Page 134 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

“I don’t want to go there.”

Revan’s voice stays calm. Too calm. “You’d be surprised how much worse it could get if we just left you there with Koa.”

That stops me cold. I stare at the back of his head, trying to read something—anything—in the set of his shoulders, the angle of his jaw. Did I ever say his name? Did I tell him that his name was Koa?

No, but my mind races anyway.

Shit… I was screaming his name. I relax a little.

They don’t speak after that.

The road hums beneath us, a steady vibration that fills the silence. I try to focus on it—on the rhythm of the tires againstasphalt, on the way the headlights cut through the dark—but my heart won’t slow down.

Every time I blink, I see Koa hitting the pavement. Rolling. Lying still.

Is he okay? Is he even conscious?

Is Oxy taking him to the hospital? Did anyone see what was happening?

The questions loop in my head until I want to scream.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours. The air in the car thickens—smoke from Atticus’s cigarette, sweat from my panic, tension so thick I can barely breathe through it.

I shift in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn’t make me feel like I’m trapped in a cage. “So you’re holding me against my will? Is kidnapping now?”

Revan’s mouth twitches. “Call it what you want.”

I lean forward as far as the seatbelt will let me, gripping the back of his seat. “I’m serious. I have college. Classes. A roommate who’s going to notice I’m gone.”

Atticus looks over at me, eyes glinting under the dashboard light. “No one’s coming for you, love. You’re not that important.”

I glare at him, my insides hardening at his tone. “You don’t know shit about me.”

Revan’s voice comes softer this time. Almost gentle. “We’ll see.”

The rest of the drive feels endless.

Every road looks the same—empty, forgotten, swallowed by trees and darkness. I lose track of time. Could be thirty minutes. Could be three hours. I don’t know anymore.

When the car finally slows, I sit up, my pulse kicking into overdrive.

The gate to the mansion is black with intricate designs. It opens automatically, letting us drive through. I stare at themansion ahead, wondering what the hell is going to happen next.

I have to make a plan, so I start mapping the fence line, looking at any possible hideouts.

Atticus parks. Cuts the engine. The sudden silence is eerie.

“Out,” Revan says.

I don’t move. My legs feel like lead, my hands frozen on the seatbelt buckle.

Atticus glances back, voice dry. “You planning to sleep in the car?”

“Maybe.”

Revan opens my door before I can lock it. Cold air rushes in, sharp and biting. “Move, Lexi.”

Something in his tone—not quite a threat, not quite a command—makes me do it.