It was a mistake to follow them out here.
Devil’s Peak. I thought they had come to talk. Logan would defuse Skyla’s rage. They’re communicating, all right. And here I am standing outside, just feet away ready to push the entire damn car with the two of them in it off the cliff side.
Initially, when the altercation with Skyla occurred earlier this evening, I thought it might be healthy for her to get it all out, rage against the monsters before her, Chloe and me. And how I hate that I’m paired with Chloe in any discernable way, let alone tagged as a couple. But my cruel design is proving harsh. I have taken it too far. My strategy of pushing her to the limit in hopes she would retaliate, injure the Barricade in some small way, hasn’t exactly panned out how I had hoped. In fact, it fell back in my face like a shit pie.
What the hell was I thinking allowing her to believe she was nothing more than some competition between Logan and me? It’s the furthest thing from the truth. If I didn’t feel as if destiny was pulling us together, I would have never shared that first kiss with her. I would have forced myself to be content lusting from afar until I willed that feeling away—not that I could have. She would have belonged to Logan then.
But she doesn’t exclusively belong to Logan. She never has. Skyla is mine. If anything, she is something that Logan and I have been forced to share, just not at the same time. And this would be Logan’s moment. Logan’s freaking moment.
I’m not happy about it. In fact, the real reason I followed them out here was to rip this shit show wide open and confess. I was ready to drop to my knees, beg both their forgiveness, and ask them to understand that I couldn’t live an eternity away from either of them. I was about to tell them that I haven’t changed, not where it counts, that my marriage to Chloe is a sham, that I have not stopped loving Skyla, loving her people, loving who we were—that we were real.
It was the doubt, the double-minded horror I inflicted on her that I wish I could take back. But at the end of the day, Skyla is a smart woman. She must know unequivocally that I love her. How could she ever doubt what we had?
I glower at the orange menace before me, now still and quiet, the murmur of voices growing increasingly scant. Yes, I’ve pushed her to him. But this? Skyla and Logan getting together in this way so very quickly, burns me to the core.
The Mustang begins to quake again, slowly, so painfully slowly, then quicker with a steady rhythm that lets me know Logan has no problem getting it up for round two.
It takes all of my self-control not to rip the door right off the car. Rip Logan’s head right off his body and throw both him and his dick onto the jagged rocks below.
Maybe every word she said was true. Maybe I was second best to Skyla, after all. Maybe a part of her has wanted this with him all along. It’s not me fate chose to be with her tonight. Fate took my bloodlines and pissed all over them, ensuring Skyla and I would end up on opposite sides of the celestial fence.
It’s not ingrained in her DNA to show me an ounce of affection. I am the enemy through and through. Of course, she was biding time with me until Logan became available once again. To think Skyla could have ever truly been mine is laughable when you think about it. The Celestra and the Fem. It’s a joke. I’m the laughing stock of the celestial gentry to think that I could have ever stood a chance.
I no sooner stood a chance at having it all with Skyla than Demetri does with Lizbeth.
We don’t get the girl. We get the periphery. Although, in my psychotic father’s case, he most definitely has the girl, he has her attention, her affection, and ironically, they share a child—Misty. Skyla and I share custody. That’s about the only thing I’ll ever have with Skyla on this planet again.
The car rocks hard, a loud cry comes from the Mustang, and I am out of here. I storm off toward the street, staggering into the night like a drunk on a mean bender, and I spot a couple in the woods dancing, laughing, the scent of weed and liquor blooming from that direction. I’m about to take off when the dude gives a familiar cackle. I’d know that voice anywhere. I barrel on over, ready to blow a hole through Ellis for taking advantage of my sister in the woods like some animal, but the closer I get, the more certain I am that it’s not my sister.
“Dude,” I riot at Ellis and slam his horny ass into the nearest tree. “What the hell are you doing?”
Emerson Kragger grunts as she buttons her jeans up, her tits hanging out of her top for the world to see.
“Don’t dude me.” Ellis gives me a bold shove back.
“Trust me on this”—my voice vibrates with insurmountable rage—“you don’t want a piece of my misery tonight, Ellis. And if you think I’m pissed, wait until Giselle finds out. If I were you, I’d run home and hide like the coward you are.”
Ellis stuffs his junk back into his pants as well as his drunken limbs will allow. “What the hell are you talking about? G isn’t pissed. I’m about to make her night.”
“Dude!” I riot ten times louder than before, so loud it sounds like thunder. “This isn’t G! It’s Emerson Kragger. Would you open your stoned eyes for once?”
Ellis’ eyes widen on cue, accompanied by a look of fright on his face, as Emerson laughs up a storm. But I don’t stick around for the fallout. I step over to the road and stand in the middle of it, just daring a car to barrel on through me. I’m not too interested in traffic. Instead, I pull out my phone and text my brother.
Eversor, the weapons room, now. I want the Valkyrie there.
It’s time to kill, steal, and destroy.
* * *
“Father!” Sage greets me as soon as my feet hit the ground in what is truly panning out to be an eyesore, a play on the name of this place itself if you ask me. The sky is black, the mega mansion large enough to house all of Paragon is illuminated a dull gray, and the light shining through the windows, dismal.
I hoist Sage into my arms as I supernaturally land us into the weapons room. The room itself is massive, the size of West Paragon High give or take the gym. Swords of every shape and size line the walls, and in the far back lies a bunch of prehistoric shit that I wouldn’t even know how to hold, let alone kill someone with.
“What’s got you so unnerved?” Sage jumps down from my arms as I head over to the stone round table and lay my hand over the surface until the last war plan we put together pops up. The entire surface acts as a screen, medieval meets modern type of a flair. “It’s Mother, isn’t it? She’s gone too far.”
“You got that right,” I mutter under my breath as I pull up a fresh map and begin marking it up with my anger and bad ideas.
“She’s done it, hasn’t she? Only one thing could have you so incensed. She’s with Uncle Logan now. Am I right? She is such a pig.”
