She floats up and wallops me over the face with the fiery palm of her hand.
If I were human, my skull would have fractured before it sailed right off my neck.
“They’ve left.” Her eyes glow like coals.
“Shit.” I land my hand over my cheek to comfort it. “Who left?” No sooner do the words leave my lips than I realize exactly who she’s talking about.
I stagger into the grand room to find it empty, the fire extinguished, the playing cards scattered around the floor like confetti.
“You let your guard down.” Sage’s voice is tight as she strides up beside me. “The hedge you shielded our home with was your own. As soon as weakness was detected, Sector Marshall appeared. He took them all and they vanished.” Her stormy eyes fasten to mine with an unrepentant rage. “You cost me, Alice. I am not pleased with you, Father.”
“Crap.” I set foot into the room a few more feet, and for the first time in a very long while, I feel vulnerable.
Skyla whittled down my defenses, lowered my guard, and now all hell is about to break loose.
“Don’t worry, Sage,” I say as I glare at the void before me. “I’m not too pleased with myself either. I won’t disappoint us ever again.”
And I will make damn sure of it.
I pull out my phone and send a text to Cooper Flanders. I think it’s time I shore up a little insurance.
4
Logan
They say when it rains it pours. And, suffice it to say, it has been a shitstorm in my life these past few days, months, years. And if that haunted island I live on, and its equally shitty weather, is any indication—things won’t clear up anytime soon. They’ll linger, they’ll become a pattern, and drag on in one long riot of chaos for the unforeseeable future.
But not today. Perhaps today is the marker we’ll be able to look back on as the turning point of all this madness. The day that Ezrina, Nev, little Alice, and I were liberated from Gage Oliver’s private hell. And now that my feet are back on sweet Paragon soil, I plan to raise a little hell myself and drown Gage like the river rat he’s proving to be.
The Landon house stands like a haven amidst the boil of angry clouds as they rain down their fury. The door is unlocked, and I bullet inside faster than that cyclone that’s about to hit Gage Oliver’s life.
“Skyla?” I shout, panting and out of breath. As soon as Marshall dropped us off at Whitehorse, I didn’t bother to ask for a lift. Instead, I implemented my Nephilim speed and ran like a greyhound all the way here. It’s only been days that I’ve been gone, but hell, it feels like months.
It’s late afternoon, bordering on evening. The lights are on and the scent of one of Emily’s vegan stews is enlivening the air as well as my stomach. I’m starving, I’m pissed, and all I want is to hold my wife, my sweet baby, and the boys. Gage is far more delusional than I thought, and for that reason alone, I plan on keeping him the hell away from Nathan and Barron. The old Gage, the one who I think actually existed, would have begged me to do it.
“Skyla?” Her name thunders from me as if I were angry with her. I head into the family room and spot Drake and Ethan, Skyla’s stepbrothers battling it out via a video game, while a gaggle of children sit on the floor mesmerized as they stare up at the TV—Beau Geste, Misty, Ember, and Ella. All of them belong to Drake minus Misty. That one belongs to Demetri. They’re better known around here as the five and under club. They like their cartoons loud, their food messy, and their screaming matches heard all the way over on the mainland.
Emily Morgan stands in the dining room chatting on her phone, her shock of dark hair bobbing in rhythm to the hostility in her voice. But it’s Lizbeth, Skyla’s mother, who snags my full attention, with her blouse split open, tits out, a toe-headed angel contently suckling away at what I pray isn’t her nipple.
“Jaxson.” It comes out with a breath of relief as Lizbeth looks up with surprise.
“Logan! Skyla has been worried sick about you. You’re not contagious, are you?”
“Why would I be contagious?” My stomach cinches because I have a feeling I’m about to blow the cover story I should very much be a part of.
“She said you might have the chicken pox. Oh hon, unless you have clearance from your doctor, you need to just retrace your steps, young man. I have a houseful of tots and a wee one here, and nobody has time for that itchy, twitchy hell.”
“I’m fine, I promise.” I twitch my fingers, and she gives a disapproving frown before releasing my son to me. As soon as he pulls away, I can see he was merely sleeping. And I can also see that third nipple she’s taped to her body right next to the real deal. It’s attached to some pouch that delivers formula or breast milk—that of her daughter’s—right to the baby. I’m not a fan of my soon-to-be mother-in-law nursing my kid with her boob, but I’m glad he’s safe and loved. “Where’s Skyla?”
“In your room.” She wrinkles her nose. “She’s been a bit under the weather, you know,moody. All things that are normal for a new mother. Not to mention she’ll be a new bride in a month. She has an awful lot on her plate.” Her nose twitches. “But I must say, I was a bit surprised when she called Emma and told her to pick up the boys. Skyla didn’t even pack their things. Emma and I wrangled it all together.” She snarls. “And boy was that woman gleeful when she strode right out of here with my grandbabies.”
My eyes widen with horror.
For Skyla to give the boys to Emma for ten minutes is a huge deal, but to shuffle them off to Emma’s for an undisclosed amount of time is downright alarming.
“I’m heading up,” I say as I cradle my precious boy in my arms. I never take my eyes off of the sleeping squirming prince as we make our way upstairs. The blond peach fuzz on his head wafts like feathers in the breeze, and his lips twitch as though they were anxious to break out into a smile. The door to our room is closed, and I give a gentle knock before entering. “Hey,” I whisper in the darkened room, only to find Skyla sitting up, startled, with her phone in her hand, music blaring from it. The curtains are drawn, and it’s black in the room, save from the light illuminating from her screen.
“Logan?” she says, stunned as I head on over, the smile on my face ever-expanding as she silences her phone.
