Page 18 of Endo

“And what, we’re not?” Draygon snaps. “Wealllost him, Thorne. But Lena’s clearly got her mind set on doing this shit. If we try to stop her, it’s only going to push her further away.”

I stay quiet, the weight of their words pressing on my chest like a goddamn anvil. They’re right—she’s not ready. But what am I supposed to do? Kick down her door and force her to back out? All that would do is make shit worse.

“There’s nothing we can do. She’s been shutting everyone out since the funeral,” Talon says quietly, setting his wrench down. “You can’t reach someone who doesn’t want to be reached.”

“Maybe not,” Draygon says, his voice calm but firm, glancing at me with those dark, unflinching eyes.

My head snaps up, his words hitting me harder than I want to admit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I take him in. He’s standing by the workbench, arms crossed over his broad chest, the black ink of his tattoos stark against his tan skin. His muscular frame is impossible to ignore—tall and imposing, like he’s carved out of stone.

The traditional Korean tattoos that snake up his arms and spread across his neck are intricate, bold, and unapologetic. They match him perfectly—layered, deliberate, and impossible to miss. Then there are the small teardrops tattooed beneath his left eye. They should make him look harder, scarier even, but tothose of us who know him, they’re a reminder of how much he’s seen and how much he carries.

His hair is cut into a sharp fade on the sides, the longer strands on top slicked back with an effortless precision that only he seems to manage. He’s not just one of the oldest on the team; he’s a cornerstone. Him and Talon—they’re the ones who keep us in check, the ones who’ve seen the highs and lows of this life and still show up for the rest of us, no matter what.

Draygon shrugs, but his gaze stays steady. “She’s shut us all out, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying. Someone’s got to get through to her.”

The guilt claws at me, sharp and unrelenting. I’ve been thinking the same thing, but hearing it out loud stings. I shake my head, shoving my hands into my pockets. “She’s not answering calls, ignores texts, and hasn’t shown up in weeks. What makes you think anyone can get through to her?”

“It’s not about thinking you can,” Talon cuts in, his voice calm but firm. “It’s about showing up anyway. She’s grieving, Reign. Fuck we all are. She just… She’s dealing with it differently. After the funeral, she leaned on us for a while, and then something changed. She pulled away. But that doesn’t mean we give up.”

Wolfe nods, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes as he glances around the room. The tribal tattoos winding up his arms—markings of his native heritage—shift as he crosses them over his chest. There’s a softness to Wolfe, a gentleness that sets him apart from the others. He’s the kind of guy who notices when someone’s struggling and steps in without being asked.

“We’re family,” he says, his voice steady but filled with quiet conviction. “And family doesn’t give up, even when it’s hard. For her, for Cruz—for all of us.”

It’s no secret this family of ours means more to Wolfe than anything else. It’s in the way he carries himself, the way he speaks, every word a promise that he’s not going anywhere.

The garage goes quiet, their words sinking in, but they don’t ease the knot in my chest. It feels like they’re waiting for me to say something, to step up.

I stare down at the floor for a moment before the weight of it all pushes me to speak. “I’ll do it,” I say, the words surprising even me.

Draygon raises a brow, his expression unreadable. “You sure? I mean, you got a lot going on yourself.”

I look up, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Fucking right I do, but like Wolfe said, she’s family. She’s not just shutting you out—she’s shuttingallof us out. But Cruz wouldn’t have given up on her, and I’m not going to either.”

Talon nods, his expression softening just a bit. “Alright, but let’s not forget who we’re talking about here. Lena can throw a punch better than most guys, and that Latina temper of hers? Man, you’re walking straight into a storm. This isn’t gonna be some easy stroll in the park, bro.”

“I know,” I mutter, my voice rough but steady. “She’s grieving. Hell, we’re all fucking wrecked. But she’s gotta know she’s not in this shit alone. I don’t care if she slams the damn door in my face—I’m not walking away from her.”

The garage falls quiet again, the weight of my decision pressing down. But it doesn’t bring relief. The guilt doesn’t lift—it just twists deeper, sinking into places I didn’t even know it could reach.

I grab my keys off the bench, my fingers tightening around them like they’re some kind of lifeline. Maybe they are. Anything’s better than drowning in a bottle, trying to forget what I can’t change. At least this feels like moving forward, even if it’s walking into a storm.

“I’ll pop by her place before the race,” I say, mostly to myself. “She’s going to know we’re still here for her. Maybe—hell, maybe I can convince her not to go through with it tonight.”

As I head for the door, Draygon catches my eye. His expression shifts—almost relieved, like he’d been waiting for me to take this one.

“Best of luck, mate,” Thorne calls after me, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Though I’ve got to say, it’ll be bloody entertaining watching Lena tear you to bits. That bird’s got a tongue sharper than a knife. Cruz would’ve had a right laugh seeing you squirm.”

The corner of my mouth twitches, the first flicker of a smile I’ve felt in days. “Yeah, well, maybe Cruz can send me some pointers from wherever he is now,” I shoot back, pushing the garage door open.

Wolfe chuckles, leaning against the workbench. “Just don’t piss her off too much, man. I don’t want to be the one patching you up after she breaks your nose.”

“Funny,” I say, rolling my eyes as I step out into the late afternoon light. “You guys done taking bets on how this goes, or should I wait for the odds?”

Draygon’s voice follows me as I head for my car, “Odds are against you, but if anyone’s stubborn enough to pull this off, it’s you.”

As the door swings shut behind me, their laughter fades into the hum of the street outside. I grip the steering wheel as I climb into the car, my mind already spinning. They’re joking, but we all know this isn’t just about Lena. It’s about doing something—anything—other than spiraling further into the void Cruz left behind.

---