Lexus.
My fists crash into the punching bag again and again, the dull thuds echoing in the empty room like some cruel heartbeat. It's all I hear. All I deserve to hear. My knuckles are torn up, wrists bleeding—but I don't stop. I can't. The pain's the only thing that makes sense anymore.
I killed Luca.
I avenged my father.
I survived.
So why the hell do I feel like the one who died?
I grab my phone. Again.
Still nothing. No texts. No missed calls. Just a blank screen and the weight of silence.
She blocked me.
I know it now—what she must've felt. Sitting by her phone, hoping to hear from me. Waiting. Hurting. I used to tear the world apart for anyone who made her cry.
Now I'm the reason she's in pieces.