Page 136 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

It’s not a request.

I glance at Atticus. He shrugs, follows without a word.

We walk in silence through the mansion’s maze of corridors. Every footstep echoes.

A Reaper mask glows faintly above the conference room door. Someone’s lit the candles inside. I can see the flicker of light spilling under the frame.

Noah pushes it open.

Thatcher’s at the far end, knife in hand, tapping it against the wood in a slow rhythm. Caleb sits across from him, armscrossed, face unreadable. Eli’s leaning back in his chair, eyes cold and calculating.

Each one turns as we walk in, their faces half-shadowed.

Noah takes the head of the table. Rests his elbows on the scarred wood. Laces his fingers together.

“Start talking, Rev.”

I lean back in my chair, stretch out my legs. Try to look more relaxed than I feel. “She’s not a stray.”

They all stare at me waiting for me to continue.

“She’s leverage,” I say simply.

That gets their attention. Thatcher stops tapping. Caleb’s brows knit together. Eli’s glare sharpens.

Noah studies me like he’s trying to peel my skin open and read what’s underneath. “Leverage for what?”

I meet his gaze evenly. “Forwhomight be the better question.”

“Don’t play games.”

“I’m not.” I reach into my jacket, pull out my phone, and slide it across the table.

A photo lights the screen—Lexi, caught mid-turn, face half-lit by a passing streetlight. Brown hair falling across her eyes. Expression caught between fear and defiance.

Noah picks up the phone. Stares at the image for a long moment. His expression doesn’t change.

“And?” he says, setting the phone down.

“Her name’s Lexi Kane.”

The silence that follows is so complete I can hear my own heartbeat.

Eli’s the first to break. “You’re joking.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Thatcher exhales slowly, setting his knife down. “Gilbert Kane’s dead.”

Caleb leans forward. “He’s not dead. That’s a stupid fucking rumor.”

“Fake news,” he nods mockingly.

“Maybe,” I counter. “Maybe not. Either way, she’s his daughter.” I smirk. “And it gets worse,” I add.

“Worse how?” Caleb asks, leaning forward now.

“She’s connected to Koa.”