Page 32 of When We Collide

“Oh God,Lex…” I whimper and bury my face into Dean’s neck when we walk into the house, and I see Lex’s body on the floor, lifeless and in a pool of his own blood where I had no choice but to leave him. I can’t bear to see him like that when I’m the reason he’s hurt. Oscar rushes past Dean and I and kneels beside Lex to check and see if he’s breathing. “Please, tell me he’s still alive. He tried to stop them from taking DJ and they just shot him.”

Oscar’s eyes flutter closed, his brows furrowing in pain and sadness. Slowly, he shakes his head, wordlessly telling us he’s not made it. Dean gently lowers me down to my feet, but I am unable to move. My heart feels heavy as I walk over on shaky legs and kneel beside Lex. I carefully cradle his head in my arms and let out a deep, gut-wrenching sob. Lex was so much more than just a pet to me. He was my loyal companion, always by my sidethrough the worst days of my life. On days when I felt completely lost and alone, he would curl up next to me and lay his little head on my stomach, offering comfort without words. Tears stream down my face as I whisper apologies to him, wishing I could turn back time and stop him from attacking the men.

“I'm so sorry,” I sob, unable to control the flood of emotions that crash over me at the sight of Lex's lifeless form. It feels like my chest is caving in on itself. I’m crippled with fear and the grief I’m feeling right now is debilitating. My lungs are burning, and I want to scream to the heavens, curse my fate until they implode, but nothing comes out.

I’m suffocating.

In a matter of ten minutes, I’ve lost my baby boy and my beloved dog. When is it going to end? Why am I constantly being punished? What could I have possibly done to deserve such immense suffering?

Tears stream down my cheeks as I silently cry out to God, pleading for relief from this never-ending agony. It feels like some twisted test meant to break me beyond repair, as if I am nothing more than a plaything for fate to fuck with.

It's painfully clear that my destiny is one of constant loss and heartache, where everything and everyone I love will one by one inevitably be taken from me. How much can one person take? Every time I manage to pick myself up, life seems to kick me back down even harder.

God, I’m tired–bone fucking tired—of constantly being knocked down by life's endless blows. There’s only so many times a person can pick themselves up before they reach their breaking point. And as I lay here on the ground cradling my lifeless dogin my arms, battered and bruised yet again, I think I have finally hit mine.

“JJ—”

“Don’t touch me, Dean!” My heart shatters into smithereens when Jeyla recoils from my touch and looks at me with those devastated eyes that are drowning with tears. I simply can’t find the words to express how broken I feel inside when I see the devastation on her face, knowing I’m the cause of her pain yet again. “I don’t want to hear your goddamn empty promises. You’ve been back one day…one day, Dean, and look at the destruction you’ve caused my life again. Look at the state of me!”

What am I supposed to say in response to that? How can I possibly defend myself when I know she’s right deep down?

“JJ, I swear to you, I did everything in my power to keep you and DJ out of this mess. Do you think I wanted any of this? You think my insides aren’t torn apart knowing that son of a bitch has my son.”

Jeyla curls her fingers in her hair as she continues to pace the length of the living room. I can tell she’s in pain because she winces whenever she takes a step with her left foot. “You’re torn apart,” She shakes her head and turns to face me again. “You’ve been his dad for five minutes, Dean! I almost died carrying him. I spent weeks by his bedside in the neonatal unit after he was born, sleep-deprived, too scared to fall asleep in case I would wake up and find I had lost him, too. Do you know how it feels to live with that fear every second of every day? We both fought and barely made it through, and now my baby is all alone, terrified in the hands of some cold-blooded arms dealer who is… God, he’s probably torturing him for all we know, and no one is doing anything!” Jeyla sobs hysterically. “Why haven’t we heard anything, it’s been hours.”

Slowly, I shuffle over to Jeyla. “JJ, please baby, just calm down…”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” She weeps, planting her hands on my chest and forcefully shoves me away from her. “You promised you would protect us. You said we were safe. Where were you when they ripped our son out of my arms, huh? I can still hear him screaming, Dean. My baby is gone… he’s gone, and it’s all your fault.” My eyes close when she thumps her fists against my chest. “You took him from me,” she shoves me back again. “He was all I had left, and you took him from me.”

“JJ, I’m sorr?—”

Jeyla shakes her head in forlornly, her once bright eyes now filled with an endless stream of tears that fall freely down her face. She looks up at me, broken and defeated, her voice barely above a whisper. It’s as if all the life has been drained from her. “—I prayed for you to come back day and night... but now I wish you had stayed dead.”

My heart twists painfully at her words, a sharp sting deep inside my chest. Despite knowing she doesn't truly mean it, the weight of her anger still hits me like a freight train straight through the heart. I can't bear to see the despair in those beautiful green eyes that used to shine with such love and joy. The thought of something happening to DJ fills me with a deep sense of dread and guilt. I could never forgive myself if he were hurt or worse. And Jeyla... I can't even imagine how devastated she would be. She wouldn't survive that kind of loss. Just the weight of the possibility hangs heavy between us, the silence almost suffocating in its intensity.

Just then, my phone begins to ring, the sound breaking through the tense atmosphere like a sudden clap of thunder. Even though it's just my phone vibrating in my pocket, it feels like the whole room is shaking with its urgency.

No one has this number but the military, so I hurriedly pull it out of my pocket and see that it's an unknown number. I recognise the military prefix, confirming my assumption, so I quickly answer it.

“Reyes.”

“Captain Reyes?” The voice that comes from the other end of the line is deep and commanding, instantly conveying the authority of its owner. The rich tones resonate with years of experienceand leadership, making it clear that this person is someone of high importance.

“Yes?” I reply, keeping my tone respectful.

“Lucas Aaron Bennet,” the voice continues, “I'm the Marshal of the Air Force.”

My heart sinks as I realize the gravity of the situation. Lucas Bennet is a legend in our ranks. Everyone knows of him, and for him to personally call me means that shit has seriously hit the fan.

“Yes, I know, sir.” I answer, keeping my tone respectful even though every inch of me is shaking with anger. “It’s an honour to be speaking to you.”

“I wish I were calling you under better circumstances,” he begins, his voice heavy with regret. There's a brief pause, and I hear him exhale slowly. “Chief Scott has filled me in on everything that's been happening with the Lukin case. First, let me extend my deepest regrets to you and your family for the abduction of your son. I wanted to reach out personally and assure you that I will be overseeing this case from here on out.”

His tone is calm, but I can sense the underlying urgency. “I understand this is incredibly distressing for you and your family. We're mobilizing a response team right now, and I need you back at base so we can go through our plan of action. You've spent months with Lukin, embedded in his organization. That's why your insights are crucial. We need every detail you can provide so we can bury that son of a bitch once and for all.”

My stomach churns with a mix of fear and determination. “We've already begun tracking Lukin's movements. We don’thave a clear location yet, but we will soon. We have intelligence and the special forces unit are here and ready to go.”

My eyes dart over to Jeyla, who is watching me closely, worry etched on her face. “Sir, I appreciate that, I do, but I can’t just up and leave my wife, especially now…”

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