Chapter 20 #2
Reva glares at the water. Then she drinks anyway, swallowing like it’s a dare she refuses to lose.
Good. That’s the part of her I like. The part that survives out of spite.
A door thuds shut somewhere down the hall as Ever comes back at a brisk pace. He shoves a med kit onto the counter. He’s breathing hard again, like he never fully came down from the woods.
He looks at the blood. Looks at Reva. Looks away like it hurts.
Ever’s gaze cuts to my hands. “Let me.”
“No,” I say immediately.
Ever blinks at me.
I lean closer, low so only he hears. “You’re shaking.”
His eyes flash. “I’m fine.”
“Sure,” I murmur. “And she’s fine, too.”
Ever’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t push. He steps back half a pace, hands fisted at his sides.
I pop the med kit open, tear open an antiseptic wipe, and then just as quickly toss it aside. I need more than a tiny wipe. I crack open the bottle of alcohol instead. “Need you to move to the table and lie down.”
Reva frowns.
“I need you to lie down on the table so I can see just how bad it is before we stitch you up.”
She goes a little paler, if possible, but Nash lifts her from the counter and carries her to the table. I spread a clean towel out behind her for her to lie on, carefully push her shirt up and over her shoulder, and she lies down.
Her gaze meets mine, dark and full of fear. Her hand flies up and grabs mine and squeezes. “I know this is gonna hurt like a bitch. I just wanted to let you know that’s okay. I promise not to hate you too much.”
I nod. “Buckle up, buttercup.”
Tipping the bottle, I pour the alcohol in a cold stream over the cut. Reva screams, a raw animal sound.
That kind of sound that makes me want to put my fist through something.
Ever curses in a long, low stream and leaves the room. Just as quickly he comes back in, marches to the other side of the table, and grabs up Reva’s hand. Nash takes her face in both of his big hands, leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got you, little wolf.”
As soon as she stops writhing, I take a good look at the wound. It’s long and gaping and maybe a half-inch deep.
“Definitely gonna have to stitch it.”
Reva sucks in a breath through her teeth. Her eyes squeeze shut for a split second. When she opens them, they’re bright and furious.
“You’re enjoying this,” she spits.
“Yank,” I say, and keep my voice light because she needs light right now even if she hates it, “if I was enjoying it, you’d be enjoying it too.”
Her cheeks go hot.
Ever’s head snaps toward me—warning.
Nash’s gaze flicks between us, sharp and curious.
I ignore both of them and get to work giving her a numbing shot, hands steady. She keens softly. “Give that a few minutes to take effect and numb you up.”
And that’s when Nash turns on Ever again.
“Now,” Nash says. “Tell me what the fuck happened after.”
Ever’s shoulders go rigid. “After?”
Nash’s gaze drops to Reva’s mouth. “After he ran.”
Reva stiffens. “Can you do this later?”
Ever’s jaw flexes. “That’s not your business.”
Nash shifts his weight, voice going low and lethal. “It became my business the second you put her in my house bleeding and half-shut down.”
Ever’s gaze flashes. “That isn’t fair, and you know it.”
“She’s still shaking,” Nash snaps. “And you—”
Reva cuts in, voice sharp. “Stop.”
Both men go still. Something in the way she says it hits a nerve. A line they didn’t expect her to draw.
“I’m right here,” she says, and her breath catches. “If you want to talk about what happened, you can talk to me.”
Nash’s eyes hold hers. “Then answer.”
Reva’s brows knit. “Answer what?”
Nash’s voice is flat. “What were you doing in the woods?”
Reva’s gaze flicks to Ever. Ever doesn’t move.
“I wanted air,” she says finally, stubborn. “I wanted to walk.”
Ever’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t contradict her. Not in front of Nash.
Nash’s gaze shifts to Ever, sharp. “And you followed her.”
Ever’s eyes go colder. “Yes.”
“Is that it?”
“Why don’t you just ask what you want to know?
You already know that I went in the woods, and I was attacked.
So why don’t you ask what you really want to know—did you and Ever have sex.
We did have sex, Nash. We were high on adrenaline, and I had my wicked way with him, and when he noticed I was bleeding and tried to stop, I wouldn’t let him.
I told him I’d never let him fuck me again if he stopped.
Does that answer your question? Did I leave anything out, Ever, or did I hit all the highlights? ”
Ever scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s about it.”
Nash chews the corner of his lips, his gaze unwavering on Reva before he transfers it to Ever. “I reckon I wouldn’t have stopped, either.”
I snort. “I can testify that fuck no, you wouldn’t have stopped.”
The tension in the room deflates, like a balloon popping.
I poke gently at Reva’s wound. She barely flinches. “All right, that’s good. Let’s get you stitched up.”
Reva swallows, her eyes dark on Nash and Ever. “I’m not a child. I will do what I want to do. You can either get on board with that, or…”
“No,” Ever says, too rough, and his eyes burn. “You’re not a child.”
While Ever and Reva stare at each other, neither willing to blink and admit the other is right, I glance at Nash.
Our silent conversation unfolds at the same time as Reva and Ever’s standoff. In my hand is a tiny metal capsule Ever brought back down with him. I glance down to Reva’s side and back to Nash as he nods once.
Just like that, I know I’m about to put the tracker in her flesh before I stitch her wound.
We’re never not going to know where this girl is again.
There’s heat in the room now that has nothing to do with the humidity. Something chemical. Something that sparks between all three of us and her, like a wire we keep tripping over.
Reva feels it. I can see it in the way her gaze flicks between us.
“I’m on board,” I say lightly, pulling attention back to me once the tracker is placed and I’m drawing floss through her skin and trying not to think about the fact that this is Reva’s skin. That I’ve just put a tracker in her body without her permission or consent.
This is about protecting her, though. Even if it means we’re protecting her from herself. From doing something stupid like running off again, where we can’t find her.
She cuts her eyes at me. “I don’t think there was ever any doubt about you, Shiloh.”
I drag in a mock-horrified gasp. “Why Reva Leigh Hart…are you saying I’m easy?”
Her eyes go round.
Nash drags in a breath, forces himself back into logic.
“This isn’t working,” he says.
Ever’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re blind,” Nash replies. “And someone is taking shots while we can’t see what’s happening.”
Reva’s head lifts, and her gaze swings to him. “Who?”
Nash’s gaze cuts to her. “Deacon, maybe.”
Reva goes still. Ever goes even stiller.
I feel the room tilt and focus on finishing up the stitches. In. Out.
Nash keeps going. “Or Mother.”
Reva’s brows knit, confusion sharp. “Mother?”
Nash’s mouth turns hard. “Not your concern. Yet.”
Reva’s voice breaks through, angry and thin, and I have to set a hand on her shoulder to remind her to be still. “Everything is my concern! This is literally about me. You don’t get to decide things about me like I’m not in the room.”
Nash’s gaze holds hers. “Then listen.” He gestures once, sharp. “We need to know if Deacon is sending men after you, or if Mother is. And once we know…we decide what we’re doing with the answer.”
Reva’s eyes narrow. “Decide what?”
Nash doesn’t blink. “If we protect you…or give you up.”
Reva’s face changes. She doesn’t cry. Something worse.
Betrayal—controlled and quiet.
Ever steps forward, threat in every line of his body. “No one is giving her up.”
Nash’s attention flicks to him. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”
Ever doesn’t blink. “It’s already decided.”
The air between them turns hot and thin. I finish off the final stitch and tie it off, then step in, not touching either. Just occupying space.
“Enough.”
Nash’s eyes flick to me, irritated.
I keep my voice even. “You want to tear each other apart, do it later. She’s still hurt.”
Nash’s jaw grinds, but he pulls back half an inch. Not much, but enough for now.
Reva looks at all three of us now, her breathing shallow, eyes bright.
She’s bleeding, confused, alive.
And she’s trying to decide if this—we—are a shelter or if we’re going to trap her.
Ever shifts his attention to her, voice lower.
“Why are you here, Reva?”
Reva frowns, and Ever slashes a hand, cutting off the obvious before she can spit it at him.
“I don’t mean your goal to kill Deacon—I know that,” he says, blunt. “I mean the reason behind it. The real reason. If we’re going to protect you, we need to know. Because this is going to keep happening while you have us in the dark.”
Reva swallows. Her gaze drops to her hands. Then she speaks, and the room goes quiet around the words.
“When I was seven,” she says, staring at the counter as if she can’t bear to look at any of us. “I woke up,” she whispers. “I heard…a noise. A thud. I don’t even know what it was. I just—something felt wrong.”
Her throat works. “I got out of bed. My sister was having a sleepover.” Her voice tightens. “I went to her room first. She wasn’t there. Her friend wasn’t there. And my parents’ room was empty too.”
Reva’s fingers curl on the table.
“So I went to the stairs,” she says. “We had this spot where you could sit back from the spindles and look down without them seeing you. We used to spy on grown-ups like it was a game.”
She laughs once—sharp, broken. “It wasn’t a game that night.”
Ever’s jaw tightens so hard I can hear it.
“I peeped down,” Reva continues, voice dropping. “And I saw my parents on their knees. Tape on their mouths. Blood on my dad’s face.”
Nash’s eyes go colder.
“I saw my mom holding my sister against her,” Reva says, and her voice breaks just a fraction. “Holding her like she could keep her there if she just held her tight enough.”
Reva swallows hard. “There were men in the room.”
Her eyes flick to Ever, then away again.
“And one of them…his arm.” She inhales like it hurts. “A rosary tattoo. Red. Like it was wrapped around him in blood.”
“That’s why you were so interested in my tattoos.” The light bulb turns on, and I can’t help interrupting.
Reva bites her lip and nods. “I had to make sure you weren’t…one of them. That seemed the easiest way.”
The kitchen goes so quiet I can hear the hum of the refrigerator. Reva keeps talking as we exchange glances over her head.
“I ran,” she says. “I found my mom’s phone. I hid in the closet. I stayed on the line with 911 because I thought…if I stayed on the line, someone would come fast enough.”
Her eyes shine. She wipes one cheek with the back of her hand like she’s angry at the moisture.
“And I heard it,” she whispers. “Pops. Like popcorn. A lot of them.”
Her mouth trembles. She presses her lips together hard. “And then it was quiet.”
I don’t ask what she saw when she came out. I don’t make her say it.
She drags in a breath and looks up at us.
“I came here,” she says, voice turning steel again, “because someone sent me a photo at work.”
Nash’s gaze sharpens. Ever’s eyes go colder.
“It was in a hand-addressed envelope,” she says. “Had my full name and a Polaroid of Noir on Toulouse Street.”
My stomach twists.
“You didn’t just ‘find’ us,” I say quietly.
Reva shakes her head once. “No.”
Her eyes flick between the three of us, confused and fierce. “Someone wanted me to come here.”
Nash moves then. He steps in close and pulls her back against his chest, pressing his forehead to her hair.
“That’s all I needed to know. No one will ever hurt you again,” he says.
Reva goes rigid for half a heartbeat. Then her shoulders drop a fraction.
I meet Ever’s eyes over her head. We exchange a look that doesn’t need words.
A vow.
Reva inhales shakily and forces herself upright again. Nash lets her go without argument, but he stays close.
Ever’s gaze doesn’t leave her. I can see the storm in him, trying to stay leashed.
Nash’s voice turns practical again because tenderness isn’t a place he lives. “You need to take a shower and get cleaned off. And then rest.”
Reva’s mouth tightens. “Look. I…I appreciate the help, but the only thing I asked for was someone to…take on a contract. If you can’t or won’t do that…well…I’m not your prisoner. I think it’s time for me to leave.”
“No,” Nash says, eyes on hers. “You’re ours to protect. Beyond that…we set the terms.”
Reva’s breath catches. So does mine. Because finally…that’s the truth and we all feel it.
I tap the bandage again, gentler this time. “Shower,” I remind her. “Keep it dry. Pat around it. Then get some rest.”
Reva slides off the table carefully, her face set. She pauses in the doorway.
“Whoever sent me here…whatever game this is…I just want to let you know that I plan on winning it.”
Good. Because I’m not quite ready to lose her. Not just yet.
Not when she didn’t come here by accident.
Not when someone put Noir in her hands like a match and watched to see what she’d burn.
And not when the three of us—whether we want to admit it or not—are already standing too close to the flame.