Chapter 46 Revan
Revan
Lexi storms out of the room clutching papers like they’re the only solid thing in a world that’s gone liquid and unpredictable. I can see her from my position on the balcony above—the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her hands shake despite her attempt at control.
Koa says something to her, his voice too low for me to catch from up here, but whatever it is makes her stop for half a second before she keeps moving.
Atticus nudges me with his elbow, sharp and insistent. It’s time.
We spent the last fifteen minutes silently eliminating Gilbert’s men—every guard stationed around the perimeter, every lookout positioned at the exits.
The Reapers decided to join after all, Noah sending a team when I explained what was actually at stake.
Bodies are cooling in the shadows, neutralized with the kind of efficiency that comes from years of training.
Now it’s just us and Gilbert and whatever the fuck happens next.
We’re crouched on the balcony above the office where Lexi just was, hidden in the darkness of the rafters. Through the slats in the floor, I can see Gilbert moving inside the room, can see Axel standing against the wall looking like he wants to disappear.
Gilbert’s voice drifts up, cold and decisive. “We kill her.”
My blood turns to ice.
Axel snaps, “No.”
“She knows too much. She’s a liability now.” Gilbert’s tone is steady like she’s just another pawn to dispose of. “Clean break. No loose ends.”
Something flutters to the ground—papers.
Atticus nods at me. That’s our cue.
He moves first, fast and fluid, swinging off the balcony railing like it’s second nature. His boots hit the door with enough force to splinter the wood, the lock giving way as it crashes open. The sound echoes through the warehouse.
I’m right behind him, gun already drawn and aimed. My hands are steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system, despite the rage making everything sharp and clear.
Atticus is larger than Gilbert, using that size advantage immediately. He grabs the older man by the neck with one hand and physically throws him across the room. Gilbert hits the far wall hard enough to crack plaster, stumbling but staying on his feet.
Axel tries to run, scrambling for the door, but I swing my gun toward him.
“Don’t even think about it.”
He freezes.
I turn the gun back on Gilbert, who’s straightening his jacket like he wasn’t just thrown across the room.
“Put your hands up!”
Gilbert raises his hands slowly, but there’s no fear in his eyes. Just calculation.
“You want to end my bloodline,” I continue, stepping closer. My finger hovers over the trigger, muscle memory making it easy. “But we’re not going down that easy.”
I’m about to press it—about to finish this—when Gilbert laughs. Actually laughs, the sound rich and mocking.
He stands up straighter, dusting himself off. “You don’t know what you’re up against, boy.”
Then he moves.
Faster than a man his age should be able to move, faster than I expect. He bulldozes into me, his shoulder connecting with my chest, driving me backward. The impact knocks the wind out of my lungs and the gun flies from my hands, skittering across the floor.
Before I can recover, his fist connects with my gut. Pain explodes through my abdomen, doubling me over.
“Let’s settle this the old-fashioned way, shall we?” Gilbert’s voice is almost cheerful as he pulls back for another punch.
But Atticus is there, ripping him off me with both hands, spinning him around. His fists connect with Gilbert’s face—once, twice, three times. Blood sprays from Gilbert’s nose, his lip splitting.
Atticus holds him back, arms locked around his chest, giving me time to recover.
I get to my feet, gasping, and start landing my own punches. Each impact feels good, righteous, like I’m beating out the years of manipulation and control and lies. Gilbert’s head snaps back with each hit, but he’s still laughing—actually laughing through broken teeth.
Axel attempts to bolt for the door, seeing his opportunity in the chaos.
Gilbert’s foot shoots out, tripping him. Axel goes down hard, face-first into the concrete.
“Traitor,” Gilbert mutters, and there’s genuine venom in the word.
I punch him again, putting my full weight behind it. My knuckles connect with his jaw, and I feel something crack—his bone or mine. Blood gushes from his mouth, running down his chin and soaking into his expensive suit.
Adrenaline takes over his system and he wrenches himself free from Atticus’s hold with strength that shouldn’t be possible. I think he’s going to come at me again, finish what we started.
Instead, he lunges for the gun on the floor.
We both dive for it at the same time, hands scrabbling. My fingers brush the metal grip as his close around the barrel. We’re locked together, both pulling, both refusing to let go.
Then a delicate hand reaches down and picks it up while we’re still fighting for it.
I glance up.
Lexi.
She’s standing over us, the gun held professionally in both hands, pointing at the ceiling. Her face is completely calm, expressionless in a way that’s more terrifying than rage would be.
“Reaching for this, Dad?” Her voice is sweet, almost sing-song.
Gilbert stands proudly, straightening despite the blood covering his face. “Give it to me.”
She checks the magazine with practiced ease—when did she learn to handle a gun?—then turns the safety off. The click echoes in the sudden silence. “All loaded and ready. All I need to do is press this little trigger.”
Then she starts to pace, moving in a slow circle around all of us. The gun swings lazily as she walks, pointing at each of us in turn.
“Eenie meanie miny mo.” She aims at Gilbert. “Which head am I going to blow?” Swings to Axel. Then to me. Then to Atticus.
She laughs, and the sound is cynical, psychotic, and—fuck me—hot as hell. This is what power looks like on her. This is what happens when you push someone too far and they stop breaking and start burning.
She stops in front of Gilbert, the gun steady now.
“It’s funny... you know... I gave you the benefit of the doubt.
I gave you every excuse in the book, similar to what I do with this one—” She swings the gun toward Axel, who’s still on the floor.
“But you...” Back to Gilbert. “I want you to know that I watched you shovel pills down Mom’s throat.
Watched you force her into drug addiction because you didn’t want to be the only monster in the house.
You judge Vincent, but my God, look at you.
” She points the gun directly at his face.
Axel’s eyes widen. “What?”
“You think you’ve done something wonderful here,” Lexi continues, her voice dropping to something cold and deadly. “But I know you. I remember you. And that’s why you… have to die.”
“Wait.” Axel scrambles to his feet, hands up in surrender. “Lexi, please. Did Revan tell you that Dad paid him a quarter million dollars to bring you to Koa and Koa to Vincent? This was the plan for revenge. For justice.”
She points the gun at me, head tilting. Those brown eyes are not dead, in fact they’re alive like the soil before potting. They bore into mine, and I see the question there. The accusation.
Fuck.
Axel continues, desperate now. “Or that Koa set us up from the very beginning because he was following Vincent’s orders? That this was always the plan? But instead of Dad standing, Vincent thought it’d be him.”
She swings the gun to Axel. “You’re a fucking coward.” Each word is sharp, precise, cutting.
Gilbert lunges toward her in that moment, thinking she’s distracted by Axel’s rambling, thinking he can disarm her before she reacts.
He’s wrong.
In a flick of a second—so fast I almost miss it—the gun points at Gilbert’s chest and she pulls the trigger.
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space. My ears ring.
Blood splatters across all of us—warm and wet and final. The bullet tears through Gilbert’s chest, the impact lifting him off his feet and pushing him backward. Red blooms across his suit, the white button down, spreading fast.
He falls to the ground.
Axel starts panicking, his breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. “Oh my God. Oh my God. You—”
“What were you saying, brother?” Lexi asks, the gun now pointed casually at Axel’s head. Her voice is calm. Too calm.
Axel drops to his knees, but he doesn’t cry. Just stares at Gilbert’s body, at the blood pooling beneath him. “You killed him.”
“He killed Mom!” Lexi’s voice finally cracks, emotion bleeding through.
Axel turns to her slowly, and there’s something broken in his expression. Something that looks like grief mixed with horror. “And now you’re no better than him.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and damning.
Lexi’s hand wavers for the first time, the gun dropping slightly.
I step forward carefully, hands visible. “Lexi—”
“Don’t.” She swings the gun toward me, and I freeze. “Don’t you fucking dare try to talk me down.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I meet her eyes. “You did what you had to do.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Or did I just become exactly what he wanted me to be?”
No one answers that.
Because we all know the truth.
She just crossed a line you can’t uncross.
And there’s no going back from here.