Chapter 53 Lexi
Lexi
The safe house is different from the cabin—smaller, older, with walls that have seen things that would make normal people run.
It’s tucked away in the industrial district, sandwiched between abandoned warehouses that provide cover and isolation.
The kind of place the Reapers use when they need to disappear.
When we need to disappear.
The drive here was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional hiss of pain when one of them shifted wrong.
Revan drove. Atticus rode shotgun, holding a towel to the cut on his cheekbone.
Koa sat beside me in the back, his hand on my thigh like he was afraid I’d evaporate if he let go.
Now we’re inside and the silence has weight. Tension. All four of us standing in the main room while the single overhead bulb flickers, casting shadows that make everyone look dangerous.
They’re still bleeding. Still riding that post-fight high that makes their pupils dilated and their movements restless. I can smell the sweat and ice melt clinging to them, mixed with something darker—adrenaline and testosterone and barely controlled violence.
Koa breaks the silence first. “You shouldn’t have come.”
I turn to face him, and I see the contradiction in his eyes—glad I’m here, terrified I’m here, unable to decide which feeling wins. “Where else would I go?”
“Somewhere safe.” Revan leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Away from us.”
“Then maybe I don’t want safe.”
Atticus laughs, the sound rough. “Yeah, we’ve noticed.”
I look at each of them—these three men who’ve killed for me, bled for me, fought each other over me. Who can’t figure out how to exist in the same space without turning it into a battlefield.
“You don’t want to share?” I ask, and I hear the mockery in my own voice. “Going to fight with your fists to prove who’s the bigger man? Who gets to stake their claim first?”
Koa’s jaw tightens. “Lexi—”
“No.” I cut him off, taking a step forward. “We’re done with that. Done with the posturing and the jealousy and the constant fucking competition over who owns me.” I look at each of them in turn. “Because here’s the truth: none of you own me. And all of you do.”
The words settle into the room like stones dropping into still water.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Revan says quietly.
I move closer to him, close enough to see his pupils dilate. “You think ownership is about control. About possession. But it’s not.” I reach up, fingers ghosting along his bloody jaw. “It’s about surrender.”
His breath catches.
I turn to Atticus next, crossing the space between us. He watches me approach with those calculating green eyes, trying to read my play. I don’t give him time to figure it out—just grab the front of his torn jersey and pull him down to my level.
“You think you know what you want,” I murmur against his mouth. “Think you’ve got it all figured out.”
“And I don’t?” His British accent is thicker now, rough with want.
“You want me to choose. To pick one of you and make it simple.” I press my lips to his, just barely. “But I’m not simple. And I’m not choosing.”
I kiss him before he can respond. His mouth tastes like blood and mint gum he must have been chewing during the drive.
The kiss is fire—heat and hunger. His hands come up to my waist, gripping hard enough to bruise, and I let him.
Let him pour all that frustrated desire into this one moment before I pull away.
He’s breathing hard when I step back. “Bloody hell, love.”
I move to Koa next. He’s still standing rigid, every muscle coiled tight like he’s ready to fight or flee. His eyes track my movement across the room, predatory and possessive.
“You’re the hardest one,” I tell him, stopping just out of reach.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you actually believe you can keep me.” I take that final step, closing the distance. “You think if you’re strong enough, dominant enough, protective enough, I’ll stay.”
His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Won’t you?”
“I’ll stay,” I whisper. “But not because you kept me. Because I chose to.”
I kiss him and it’s different from Atticus—dominant but reverent, like he’s claiming something sacred. His other hand slides into my hair, controlling the angle, and I let him have that control because giving it freely is its own kind of power.
When I pull back, his forehead rests against mine. “Lexi—”
“I know.” I do know. Know what he’s trying to say, what he can’t say, what none of them can say because putting it into words makes it real and real things can be destroyed.
I turn finally to Revan. He hasn’t moved from his position against the wall, but his eyes have tracked every movement, every kiss, every word. Always watching. Always calculating.
“And you,” I say, walking to him slowly. “You think you’re above it. Above the jealousy and the need and the chaos.”
“I don’t think that.”
“No?” I stop in front of him, close enough that our bodies almost touch. “Then what do you think?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and I watch emotions flicker across his face—things he usually keeps hidden behind that cool, controlled exterior.
“I think,” he says finally, voice low, “that you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted that I can’t strategize my way into having.”
The honesty in those words does something to my chest. Something that feels dangerously close to breaking.
“So stop strategizing,” I whisper. “Stop trying to control it. Just...” I reach up, fingers tangling in his hair. “Surrender.”
I kiss him and it’s slow burn—not the immediate inferno of Atticus or the claiming dominance of Koa, but something that builds gradually, intensely, until I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.
His hands are gentle on my waist, almost careful, and that carefulness undoes me more than aggression ever could.
When I pull back, all three of them are staring at me with identical expressions—hunger mixed with something deeper, something that looks like understanding.
“One bed,” I say, gesturing to the bedroom visible through the doorway. “Four bodies. Full surrender.” I look at each of them. “Can you handle that?”
Koa’s the first to move.
Atticus grins despite the blood on his face. “Fuck yes.”
Revan just takes my hand, squeezing once. “Lead the way.”
The bedroom is sparse—just a queen bed with dark sheets and a window covered by blackout curtains. There’s dried blood on the floor from some previous incident, a reminder of what this place is, what we are.
But right now, none of that matters.
Koa gets there first, already pulling his torn jersey over his head and tossing it aside. His torso is a canvas of bruises and cuts, evidence of all the wars he’s fought. He’s beautiful and destroyed all at once.
I cross to him, hands exploring the damage. He hisses when I touch a particularly bad bruise on his ribs but doesn’t pull away. Just watches me with those dark eyes while I catalog every injury.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“Everything hurts.” His hand comes up to cup my face. “Don’t care.”
Atticus and Revan are undressing too, and I’m hyperaware of all of them. Of the energy in this small space. Of what we’re about to do and what it means.
No more pretending this is simple. No more pretending it’s just physical.
This is surrender for all of us.
Koa kisses me first because I’m close, already touching him. His mouth is demanding but there’s a gentleness underneath that makes my chest ache. Like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this kiss—the fear and the need and the desperate hope that I won’t disappear.
Hands—not Koa’s—slide up my sides, pulling at the hoodie. I break the kiss long enough to let Atticus pull it over my head. His mouth finds my neck immediately, teeth scraping over my pulse point.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters against my skin.
Revan’s behind me now, his chest pressing against my back, his hands finding the button of my jeans. “You sure about this?” he murmurs in my ear.
I nod.
They undress me between them—Atticus pulling down my jeans while Revan unhooks my bra, Koa just watching. When I’m finally naked, standing in the center of this room with three fully aroused men surrounding me, I feel powerful in a way that has nothing to do with guns or violence.
This is a different kind of power. The kind that comes from being wanted, being desired, being chosen.
“Bed,” I say, and they move.
Koa lies back first, reaching for me. I crawl over him, straddling his hips, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. His hands grip my waist, and I see the question in his eyes.
“Yes,” I answer before he can ask.
He lifts me slightly, positioning himself, and then I’m sinking down onto him. We both groan at the sensation—no barrier between us, just heat and connection and perfect friction.
“Fuck,” Koa breathes, head falling back.
I start to move but Atticus is there, his hand in my hair, guiding my mouth to his cock. I take him in, hollowing my cheeks, and his groan vibrates through my bones.
Revan’s hands are on me too—one between my legs finding my clit, the other cupping my breast. Three sets of hands, three different touches, and I’m completely surrounded by them.
Owned by them.
Owning them.
The rhythm builds gradually—me riding Koa while sucking Atticus, Revan’s fingers working magic between my legs. It’s overwhelming in the best way, sensation overload, and I feel my orgasm building faster than I expect.
“That’s it,” Revan murmurs in my ear. “Come for us, Lexi.”
I come hard, clenching around Koa, and the sensation triggers his own release. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me down as he spills inside me.
Atticus pulls out of my mouth carefully, and I’m barely recovered when Revan is turning me, positioning me on my hands and knees. Koa slides out reluctantly, moving to lie in front of me.
“My turn,” Revan says, and then he’s pushing inside from behind.
The angle is different, deeper, and I cry out. Koa’s hand comes to my face, thumb brushing my lips, and I open for him. Take him in my mouth while Revan fucks me from behind, and it’s perfect and overwhelming and exactly what I need.
They take turns—switching positions, trading places, learning my body together. Atticus’s fire when he finally gets his turn, brutal and passionate. Koa’s possessive dominance when he comes back for more. Revan’s movements that has me screaming into the sheets.
Hours blur together. The bed becomes a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. Somewhere outside, the world keeps turning—news programs probably showing highlights from the game, commentators analyzing the fight, the rivalry narrative growing bigger.
But in here, we’re making our own rules.
No rivalry. No competition.
Just four people who’ve been through hell and found something worth holding onto on the other side.
Later—much later—I’m lying in the center of the bed with all three of them surrounding me. Koa’s on my right, arm draped over my waist. Atticus is on my left, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip. Revan’s at my back, his chest pressed against me, his breath warm on my neck.
“This is insane,” Koa says into the darkness.
“Completely,” Revan agrees.
“Works though,” Atticus adds.
I smile against the pillow. “It works because we’re all equally insane.”
Silence settles, comfortable now instead of tense. I can feel their heartbeats—three different rhythms gradually syncing with mine.
“No more fighting,” I add.
“I’ll fight whoever I want,” Atticus interjects, and I feel him grin against my shoulder.
Revan laughs. “Yeah.”
Koa agrees with Atticus. “Now that I’m not dealing, somebody has to be my punching bag.”
I reach for each of them—Koa’s hand, Atticus’s arm, Revan’s fingers tangled with mine behind my back. Holding all three of them at once, bound together in this impossible configuration that shouldn’t work but does.
The reminder that Koa isn’t dealing anymore is crazy. It makes me think of all the shit that has led to this moment. I wasn’t the same person that Koa brought into the trees that first night.
“I killed my father,” I say quietly, because the darkness makes confessions easier. “I pulled the trigger, and I’d do it again.”
“We all would,” Koa says.
“Already have,” Atticus finishes.
Revan adds, “We’d do it all over again for you.”
The words should be horrifying. Should make me question what we’ve become, what we’re capable of.
Instead they feel like absolution.
“We’re not good people,” I continue.
It’s quiet.
“No,” Revan agrees. “We’re not.”
“But maybe,” Koa says slowly, “we’re good for each other.”
I think about that. About violence and survival and the way love grows in the darkest places. About how the four of us found each other through blood and chaos and somehow decided that was worth keeping.
“Yeah,” I finally say. “Maybe we are.”
Outside, the night continues. The world spins on. Somewhere, people are living normal lives with normal problems, never knowing what it feels like to kill someone and feel satisfied. To be wanted so completely by three people that they’d break all their own rules just to keep you.
But in here, surrounded by three heartbeats and the steady rhythm of breathing, I’m exactly where I need to be.
With my monsters.