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.
54
Epilogue - One Month Later
LEXI
The Pointe University arena feels different than it did a month ago. Less suffocating. Less like a cage where bad things happen and more like just a building where people watch hockey.
Maybe that's because I'm different now.
Or maybe it's because I'm sitting between Revan and Atticus in the stands, wearing Koa's away jersey—the one with his number 19 and name on the back—and I don't have to hide anymore.
The students around us noticed when we sat down. I caught the whispers, the not-so-subtle glances at Revan and Atticus in their Blackridge hoodies, at me. I straighten my spine. Let themlook. Let them whisper. I literally do not care what anyone thinks.
"He's playing good tonight," Revan says beside me, his arm draped casually over the back of my seat. Not possessive, just... there. Present.
"He always plays well," I respond, watching Koa streak down the ice. Even from here I can see the controlled aggression in every movement, the way he reads plays before they develop.
"He's showing off," Atticus corrects from my other side, his British accent cutting through the arena noise. "There's a difference."
He's not wrong. Koa's been playing harder since we got here, taking shots he doesn't need to take, hits that are borderline excessive. Making sure we're watching.
The game is intense—Pointe up by one going into the second period. Koa's already got a goal and two assists, and every time he skates past our section I feel his eyes find me even through his helmet visor.
"My brother texted me today," I say to Revan during a commercial timeout.
