Page 135 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

I step out on shaking legs, nearly stumbling on the gravel. My body’s exhausted—adrenaline crash hitting me all at once. Fear. Exhaustion. The overwhelming sense that I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.

The air smells like smoke and pine. Cold. Unforgiving. Like nothing good happens here.

I look up at the mansion—at the dark windows, the crumbling stone, the ivy that looks more like it’s strangling the building than decorating it.

Atticus is already walking toward the front door, cigarette still burning between his fingers. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t wait to see if I’ll follow.

Revan gestures for me to go ahead. “After you.”

I take a step. Then another. My legs feel disconnected from my body, like I’m watching myself from outside.

Atticus pushes the front door open. I swear it looks like I’m walking into the unknown. It’s just pitch-black inside, and I start to panic.

“Go to your room.”

“My room?” I ask, staring at the darkness like it’s going to swallow me whole.

Before he can answer, I dart off to the right. Revan just laughs as Atticus catches me almost right away. My feet kick as he hauls me back to the front door.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

I shiver as we enter the dark.

29

Revan

Atticus hauls Lexi through the grand hall by the waist like she’s a bag of groceries.

Her feet kick at nothing but air. Her fists pound against his back—small, useless thuds that don’t even make him flinch.

He’s good at this. Ignoring protests. Especially when it comes to women who think they have power. Women who don’t realize they’ve already lost.

I follow a few paces behind, hands in my pockets, eyes flicking over the dark corners of the mansion. The shadows feel heavier tonight. Thicker.

Noah’s here somewhere. I can feel it—the weight of him watching, waiting, judging.

“Let me go, you fucking psycho!” Lexi’s voice echoes through the hall, raw and desperate.

Atticus laughs. Low. Cruel. The kind of laugh that says he’s heard it all before and none of it matters.

He carries her down the corridor to the same room she was in earlier—the one with the lock on the outside and the security camera in the corner. He pushes the door open with his shoulder, dumps her inside, and steps back. He locks it.

“You can’t keep me in here!” She’s already banging on the door, voice muffled through the wood.

Atticus leans close, mouth near the crack. “Watch us, love.”

Then he turns and heads back down the hall, smirking like the devil’s proudest son.

That’s when Noah steps out of the dark.

He’s always there—where the light doesn’t reach. Where shadows pool and swallow sound. Hands clasped behind his back, mask off tonight. His face is all hard lines and hollow patience. The kind of face that’s seen too much and stopped caring.

“Want to explain why you’ve brought back the stray?” His voice is calm like he’s already decided my answer won’t be good enough. “You had your fun with her. Trash her.”

Atticus stops halfway down the hall, turning slightly. Watching.

Noah’s eyes don’t leave mine. “You’re bringing her here without clearance. Conference room. Now.”