Chapter 39 A World Without Her
The car ride was silent.
Derek didn't ask questions, didn't try to make conversation. Just drove while Elena sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, feeling like her entire world had collapsed.
His family killed hers.
The thought kept circling, relentless and devastating.
Pierce had known, had known for weeks, had looked her in the eyes, touched her, made love to her, all while carrying that secret.
Elena pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to hold back the sob building in her chest.
"Where to?" Derek's voice was quiet.
"I don't know." Elena's voice cracked. "Just... anywhere. A hotel. Anywhere that's not there."
Derek pulled up to a decent hotel fifteen minutes later. Elena got out without a word, walking into the lobby on autopilot.
She made it inside the room before she fell apart.
Elena sank to the floor, back against the door, and finally let herself break.
The sobs came hard and violent, ripping through her chest. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold the pieces together, but they kept fracturing, kept falling apart.
May 14th.
The worst night of her life.
Her parents bleeding out on the pavement while she screamed for help that came too late. The sound of gunfire. The sirens. The way her father's hand had gone cold in hers.
And Pierce's family had caused it.
His father's gang war. His world of violence and blood and endless revenge.
Elena had spent three years hating the criminals who'd killed her parents. Hating the senseless violence that had destroyed her family.
And she'd fallen in love with one of them.
No. Worse than that.
She'd fallen in love with the son of the man whose war had killed them.
Elena pulled her knees to her chest, rocking slightly, trying to breathe through the pain. But it was everywhere, in her lungs, her bones, her blood. She couldn't escape it.
He'd lied to her.
Every time he'd held her after a nightmare. Every time he'd touched her scars with gentle hands. Every time he'd whispered her name like she was something precious.
All lies. Or maybe not lies. Maybe he really did care about her.
But he'd still chosen to keep the truth from her. Had chosen to protect himself over being honest with her. Had chosen to let her fall for him knowing it would destroy her when she found out.
And that was somehow worse.
Elena pressed her forehead to her knees, tears soaking through her jeans.
She'd trusted him. Had let him into her home, her bed, her heart. Had defended him to herself, ignored every red flag, convinced herself that he was different from the criminals she'd always hated.
But he wasn't different.
He was exactly what she'd always feared.
The son of violence. The heir to bloodshed. A man whose very existence was tied to the night that had destroyed her.
Elena's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out with shaking hands.
It was Pierce.
Please. Just let me explain.
She stared at the message, feeling nothing but hollow emptiness.
There was nothing to explain. He'd known the truth and kept it from her. That was all that mattered.
Elena turned off her phone and threw it across the room.
Then she crawled to the bed, pulled the covers over herself, and cried until she had nothing left.
While Elena was breaking down in a hotel room across town, Pierce stood alone in the wreckage.
The apartment felt empty without her.
Pierce stood in the middle of Elena's living room, surrounded by her things, her books, her furniture, her cats staring at him like they knew what he'd done.
The silence was suffocating.
He'd destroyed everything. The one good thing in his life, the one person who'd made him feel something other than anger and violence and endless responsibility.
Was now Gone.
Because he'd been too much of a coward to tell her the truth.
Pierce sank onto the couch, his head in his hands. He could still see her face, the moment she'd realized what he was telling her. The horror, the betrayal, the way love had died in her eyes and been replaced with something he'd never wanted to see. Hatred.
His phone rang. It was marcus.
Pierce ignored it.
It rang again. And again.
On the fourth call, Pierce answered. "What?"
"Where are you? We've got movement on Rodrigo's crew..."
"I don't care."
Silence on his end before he spoke. "Boss, what's going on?"
"Nothing." His voice was rough. "Handle it yourself."
"Pierce..."
He hung up and turned off his phone.
Pierce looked around the apartment, at the kitchen where they'd cooked together, the couch where she'd fallen asleep against his shoulder, the hallway leading to her bedroom where they'd...
He couldn't finish the thought.
Darrel jumped onto the couch beside him, purring, rubbing against his arm like nothing was wrong.
"She's not coming back," Pierce told the cat quietly. "I made sure of that."
Darrel just purred louder.
Pierce reached out to pet him, the simple action making his chest ache. This was Elena's cat. Elena's apartment. Elena's life.
And he'd just blown it apart.
He should leave. Should go back to his own place, let her have her space, her home. Should respect the one thing she'd asked of him, to never see her again.
But he couldn't move.
Couldn't make himself walk out that door knowing he'd never walk back in. That he'd never see her curled up on this couch again. Never hear her laugh. Never watch her feed the cats or make terrible coffee or look at him like he was worth something.
Pierce pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
He'd known this would happen. Had known from the moment he realized the truth about May 14th that telling her would destroy them.
But he'd hoped, stupidly, desperately hoped, that maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he feared. That maybe she'd understand. That maybe love would be enough.
It wasn't.
Nothing was enough to overcome the fact that his family had killed hers.
Pierce pulled out his phone and stared at the message he'd sent her. The one she hadn't answered.
He typed another.
I'm sorry. For everything. You deserved better than this. Better than me.
He almost hit send.
Then deleted it.
What was the point? Sorry wouldn't bring her back. Wouldn't undo the lie. Wouldn't change the fact that his father's war had destroyed her family.
Pierce set down his phone and sat in the darkness of Elena's apartment, Darrel purring beside him, carrying the weight of what he'd done.
He'd finally told her the truth.
And she'd walked away.
Just like he'd always known she would.
The only difference was now he had to figure out how to live in a world without her in it.
And Pierce had no idea how to do that.
Because for the first time in three years, he'd felt something other than emptiness.
And now it was gone.
And he had no one to blame but himself.