Chapter 29 Revan
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.”
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, arms crossed, 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. “For who might 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.”
That gets them. In an instant, they know exactly who I’m talking about. No last name needed. There’s only one Koa we’ve ever heard of. It’s a Hawaiian name or some shit, so it’s not common around here.
Eli and Caleb exchange quick glances—sharp, assessing, calculating what this means.
Noah leans back in his chair. “You sure?”
“We made sure ourselves tonight. Made sure it wasn’t a setup.” I spread my arms. “And what do you know? There was Koa kissing our girl as soon as he saw her.”
Thatcher starts laughing. Low and dark. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I laugh too. Can’t help it. “Fate’s got a twisted sense of humor, doesn’t it?”
“How did you get wrapped up with this girl?” Eli asks.
I smirk. “Jasper.”
Noah doesn’t blink. Just keeps staring at me like he’s deciding whether to slit my throat or shake my hand.
Finally, he says, “And what exactly do you plan to do with her?”
I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “Leverage is bittersweet, innit?” I joke, glancing at quiet Atticus in the corner. “Let’s shut this shit down.”
Noah’s still staring. Weighing. Calculating.
Then he nods once. “You want to take point on this?”
“Already have.”
“Then make her talk.” His voice drops lower. “I want names, routes, contacts—anything to get the scum off the streets. You know what to do.”
“Consider it done.”
“Meeting over. Get to sleep.”
Chairs scrape back. The others file out, muttering to each other in low voices I can’t quite catch.
Atticus lingers just long enough to catch my eye, a question hiding behind that smirk. “You sure about this one, mate?”
“Never been more sure of anything.”
He pushes off the wall and disappears down the hall.
Noah waits until it’s just the two of us. Then he says quietly, “You’ve already got too much on your plate, Rev. The Harper job’s still open, and I want you on it.”
“That’s going to interfere.”
He nods. “Exactly. But given your name, it gets you out of this house for a while. Keeps your head clear.”
I glance toward the stairs—the direction of Lexi’s room. “You want me gone, say it.”
He stands, looming over me now. Taller. Broader. The kind of presence that makes you remember why people follow him.
“I want results,” he says. “If you’re successful, then...” His eyes finish the sentence.
“Understood.”
I start for the door, but he stops me with one more sentence.
“If she’s really Gilbert’s kid,” he says, voice low and cold, “don’t get attached. Kane blood doesn’t end well for anyone who touches it.”
I don’t answer. Just walk out.
Back in the hall, the mansion’s quiet again.
I can hear faint thuds from the closed door down the hall. Lexi hasn’t given up yet.
I light a cigarette, lean against the wall, and exhale slowly. The smoke curls toward the ceiling, disappearing into shadow.
Then I hear her start to scream.
Not panic. Not fear. Rage.
Atticus must be having his fun with her.
I close my eyes, take another drag.
She’s more than leverage. She’s a goddamn ticking bomb.
And I’m holding the fuse.