I gasp as a thought comes to me. “You’ve told them about the markers, didn’t you? You’re close to permanently hiding them, and now you’re ready to feed my people to the feds. Only I’m betting that’s not your end game.”
“Nope.” Logan finished for me because it’s far too easy to see where this is going. “He wants everyone to surrender to the Barricade.”
“And don’t worry”—an incredulous laugh huffs from me—“as soon as this news spreads like wildfire, and it will, the Factions will bleed out until they’re all united once again—under your wicked leadership.”
Chloe steps back into our midst, her hair pulled up, a swath of fresh peach lipstick on her lips. “What did I miss?”
“The point as usual,” I say. “Chloe, he’s using you. And if you care about Celestra at all, you’ll let the Fem-shaped scales fall from your eyes and realize there will be nothing left of our people. He is burning them down, blowing away the ashes. He knows that as long as he has you on a leash he won’t have you as opposition. Is that what you want, Chloe? To be put on a leash—to watch as your people burn to the ground? Because if it is, and you have lost all heart for your people—once this baby is born, I will leash you. Emerson and I have already discussed the best way to end you. It looks as if my plan is a go. In the event you need a reminder, Emerson is going to eviscerate you and we’re going to strangle you with your own entrails.”
Her eyes widen with horror.
“I have dreamed of killing you myself,” she says almost hypnotically. “I have dreamed of wrapping my hands around your neck, squeezing the life out of you, Skyla. I would lie awake at night and think about how to best position my hands, how to employ every ounce of my Celestra strength. My powers against yours.” She stares vacantly at the wall as the scene plays out in her twisted mind. “You would kick and writhe as you clawed at my hands, eyes bulging, your tongue fat between your teeth. And then you would grow increasingly weaker as the world around you began to fade, until you mercifully passed out. But I’ve done my homework—I’d need to persist. If I let go too soon, you might catch a much-needed breath. No. My determination to snuff the life out of you would be too great. And once I was firmly satisfied that your spirit had left your body, only then would my fingers ease their tension. Of course, you would drop to the ground like a dirty rag—I’d step on your neck on my way out the door. And after that, the air in the world would be sweeter, every sound a symphony, every sensation heightened as I walked this Skyla-free planet as if it were a heavenly realm. And it would be.”
Logan gives a long blink. “Ten bucks says that’s a bedtime story the boys have heard before.”
Gage flicks a wry smile my way as if he didn’t know what to do with it. “It is certainly the first time I’m hearing it.”
“Is that how you would do it, Gage?” I glower at this ridiculous version of my late husband. “Isn’t that what’s coming down the pike eventually? You, killing me?”
Gage inches back as if I had uttered the most ridiculous words in the world. “Why would I kill you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” The words speed out of my mouth like the fact they are.
Chloe nods. “It would have to be passion-driven. You can’t strangle the life out of someone unless you have the rage, the desire, the all-out intense rapture propelling you on.” She takes a cleansing breath, inhaling through her nose and blowing it softly from her mouth.
I look up at the monster and frown. “Did you just have an orgasm, Chloe?”
“A small one.” She runs her fingers through Gage’s thick, dark hair. “I save all the big ones for you.” She stretches a plastic smile across her face as she pins Logan down with those dark eyes. “And you just so happened to gift me my first. Of course, I was pretending I was with Gage.” She shakes her head over at her betrothed as if no one else on the planet existed. “Every time, no matter who I was with. It was you, Gage. I have only ever craved you. I have only ever wanted you. You are of more value to me than my entire existence.”
“Isn’t that wonderful, Gage?” His name practically sings from my lips as I taunt him. “And now Chloe Oliver nee Bishop finally has her every heart’s desire and you yourself have helped her accomplish this. You have turned my life into a living hell and hers into a proverbial paradise. Do you sleep well at night?”
Chloe gurgles out a dark laugh. “He does once I’m done with him.”
My stomach turns again, hot and bitter, but I resist the urge to turn for the toilet.
Logan kicks Gage’s shoe. “Answer the question. It’s not polite to ignore the mother of your children.”
Gage takes a breath and glowers at me. “Yes, Skyla. I sleep like a baby. But you’re forgetting. I don’t necessarily need sleep, now do I?”
“Then why do you look like hell?” I don’t hesitate asking since Logan’s prompted him not to ignore me.
Gage lifts a brow as if he’s amused. “Maybe, just maybe, I’m in hell right there with you.”
“On that note,” Chloe is quick to change any subject that might make her look bad. “I’d best make plans for dinner.”
Hours drag by. I wrap my arms around Logan as we watch cartoons with the boys. We discuss the bowling alley and I politely ask for my job back, to which Logan informs me I had never lost it.
It’s planting season, so Logan and Liam will be busy at the farm Logan acquired behind the bowling alley. And he’s invited me to bring the boys out during the day to watch the big tractors move copious amounts of dirt. They will be in heaven and so will I because Logan’s land just so happens to be far away from this hellhole. Let the record show the old Walsh house, Chloe and Gage’s new abode, has never done me any favors.
We eat Chinese, then Logan helps me bathe the boys and dress them for bed. Nathan and Barron run laps around the upstairs until finally I manage to wrangle them into their beds, their adorable car beds that Logan insisted on purchasing for not only this house, but for his home as well. It’s disconcerting when your children have grown-up beds everywhere but your own home. Tomorrow, we’re picking up two toddler beds that I’ll cram into my room once the social workers leave. For now, Mom said we could just show them Misty and Beau’s room. Thank God they’ve outgrown those caskets Bree had gifted them. And both Ember and Ella sleep in Em and Ethan’s bedroom. Yes, the Landon house is filled to max capacity, but I can assure every social worker in the world that it’s filled with love.
Chloe stands at the door and rolls her eyes as Logan gathers the boys to pray with us. We pray as a family—Chloe, Gage, Logan, the boys, and me—and it feels downright sacrilegious as if the house were in danger of erupting in flames. And sadly, Chloe isn’t the only devil gracing this place. Gage Oliver qualifies as one himself.
“Skyla”—Chloe’s voice is curt and grating, her bad attitude is especially highlighted after Logan’s lovely soliloquy—“I’ll speak to Wes about having your old furniture moved from the Transfer and brought to the guest room. Of course, it will be for Tobie, seeing that the old wicker mess is mine now. But you’re welcome to use it while you’re a guest in our home.”
Some time ago, Chloe bought my old wicker bedroom set at a garage sale my mother threw. I had never wanted to part with it and now it’s been defiled by Chloe first, and then the Transfer. But I do hope Tobie enjoys it.
I grunt at the thought, “I’ll have the boys sleep together. Logan and I will sleep in this bed.” I pat the side of the red plastic sports car I’m currently lounging in.
