Endo (Full Send #2)

Chapter 33

33

REIGN

Tired - Alan Walker, Gavin James

Some people drown in water. Lena’s drowning in ghosts.

The thought hits me like a punch to the chest as I ride toward the beach. Every mile feels like it’s stretching out, like the road doesn’t want me to get there. The hum of the engine beneath me used to feel steady, grounding. Now it’s just static, not even loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

Lena.

She’s running. I fucking know it.

Running from everything she isn’t ready to face. Everything that’s eating her alive, and where does she run? To the one place that’s all ghosts. The ocean hideaway she shared with me just the other day.

The place where her and Cruz used to get away to.

Their place.

I can still see her face when she took off on Cruz’s bike—tight with fear, stubborn as hell. She rode like she was trying to outrun the weight of it all. Or maybe she thought if she held on to the bike, she could hold on to him, too. The thought twists in my gut. I get why she did it. She doesn’t want to lose the biggest piece of Cruz she has left.

And I don’t blame her.

The most important piece. Even I know that if she had of known the stakes, she never would’ve taken that race. She’d never have risked that goddamn bike.

When the hideaway comes into view, the sight of her bike parked off to the side makes my chest tighten. I knew she’d be here. It just makes sense—this place, the quiet, the ocean. It’s where she’d come to escape, to get her head straight. To feel closer to him just when she felt like she was about to lose the most important part of him that she has left. And in this moment, I’m glad she let me in that day, despite all the shit going on between us. She let me see that side of her, and opened up to me about her memories, and her grief, because if she hadn’t, I might not have found her.

I park next to her bike, cutting the engine, and swing my leg off. The sudden silence is heavy, broken only by the crash of waves in the distance. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting everything in a soft, silvery glow. Stars scatter like broken glass overhead, faint but constant.

The trail down to the shore is narrow, winding through dunes that rise and fall like sleeping giants. Sea oats and beach grass sway gently in the breeze, brushing against my jeans as I move. The air smells of salt, clean and sharp, mixed with the earthy scent of damp sand. Each step sinks into the soft ground, the grains shifting beneath my boots.

As I crest the final dune, the beach stretches out before me, wide and open, bathed in moonlight. The ocean is endless, dark and glittering, the waves rolling in a rhythm that feels almost alive. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. I get why they loved it here—it’s the kind of place that lets you breathe, even when it feels like the world is closing in around you.

And there she is.

Lena stands near the water, her arms wrapped around herself, looking out at the horizon. Her hair blows behind her, wild in the wind, catching the light like it’s made of gold. Her race suit is discarded on the sand beside her boots and helmet, and she’s standing there in just her bra and panties, vulnerable and untouchable all at once.

For a moment, I just watch her. The way the moonlight outlines her silhouette, the way the wind whips her hair around her face, the way her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she takes. She looks so small against the vastness of the ocean, but there’s something unshakable about her too.

I step forward, the sand crunching underfoot. She doesn’t turn, and I don’t call out to her. Not yet. The moment feels too fragile, like a single word could shatter it. I stop a few feet away, hesitating. She doesn’t know I’m here yet, and for a moment, I just stand there, letting the sound of the ocean fill the space between us. I don’t know if anything I say will be enough, but what I do know is that I can’t let her stay out here alone.

Not tonight.

Because no matter how much she wants to run and hide, I’ll always make it my mission to find her. The waves crash against the shore, loud and relentless, but all I can focus on is her.

Something inside me breaks.

She doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge me, but I know she hears me. The tension in her shoulders says enough. I take a few steps closer, keeping a few feet between us, my eyes fixed on the horizon.

“You shouldn’t have ran,” I say, my voice low but steady.

She huffs out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I didn’t know I had to ask for permission.”

“Lena…” I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m serious. You scared the shit out of me.”

“You found me, didn’t you?” she snaps, her blue eyes sharp and shimmering with unshed tears.

Her words hit harder than they should, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. The sound of the waves fills the silence, crashing in time with the pounding in my chest.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I finally say, my voice tight with frustration that’s been building for far too long. “Running every time shit gets too heavy. From everything you don’t want to face.”

Lena whirls around, her eyes blazing, her jaw tight. “And what about you, Reign? What are you doing? Pretending like you’ve got it all figured out? You’re just as lost as I am.”

I step closer, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. “Yeah, I’m lost, Lena. I’ve been lost since the day Cruz died. But at least I’m not running from it. You ran from me. From us. The second you started to feel something again, you bolted.”

Her expression falters for a moment, the anger flickering into something more vulnerable before she masks it again.

“You started to open up,” I press, my voice lowering but no less intense. “For the first time since losing Cruz, you let yourself feel something, and it scared the shit out of you, didn’t it? So you did what you always do—you ran.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. Instead, her gaze drops for a split second before she lifts her chin, the fire back in her eyes.

“And you think you’re any better?” she snaps, her voice cracking. “You act like you’ve got it all under control, but you’re still holding on to every damn thing that broke you. You think you’re high and mighty, but you’re not. Not really.”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest, but I don’t back down. “Maybe not, but at least I’m trying, Lena. At least I’m not running away from what could actually fucking save me.”

The air between us is heavy, filled with all the things we’ve been avoiding for months. She stares at me, her breath coming fast, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“And what is that, Reign?” she asks, her voice quieter now, shaky.

“You,” I say, my voice raw and sure. “You’re what I need, Lena. But you’re too afraid to let me be what you need too.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes widening as the words hit her. For a moment, she’s completely still, like the weight of what I’ve said has knocked the wind out of her. Then her lips part, but no sound comes out. She blinks rapidly, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as if she’s trying to process, trying to find her footing.

“Reign...” she starts, her voice barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain.

I watch her, waiting, the silence between us stretching thin and taut. Her fingers flex at her sides like she wants to reach for me but can’t bring herself to close the gap.

“I can’t be him,” I continue, my voice raw. “I can’t be the guy you loved. All I have is this—this wreck of a man standing in front of you. If you’re gonna be with me, you need to take me as I am. This mess, this… broken thing.”

I drag a hand over my face, trying to steady myself. Her gaze pierces me, unflinching, but I push through the weight pressing down on me. “I need you, but you need to know this is all I’ve got left. It’s never going to be enough. Never going to be what you deserve, but it’s all I have.”

Her lips part, trembling slightly, and for a moment, I think she might shatter right in front of me. But then she steps closer, her voice soft but thick with emotion. “Reign, I don’t want you to be Cruz. I don’t need you to be him.”

Her hand presses against my chest, her touch light but grounding, like it’s the only thing holding me together. “It’s you I’ve been running to. You, Reign. I can’t stay away from you, and it scares the hell out of me. But it’s not because of who I lost—it’s because of who I’m afraid of losing again.”

Her words slam into me, stripping away every layer of doubt and self-loathing I’ve been carrying. She takes a shaky breath, her blue eyes locked on mine, her gaze unwavering. “I’m just as broken as you are. Maybe worse. But maybe together… we can figure out how to piece ourselves back together. Your pain, my pain—we carry it together.”

I swallow hard, the weight of her words sinking deep into me, settling into a place that doesn’t feel so hollow anymore.

A breeze sweeps across the beach, tugging her hair across her face. She shivers, and without a second thought, I yank my shirt over my head and hold it out to her.

“Here,” I say, my voice gruff. “You’re freezing. Take it.”

“I’m fine,” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest like she’s bracing herself against the wind—and me.

“Lena,” I say, a teasing edge creeping into my voice, “just take the damn shirt.”

She glares at me, her eyes narrowing, but the corner of her mouth betrays her with the faintest twitch. With a huff, she snatches the shirt from my hand. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“And you’re stubborn as hell, celona mou ,” I fire back, smirking as she pulls the shirt over her head.

The sleeves hang well past her hands, the hem brushing her thighs, and she looks completely ridiculous. But something about seeing her in my clothes, all wrapped up in me, sends a rush of heat through my chest.

“Fuck, I like seeing you like this,” I murmur, my voice softening.

Her cheeks flush, a mix of irritation and something softer flickering across her face. She crosses her arms over the oversized fabric like it’s some kind of shield, but I catch the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

And in that moment, the tension shifts, something unspoken passing between us. Whatever this is, whatever we are—it’s real. It’s undeniable.

The playful banter cracks something open between us, and when she looks up at me, her eyes searching mine, I don’t hold back. My hand moves to her jaw, my fingers brushing against her skin. She doesn’t pull away.

“ Celona ,” I murmur, my voice rough.

She steps closer, and the tension snaps. I lean in, and when our lips meet, the world stops spinning.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, but it deepens quickly, turning desperate and raw as we lower down to sit in the sand. All the frustration, all the unspoken words, pour into the connection between us. She climbs onto my lap, her knees pressing into the sand on either side of me, her hands tangling in my hair.

“Reign,” she whispers against my lips, her voice breaking.

I groan, gripping her hips as she grinds against me. “You’re mine, Lena,” I rasp, my tone fierce. “Every fucking broken, beautiful piece of you. Mine.”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t stop. Her movements grow bolder, her body fitting perfectly against mine. The cool sand beneath me and the crash of the waves disappear as the heat between us builds.

I shift us slightly, lowering her back against the sand, my lips trailing down her jaw to her neck. Her hands grip my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as her body arches into mine.

And then, suddenly, a soft rustling sound breaks through the moment.

We both freeze, the sound pulling our attention away from each other. I sit up, shifting Lena slightly as I glance toward the noise. Tiny shapes emerge from the white sand, their small bodies illuminated by the moonlight.

“Is that… turtles?” I ask quietly, watching as the hatchlings wriggle free and begin their journey toward the ocean.

Lena sits up beside me, her breath catching as she takes in the scene. The soft glow of the moon reflects in her eyes, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. The hatchlings move with surprising determination, their tiny legs pushing them toward the waves.

“Baby leatherbacks,” she whispers, her voice filled with something I can’t quite place—wonder, maybe, or a fragile kind of hope.

We sit there in silence for a while, watching them. I know the memory of doing this with Cruz must be hitting her hard, but she doesn’t say it. She doesn’t have to. It’s written all over her face—the ache, the loss, and something else: acceptance.

I reach out, brushing my fingers against hers where they rest on her lap. “They’re strong,” I murmur, my gaze never leaving the turtles. “They don’t stop. No matter how hard the path is, they keep going.”

Her fingers curl around mine, and the weight of the moment settles over us like a blanket.

We sit there, watching until the last of the hatchlings disappears into the waves. Brushing the sand from our hands and legs and without a word, we walk down the beach, gently guiding any stragglers toward the ocean.

When it’s done, Lena turns to me, her arms wrapped around herself. Her hair blows in the breeze, her expression distant as she stares out at the water.

“He’d be proud of you,” I say quietly knowing full well where her thoughts are. “For remembering him, for letting him stay a part of you without letting him hold you back.”

Her gaze meets mine, and there’s something in it I don’t have words for—something deep, raw, and real. She steps closer, her arms sliding around my waist as she presses her forehead against my chest.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight as the waves crash softly against the shore. For the first time, there’s no tension between us, no unspoken words hanging in the air. Just peace.

And for the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re both starting to heal.