Page 95 of Endo
REIGN
Hypnotized - TJ Minor
Who knewa bunch of fabric and some spotlights could bring this much energy?I think, smirking to myself as I glance around the buzzing venue. Not exactly my scene—hell, it’s none of our scene—but tonight’s not about me. It’s about Bexley. And Lena.
The Speed Demons stick out like a sore thumb in this sea of suits, cocktail dresses, and influencers waving their phones around like they’re auditioning for a reality show. But we’re here anyway, parked along the back wall like we own the place. Revel and Thorne are at the bar, beers in hand, ripping on the crowd with that dry, sarcastic bullshit they think is funny—and okay, it kind of is. Talon and Sayshen are near the stage, loudly debating whether the runway looks like it could handle a quarter-mile drag race.
I’m pretty sure this crowd has no idea what to do with us. Leather jackets, boots, jeans that are definitely more grease-stained than trendy. Shit, it’s like oil meeting water in here.
But I’m not here to blend in.
I’m here for Lena.
I haven’t seen her yet, but I know she’s back there somewhere, probably bossing everyone around and making sure this thing doesn’t crash and burn. That’s just Lena. Stubborn, sharp as hell, and in control of anything that dares to cross her path. She wouldn’t steal the spotlight from Bex—she’s got more class than that—but if something’s off, I’d bet good money she’s already fixing it. Probably with a side of sarcasm for whoever’s slowing her down.
The lights dim further, and the low hum of conversation fades as a voice comes over the speakers, announcing the start of the show. The crowd leans forward, cameras at the ready, anticipation thick in the air. The music swells, something deep and rhythmic, and then the models start striding down the runway, one by one, showcasing Bexley’s designs.
I’ll admit, I don’t know a damn thing about fashion, but even I can tell Bexley’s work is something else. The outfits are sharp, edgy, and bold as hell. Pure Bex. The kind of stuff that makes people sit up and pay attention. The crowd’s eating it up, murmuring and snapping pictures like their lives depend on it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, cutting through the music and murmurs of the crowd. I pull it out and see a text from my mom.
Mom: Ματ?κια μου, how are things? Are you at the show? Can you send me photos of the girls in their outfits when it’s over? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I wasn’t feeling well this morning and didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick. Let me know how it goes. Love you.
I smirk at the screen, shaking my head. My mom’s never been the type to let anything stop her, but as much as I hate the thought of her feeling off, I’m glad she decided to take care ofherself for once. She’s all sharp edges wrapped in soft warmth, and even when she’s trying to rest, she’s still checking in on everyone else.
Typical.
She’d have loved this show and seeing Bexley’s work. I know how excited she was to see Lena and Cece light up the runway too. I can already hear her voice, teasing me about missing a photo op and telling me how proud she is of the team, like she’s part of it too.
I send back a quick reply.
Reign: Love you too, μ?να. I’ll grab photos for you after the show. Rest up, okay? The place is packed and everything looks amazing—you would’ve been proud.
Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I glance at the stage again, a small smile tugging at my lips. No matter how chaotic things get, she’s always the grounding force.
Always there, even when she’s not.
“That one’s solid,” Talon mutters, nodding toward a model in a fitted leather jacket with ripped jeans and boots. “Looks like something Lena would wear.”
I glance at him, my jaw tightening a little. “Yeah,” I say, my voice low, my eyes flicking back to the stage.
The next model steps out, and the whole damn room seems to freeze.
It’s Lena.
My chest tightens, and everything else disappears, like the world just narrowed to her and her alone. She’s in a sleek black bikini, the kind that hugs her body like it was made just for her. The top dips low enough to make my throat go dry, and the cut of the bottoms shows off the perfect curve of her ass. The way thespotlights catch her skin, making her look like she’s glowing? It’s almost too much. She walks like she owns the damn stage, every step confident, commanding, and unapologetically her.
And fuck me, she’smine. That’smyfucking girl up there, looking like she could ruin every person in the room without even trying.
“Damn,” Revel mutters, low enough to almost be respectful, but there’s a teasing edge in his tone that makes me glance his way. He raises a brow, smirking. “Didn’t know Lena had that in her.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, though my tone’s too distracted to sound threatening. My eyes flash back to her, taking in every second like I’m afraid I’ll miss something.
At the end of the runway, her gaze sweeps over the crowd, and for a split second, our eyes lock. Something flickers in her expression—recognition, relief, maybe even a hint of something softer. Before I can blink, she turns on her heel and struts back down the runway, leaving me standing there like an idiot with my heart racing like I’m the one under the spotlight.
I don’t even have time to process my thoughts before the next model steps out.
“Holy shit, it’s Cece,” Talon says, his voice way too loud as he points toward the stage.
