Chapter 23
Lena
The second I walked out of that bathroom, I stopped breathing.
My heart is still in there, trapped somewhere between Declan’s silence and Wesley’s rage. My chest is tight, my lungs barely functioning, and I can’t feel anything except the blood pounding in my ears and the slow burn of humiliation crawling up my throat.
“This is nothing, Wesley. It’s absolutely nothing.”
That’s what I said.
That’s what he let me say.
That’s what he chose to let hang in the air like a goddamn death sentence.
I gave him a moment. One chance to fight for me. To speak up. To step forward and say, She’s not nothing. She’s mine.
But he didn’t say a damn thing.
Not one fucking word.
He stood there like I was a mistake. A dirty secret he couldn’t scrub off fast enough.
It’s been hours since I left Wesley’s house, and I’m still driving. My face is sticky with tears, my vision blurry, my hands clenched so tightly on the wheel that my knuckles ache. I keep replaying it. Declan frozen, Wesley’s betrayal, the way the silence screamed louder than anything else.
I keep seeing his face.
I keep hearing nothing.
I'm so goddamn angry. At him. At myself. At how foolish I was to think this could work.
I’m done.
Just thinking it cracks something deep inside me. A sob rips through my chest, and I finally pull over, pressing my forehead to the steering wheel, letting myself break for real this time.
This was supposed to be real.
It felt real.
But right now, the betrayal overshadows everything else.
I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like. I’ve known the love of a brother, the loyalty of a best friend. But this? The way I loved Declan? That was different. It was whole. It was home.
And now I feel empty.
I should go to my apartment, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It feels like a reminder of everything I thought I had. And everything I just lost. Still, I don’t have anywhere else to go.
Jeanne is going to ask questions I don’t have the strength to answer, but I need a place to fall apart. I need someone who gives a damn, even if I don’t want to talk.
When I walk through the door, Jeanne bolts up from the couch like I’ve risen from the dead.
“Lee! Oh my God, I almost forgot what you looked like,” she laughs, rushing to hug me. But the second her arms are around me, the sobs come crashing out of me like a dam breaking.
I cling to her, burying my face in her shoulder, shaking from the force of everything I’ve held in.
“Lena, holy shit, what happened?” she asks, panic in her voice.
I try to speak, but my throat is clogged with emotion. She gets it. She pulls me to the couch, no pressure, no prying. She just lets me cry. And I do. I cry like I haven’t in years. I cry like I’m mourning someone I loved more than I should’ve.
Because I am.
When the sobs finally slow and I sit up, my hands are smeared with makeup and tears. Jeanne hands me a tissue and studies my face with quiet concern.
“Wesley found out?” she asks gently.
I nod. “Yeah. But that’s not what wrecked me.” My voice is raw, barely more than a whisper. “Declan, he just stood there. Wesley was losing his shit, and Declan didn’t say anything. Nothing to defend me. Nothing to stop it. He just watched me walk away.”
“Oh, Lee…” Her voice is soft, but laced with fury on my behalf. “Did you just leave after that?”
I nod and launch into everything from the morning in Declan’s bed to the moment I slammed the door behind me, leaving my heart somewhere in between. I don’t sugarcoat anything. Jeanne listens, holding my hand through the mess of it.
When I’m done, she leans back and exhales. “So, now what?”
I reach for her wine glass and down the last of it. “Now I figure out how to move on.”
She frowns, sadness creasing her features. “That’s it? You’re just ending it?”
Anger bubbles up again, hot and bitter. I cross my arms, the weight of everything pressing in on me.
“I didn’t end it. He did. He’s been hiding us since the beginning.
At first, I didn’t care. I was happy in our bubble.
But the second real life crept in? The moment it counted? He stood there and let me drown.”
My throat tightens again. “I’ve spent my whole life pretending I didn’t love him, pretending it didn’t hurt, pretending I was okay with being invisible. I’m done pretending. I can’t do it anymore.”
Jeanne gets up and returns with the wine bottle and a second glass. She pours, then clinks her glass to mine.
“You are the bravest person I know,” she says. “You loved with your whole heart. And yeah, it shattered you. But you fucking tried. I envy that. You’ll survive this, Lee. I’ll make sure of it.”
My chest aches with the threat of more tears, but I’ve got nothing left. I just nod. “Thanks, Jeanne.”
I pull my phone out and stare at it for a moment before powering it off and tossing it on the table.
She quirks a brow. “Not even going to check it?”
I take a long sip of wine. “I’d rather wonder if he’s trying to reach me than know for sure he’s not.”
Jeanne stares at me for a beat, then lifts her glass in salute. “Damn. You are a fucking badass.”
We spend the rest of the night curled up under blankets, watching stupid comedies that can’t quite erase the ache in my chest. We finish two bottles of wine and laugh at all the wrong parts. But for the first time all day, I don’t feel entirely alone.
Even if I still feel broken.
The sun is barely peeking through the night sky, and I still haven’t slept.
I’ve laid here all night, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second with Declan like some sick loop I can’t escape.
How scared we were to cross that line. How the moment his lips touched mine, my soul settled, like it had finally found home.
How sex turned into something raw and sacred when emotions bled into every kiss, every breath.
The laughs. The comfort. The feeling that I belonged for the first time in my life.
I’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, convincing myself I should call him. That we can fix this.
But I won’t.
I refuse to be someone’s shame.
No matter what happened between us, that part never changed. We were a secret. And last night, Declan confirmed it wasn’t a beautiful one, it was a shameful one. One, he didn’t have the balls to defend.
“Ugh.” I shove the covers off and grab my sweats from the drawer, yanking them on like I can peel away the hurt with every tug. My mind won’t shut up, and if I stay here another minute, I’ll break.
I grab my keys and glance at my phone on the coffee table, still off. Still silent.
I walk out the door.
I don’t even realize I’ve been driving for over an hour until the red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror, slicing through the dawn like a blade.
“Shit.”
Panic creeps in fast. I know I wasn’t speeding. This car practically begs for mercy at sixty. And I haven’t done a damn thing wrong.
Still, my heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. I reach across the seat, fumbling for my insurance and registration. The moment I sit up, the officer is already at my window, pounding on it like he’s trying to shatter the glass.
I roll it down fast and force a shaky smile. “Did I do something wrong?”
“License, insurance, and registration.” His voice is sharp. Cold. He doesn’t even lift his sunglasses.
I pass him my documents with trembling fingers.
“Can I ask why I was pulled over?”
He doesn’t answer. Just studies my info, face carved from stone.
Then, without a word, he grabs the door handle and yanks it open.
“What the hell?” I flinch back, eyes wide. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Lena Lennon, I have a warrant for your arrest.”
My blood turns to ice.
“What? No, no, that’s not possible. I’ve never even been arrested before! There has to be a mistake!”
He grabs me, spinning me around, and slams me against my own car. The metal is freezing against my cheek, but not as cold as the cuffs he snaps around my wrists.
“Sir, please! You have the wrong person!” I shout, tears blurring my vision.
He leans in, pressing his lips too close to my ear, his voice a low, threatening whisper. “The only mistake was the company you kept, Lena.”
A chill slithers down my spine. This isn’t right. This isn’t normal. Something’s wrong.
I twist to get a better look at him, my body trembling. I don’t recognize him, but something in the way he moves, too casual, too cruel, makes my skin crawl.
“This isn’t a real arrest, is it?” I whisper, heart pounding like a war drum. “Who are you?”
He shoves me off the car. “Shut up.”
I stumble, trying to stay on my feet, but he’s already dragging me toward his cruiser. I know if I get in that car, it’s over.
So I fight.
I scream. I kick. I thrash with everything I have, trying to dig my heels into the pavement.
“Let me go!” I scream. “Help! Someone help me!”
No one hears me.
No one’s around.
He slams me onto the hood of his car again, his full weight crushing me. My breath whooshes out, and I gag on a sob.
“You’re a feisty girl,” he chuckles darkly, “but it’s not going to help you. Make it easy on yourself.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” I spit, shaking with fury and fear.
“Oh, Lena,” he sneers, “you don’t know who I am?”
I try to turn to see his face, but he shoves me again, hard, against the hood.
“No,” I gasp, barely able to speak. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
He hauls me up and wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground like I’m weightless.
“Help!” I scream again, kicking with everything I have. “Somebody help me!”
Nothing but silence.
He throws open the cruiser’s back door. I fight harder. I slam my head back, try to twist away, try to dig my knees into the seat to stop him from stuffing me inside.
But it’s useless.
My head hits the doorframe as he throws me in like a sack of garbage. The door slams, and I’m trapped.
Tears pour down my face. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
He gets in the driver’s seat, turns slightly, and looks me in the eye.
“I’m Jason’s father.”
I freeze. The blood drains from my face.
My stomach twists. My heart stops.
This isn’t an arrest. This is revenge.
“Sir, please, I didn’t do anything to your son,” I sob.
He turns back to the road, his jaw tight.
“No, sweetheart. This is about the people you run with. The people who buried my son. I know exactly who you’re connected to. And you better hope they come looking for you.”
My stomach drops.
Shattered Souls.
He knows.
He knows everything.
Oh my God.
I’m bait.
“Fuck you!” I scream, kicking the seat, but my voice cracks and breaks with terror.
He just laughs.
A slow, hollow, chilling sound that says he’s already decided how this ends.
I’ve panicked before. I’ve been scared. I’ve cried.
But this? This is something else.
This is the moment you realize your life might be over, and no one even knows you’re missing.
Declan.
Wesley.
Someone help me.