and knowing, and for once, there’s no teasing in them.
The memory of the beach flashes in my mind—Lena, gun in hand, steady as she ended it. She saved all of us that day. She savedme.
The aftermath was a blur. When the gunfire stopped and Owen lay dead in the sand, everything was quiet except for Revel’s groans of pain and the sound of the ocean. I’d never been so grateful for Talon’s steady hand with a phone—he called 911, giving them just enough detail to get help fast.
By the time the cops showed up, Owen’s men were long gone, running with their tails between their legs like the cowards they were.
Explaining it all to the police wasn’t as complicated as I’d expected. Lena’s trashed apartment was proof enough of whatOwen and his crew had done, and the fact that he showed up armed didn’t leave much room for argument. It was self-defense, clear as day. The cops didn’t ask many questions after that. No charges were filed, and the case was dropped before it even started.
Still, I can see it in her sometimes—the weight of what she did. She doesn’t say much about it, but I know it’s there, lingering in the back of her mind. She carries it, even if she won’t let it show.
“Yeah,” I finally say, my voice quiet but steady. “I do love her.”
Revel nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. Just don’t make me regret taking that bullet for your dumb ass.”
“I won’t,” I say, and I mean it. “You’re never letting that bullet thing go, are you?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Not a fucking chance,” Revel replies, his grin back in full force. “It’s too much fun watching you try to make it up to me.”
I laugh, shaking my head, but there’s a warmth in my chest that I can’t shake. We’re not just surviving anymore. We’re living. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re going to be okay.
The roarof engines surrounds me, a symphony of power and chaos, vibrating through my chest like a second heartbeat. The acrid scent of burning rubber mingles with the sharp tang of gasoline in the humid air, a cocktail that’s always felt more like home than anywhere else. It’s race day. My first race back.
The weight of the bike beneath me is like an anchor, solid and steady, grounding me in the storm of noise and anticipation. I adjust my gloves, the leather creaking softly, and roll myshoulders to shake off the tension coiled in my muscles. Ahead, the track stretches out like a promise. Or maybe it’s a dare.
Either way, I’m ready.
In the pits, my eyes find her like a magnet. Lena. She’s standing with the girls, her arms crossed as she talks, her head tilting back in laughter. She’s wearing my team jacket, the oversized leather hanging off her shoulders. My name bold across her back, hits me like a punch to the chest.
Fuck, she looks so damn good it’s almost enough to knock me on my ass.
She catches me staring, her gaze locking on mine. She doesn’t wave, doesn’t smile, but there’s something there—a quiet, unshakable belief that wraps around me like armor.
It’s a look that says,You’ve got this.And hell, with her watching me, I actually believe it.
The announcer’s voice crackles over the speakers, calling the racers to their marks. I flip my visor down, the world narrowing through the tinted shield. The track sharpens into focus, a straight path cutting through the noise and uncertainty of the past.
The crash, the pain, the guilt, the chaos—it all fades.
