Atticus stiffens but doesn’t move. He doesn’t get off me. Just turns his head slightly to acknowledge Revan’s presence.
Revan steps into the room, calm as always, his shadow stretching long across the bed. “Get off her.”
For once, Atticus listens.
He pushes off me and stands back, hands sliding into his pockets, expression unreadable. But his eyes stay on me. Hungry. Dark. Like he’s already planning the next time.
I scramble up, hugging my knees to my chest, keeping my distance from both of them.
Atticus lingers against the wall, watching me with that same intensity that makes my skin crawl and heat at the same time. I hate that it does both.
Revan drags a chair from the corner and sits facing me. “Lexi, Lexi,” he says lightly, like we’re old friends catching up. “We need to talk.”
“Finally. What the hell is it so I can get back to my dorm? I have classes in the morning.”
He smiles. “You’re not going back.”
I scoff. “Revan? Rev? Revy?” I flash him a sarcastic grin because he doesn’t get it. I don’t play by his fucking rulebook. “We’ve had our fun. I helped you, you helped me, so let’s talk. I can’t afford to miss my classes tomorrow.”
He claps his hands together. “Your dad.”
It takes one second to register what he means and then I burst out laughing. I don’t bother to cover my mouth as I throw my head back and laughter leaves my throat. “My dad? Oh, man.”
Revan doesn’t blink. Doesn’t smile. Just watches me with those calculating eyes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I step off the bed with a smile on my face. “You could slice my neck open in this room. I could bleed out all over this pretty floor.” My hands gesture, painting the picture. “It’d make the news, headlines nationwide, and my dad?” My voice goes cold, bitter. “That man wouldn’t even shed a tear. He wouldn’t come out of hiding.” I pause. “He’s dead to me.”
Revan watches me carefully. “When was the last time you saw him?”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “You really want to know?”
He doesn’t answer. Just waits.
“When my mom died.” My voice softens, tightens around the words. “He grabbed his meth pipe from under the couch and blamed me and my brother for everything. For her. For him. For being a fucking pathetic piece of shit!” I raise my brows at him. “He left her dead in that room with us,” I continue, voice flat now. Empty. “So, no. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“Feisty,” Revan murmurs and takes a moment to think. And then he stands, making me remember his height against mine. He has about a foot on me. I’m not even that short for a woman. He lifts his hand and reaches for my face.
I smack his hand away. Hard.
His other hand comes up—firmer this time—catching my jaw. Forcing me to look at him.
“Now,” he says, “about that boyfriend of yours.”
“Oh my god.” I groan, rolling my eyes despite his grip on my face. “You are obsessed with him.”
He smirks, tightening his hold just slightly. “Do you like to get high?”
I push against his chest at his stupid fucking question. “Do you?”
“Ah.” His grin widens. “There it is. The pain point.”
He studies me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Like every reaction I give him is a piece clicking into place. I hate that he can read me so easily.
“Do you know what your boyfriend really does?” he asks, and I’m suddenly aware of what’s happening now.
I divert the conversation, remembering how Koa treated me. Is he evil? Hell yes. Was he kind enough to ask for kisses and wait for me to make the first move? Yes. These assholes don’t compare to a man like him.
So, I say, “I know he’s insane, and he’s probably looking for me right now.”
