Page 133 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

One second Koa’s clinging to the hood—hands splayed against the windshield, face twisted with determination—and the next, he’s a blur in the rear window. A shadow tumbling backward into darkness.

“Stop the car!” I scream, lunging forward. “Stop the fucking car!”

Atticus doesn’t even blink. His hands stay steady on the wheel. The sedan speeds up.

“You hit him!” My voice cracks, breaking into something raw and desperate. “You—he’s still back there! He’s on the fucking road!”

Nothing. Just the low growl of the engine and Revan’s steady breathing in the passenger seat. Like they didn’t just beat and throw a man off a moving car. Like this is normal.

“I told you not to intervene! You’re fucking psychopaths!” I yank at the door handle. Pull it once, twice, three times. It’s locked.

I kick the door, heel slamming against metal. “Let me out! Let me the fuck out!”

Revan’s voice comes smooth and lazy through the darkness. “Sit back, Lexi.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughs like he finds me cute. “Already there, sweetheart.”

I slam my hand against the window so hard pain shoots up my wrist. “He could be dying and you’re just—you’re just driving!”

Atticus finally glances over his shoulder. His eyes are cold, sharp, completely unbothered. “He’ll live.”

“Yeah?” I snap, leaning forward. “You sure about that? Because from where I was sitting, he looked pretty fucked when he hit the ground!”

“Not our problem.” Revan smirks, turning back around. “He looked like he could take a hit.”

My stomach twists. I press my forehead to the cold glass, watching the highway lights blur past—white, then yellow, then white again, stretching endlessly into nothing.

I can still see Koa’s body flying backward. The sickening thud I felt more than heard. The way he rolled across the asphalt like a rag doll.

“I need to go back to campus,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I have class in the morning. I can’t just—”

Revan cuts me off. “You’re not going back.”

I lift my head sharply, glaring at him through the rearview mirror. “Excuse me?”

He meets my eyes there—steady, unreadable, like he’s made up his mind and nothing I say will change it. “You’re ours now. “

“No, I’m not!” My voice rises, cracking at the edges.

“That’s the thing,” Revan says, voice soft and dangerous. “We decided that you are, so you are.”

“What the fuck? I have to go back!”

I have to call Jasper as soon as I can. I want to slap myself for trusting him at all.

Neither Revan or Atticus says another word. Neither of them even looks at me.

The silence is worse than the noise. It presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, until I can’t stand it anymore.

I look out the window again—no idea where we are. Just endless black road stretching in every direction. No signs. No exits. No way to know how far we’ve gone or how much farther we’re going.

“Where are we going?” I ask finally, hating how small my voice sounds.

Atticus pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lights it with a silver lighter that flashes in the dark. The flame illuminates his face for just a second—sharp jaw, hollow cheeks, eyes that look almost black in the shadows.

“Back to the mansion,” he says, exhaling smoke that curls toward the ceiling.