Page 92 of Endo
“Stuff?” His voice is low, deadly. He turns to me, his gaze locking onto mine like he’s daring me to downplay this. “This isn’t just stuff, Lena. This isyourhome. And they didn’t just trash it—they sent a fucking message.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with him. He’s right. Of course, he’s fucking right. Owen’s crew knew exactly what they were doing.
They came for me. For the bike they think they won, and since they didn’t find what they were looking for, they took Cruz’s memories.
Knowing full fucking well how deeply it would pain me.
Anger me.
I sink to my knees near the tank, my hand hovering above Blue’s tiny body. The gravel is damp and gritty under my fingers, and I feel the sting of tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Ididn’t think losing a fish would hurt this much, but Blue wasn’t just a fish. He was a little life I cared for, a connection to the ocean I’ve always loved. A connection to Cruz. But now he’s gone, and I can’t help but feel like I failed him.
Like I couldn’t protect something so small, so fragile.
Reign crouches beside me, his presence grounding but suffocating all at once. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t touch me, just watches me like he’s waiting for me to break.
Maybe I already have.
“Get your things,” he says finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.
“What?” I glance up at him, confusion cutting through the haze of grief and anger.
“You’re not staying here,” he says, standing up and towering over me. “Pack what you can, and we’re leaving.”
“Reign, I?—”
“For once, don’t fucking argue with me, Lena,” he snaps, his tone sharp enough to make me flinch. He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly. “This isn’t up for discussion. You’re coming with me.”
“I can’t just leave,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but it cracks under the weight of everything. “This is my home.”
He looks at me then, his expression softer but still laced with that fire. “Itwasyour home. Not anymore. Think about it, Lena. Owen and his crew, they know where you live. They know where they can find you. You think this is bad? If you stay and they actually find you here, it’s only gonna get worse.”
The truth of his words hits me like a slap, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept. My home—my safe space—is gone. There’s nothing left for me here except broken memories and a heartache of pain.
Reign doesn’t wait for me to argue again. He starts moving, grabbing a duffle bag from the corner and tossing it onto theremains of my couch. “Pack what’s left. Whatever’s important to you and hurry. We can’t linger here, we have no idea when they’ll be back.”
I stand there for a moment, frozen, before forcing myself to move. My hands shake as I pick through the wreckage, grabbing clothes that aren’t completely ruined, a few books that escaped the carnage, and a photo album that miraculously survived. Reign moves through the space like a hurricane, picking up what he can salvage and throwing it into his backpack with a ferocity that makes me uneasy.
When we’re done, the apartment feels emptier than it should. Like they didn’t just destroy my things—they stole the air, the light, the life from this place.
I glance at Blue’s tank, now still and lifeless, and my heart clenches. I can’t just leave him there, lying on the damp gravel of his destroyed home like he doesn’t matter. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reach into the tank, gently cupping his small, delicate body in my hands.
“Lena…” Reign’s voice is soft, hesitant, but I shake my head.
“I need to do this,” I murmur, my voice cracking.
I carry him to the bathroom, every step feeling heavier than the last. The harsh fluorescent light overhead makes everything feel too sharp, too real. My hands tremble as I lower him into the toilet, the water rippling around his tiny, vibrant fins that once moved so effortlessly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I should’ve taken better care of you. You deserved better.”
The words are small, but they carry all the weight of the grief I’m holding.
With one last shaky breath, I press the handle. The sound of the flush is too loud, too final, and it feels like another piece of me has been taken away.
I stand there for a moment, staring down at the empty bowl, before wiping my eyes and stepping back into the main room. Reign is waiting near the door, his expression unreadable but his presence steady.
“You ready?” he asks gently.
I nod, but my voice is barely a whisper. “Yeah.”
