Page 226 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

But Lexi’s right, this actually works. And she loves it.

"I have class tomorrow," Lexi mumbles, half-asleep.

"Skip it," I say against her neck.

"Can't. Already missed too much."

"Then we'll wake you up." Revan's voice is drowsy, satisfied. "Early enough to shower and get to class."

"All of you are staying?" she asks.

"Where else would we go?" Atticus answers.

She doesn't respond, just burrows deeper into the blankets, into us.

I lie there in the dark, listening to breathing gradually even out, and think about how far we've come. From that first moment in the alleyway with her junkie brother to when I delivered her to Vincent, to the warehouse where everything came to a head, to this—sharing a bed too small for all of us, choosing to stay anyway.

We're not fixed. Not healed. Still carrying the scars of what we've done, what was done to us.

But we're here.

And that's something.

"Koa?" Lexi's voice is quiet, almost asleep.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for not killing Atticus."

"Night's not over yet."

"I'll kill you first," Atticus mutters.

"Both of you shut up," Revan says. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Lexi laughs, the sound soft and genuine, and I feel it vibrate through her back into my chest.

This. This is what I was fighting for without knowing it.

Not ownership or control or dominance.

Just this. Just her. Just us.

All four of us, broken pieces that somehow fit together into something that makes sense.

I close my eyes and let sleep take me.

ATTICUS

I wake up first, which is unusual. Dawn light is just starting to filter through the blinds, painting everything in shades of gray and gold.

Lexi's alarm hasn't gone off yet, but I know it will soon. She mentioned an 8 AM class yesterday—something about American Literature and Hemingway.

I carefully extract myself from the tangle of limbs, trying not to wake anyone. Fail immediately when Revan's eyes open slightly, alert despite barely sleeping.

Lexi stirs between Revan and Koa, her face peaceful in sleep. She looks younger like this, softer. Nothing like the girl who put a bullet in her father's chest and walked away without looking back.

But I know she's still in there, just beneath the surface. The monster she became to survive.