The week blows by like wind racing across the face of Devil’s Peak, alarmingly quick and bitter. Of course, Wesley has proven impossible to locate, thus postponing his ass whipping from Cooper. And Laken is determined to initiate one herself. On the Landon front, Mom and Tad have the food in the house sealed in plastic bags while emptying the fridge into a moldy cooler. The big day has arrived in which we pump this entire oversized cabin with nerve gas and expect to return in three days as if nothing ever happened.

All I can think about is the delicate nervous systems of my two beautiful boys. If anything unfortunate should happen to them as a result of all those toxic fumes being delivered straight into our sleeping quarters, I will never be able to forgive myself. The boys are everything to me. It’s as if life never really existed before they arrived. It’s their smiles, their deep husky laughter that warms me to the bone. They’ll be five months old tomorrow, and already they can sit up on their own, albeit while doing their best Weeble Wobble impressions. Okay, so they’re not quite stable, but they’re getting close. But my mother has assured me they are well on track as far as development goes. Emma agrees and takes it a step further by adding, especially for twins, as if the fact they arrived in duplicate had somehow lessened the odds of their developmental success. But, nevertheless, she seems impressed with the two little geniuses—and that, right there, is something we can both agree on.

Gage comes in panting after loading the minivan to the hilt, and I hand him Barron, already winded myself. I’ve got my Host sweatshirt on, and my hair in a ponytail, all ready to go on this, our quasi-official moving day.

“Let’s say goodbye to everyone.” I rebalance Nathan in my arms as we head to the family room. It feels good like this with my husband by my side, our family pieced back together again. All of that horror with the bowling alley has unsettled me. It underscores the fact that yes, things can and will change. Things that I believed were set in stone for eternity were only here for a short season—the bowling alley, much like Logan himself.

Mom jumps in front of me and snags Nathan from my arms. “Don’t you take these babies away from me!” she growls right in his face, and he begins to sputter and cry.

“Give him back.” I take the baby from her and give a quick once-over to the kitchen, every last cabinet unsuspecting of what’s about to befall it.

Drake and Ethan grunt their way out the back patio door with a five-foot long cooler between them.

Bree hurdles it with a giant grin on her face as she speeds her way over. “You guys should totally stay with me! It’ll be like one big slumber party!”

My mouth opens as I glance to Gage. “Actually, thanks for the offer, but Logan’s already gone through the trouble of getting Whitehorse ready for us.” Not to mention the fact Mom, Tad, Misty, and Beau are staying in the mobile home with them. It’s cozy, yet cold, and no matter how many times Bree tells me it’s a two bedroom, I’ve yet to find that second room.

“Ooh!” Her brows waggle as if the fact we were staying at Whitehorse was salacious news on some level. “Just the two of you in that big ol’ house? Lizbeth”—she barks, and both Nathan and I straighten—“get ready to welcome baby number three in about nine months from now!”

Tad limps over from the kitchen with his face contorted as if he’s just had a stroke. “Not on my watch!” He jams his finger toward Gage’s crotch, and suddenly I’m fearing for far more than my future prospective children. Swear to God, if he touches my man’s lightning rod, I will rain down hell on the Landon house the likes of which it has never seen. I’ll make sure that entire burn unit scenario he underwent last winter is looked upon longingly once I’m through. “Put a sock on it this time, would you? Or better yet, keep it in your pants! You’ve already doubled the trouble to this household. There’s no way—”

Mom is quick to karate chop his dangling appendage, and Tad lets out a yelp. “What he’s trying to say is”—she bats her lashes at the two of us manically because she’s mortified to be married to him for once—“we would welcome another delicious Oliver baby with open arms!” She scoops up Barron’s foot and pretends to gobble it up, which only reduces him to the most adorable husky gurgles. “You have the yummiest corn niblet toes! Yes, you do!” She dives for Nathan’s feet, and he wisely retracts while laughing wildly.

Bree bats her away as she steps in close. “You’re welcome, and your babies are welcome, too. Besides, we need to get together and plan my big night out. It’s not every day a girl gets hitched.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Drake howls as he and Ethan file back in. “I keep telling her we’ve already done this shit.”

“Oh hush, you.” Mom all but gives Drake the finger. “You’ve already deprived us of one wedding. Don’t you dare deprive us of another. In fact, you’re welcome to have both the ceremony and reception right here at the house.”

“No way, no how. We’ve already gone around the thorny block,” Tad barks while arranging the miniature vaginas on the table that both he and Mom are equally obsessed with as of late. “Of course, a monetary incentive could easily change my mind. In that case, the offer is very much still open.”

Bree grunts at her bother-in-law. “Like we said, Drake and I have already paid Logan for the whole thing. Besides, if I were to have it here, I’d have to remodel this entire kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances, redo these grotesque floors, and put in marble or gleaming hardwood, and don’t get me started on the furniture. Logan’s place is already updated.”

Something a little more aggressive than a hiccup comes from Tad as he gallops forward. “New furniture? Say, like a comfy new recliner for yours truly?” Saliva wets his lips and—dear God, did Tad just drool?

Mom joins her shoulder to his. “A complete remodel?”

“Oh, yes.” Brielle is emphatic as she picks up Beau, spanks his bottom, then puts him back down. “I’m talking crème de la crème, luxury all the way. That’s why Silent Cove is so perfect. Plus, Logan said he’d help hire the very same caterer Laken and Cooper used last summer.”

Tad leans in as an anguished cry escapes him. “But, but—what about the remodel?” The cords in his neck distend with frustration. “You can even gut the bathrooms if you like. You can put in side-by-side gold thrones! Think about it, kids. His and hers flushers. Think of the toilet paper races, the beautiful bonding that an experience like that can afford you!”

Gage and I share a grimace.

“And on that note.” I pull Mom and her ever-present fake mole in for a quick kiss.

Tad chokes as if he’s got a chicken bone lodged in his throat. “We’re not done here! Look at all the goodies we can hand out.” He waves over the table of mini vajayjays, and Mom and I shudder at the same time.

Bree scoops up a handful of the tiny pink treasures with their tiny pearls embedded over that sweet spot that Gage has memorized oh so well.

“Yes, to the goodies—no, to the venue. I’m staying strong with Silent Cove.”

“Sorry, Pops.” Drake whacks Tad over the shoulder and brings him back to life. “I’ll catch you on the next wedding.”

Bree is quick to smack him. “This whole thing is a pain in the ass for poor Logan to plan out. We’re not having another wedding.”

“Not with you I’m not.” They take off, and Gage and I set out to do the same. Just as we almost make a break for it, Em barrels out of her room and knocks into Gage.

“Whoa.” He manages to swing Barron out of the way just in time because he’s amazing like that. Gage Oliver is truly my hero. As much as I don’t like what Demetri has essentially trapped him into doing, I appreciate the fact he’d lay his life and soul down for the boys. I didn’t think I could love him any more than I already did, but I sure as hell do.

“Where are you off to?” Em slits those aggressively bored eyes our way.

“Whitehorse,” I’m quick to offer. “And you and Ethan?”

“My folks’.” She frowns as if this isn’t a good thing. “Ember is scared shitless of the place, so we’re leaving her in the trailer.” No sooner does she say it than little Ember runs out screaming.

“Mee-Maw! Tampon!”

“Oh God.” I touch my fingers to my lips. “We need to nip that little sanitary nickname in the bud because if word gets out on the mean Paragon streets, our kids are never going to live that down.”

Em rolls her eyes as if I’ve erred on the side of the dramatic. “She’s just calling it like she sees it.” She starts to walk off, then backtracks, poking her finger in Gage’s chest. “Get your shit together. I’d like to see my brother again one day soon.” Her slitted eyes return to me. “And, you”—she pokes her finger in my boob, and I let out a yelp—“I have a message for you.”

A breath hitches in my throat because traditionally Em’s messages usually frighten me right out of my skin. Those prognosticating panic-riddled pattern filled nightmares have routinely led me straight into trouble—with the exception of that one time she predicted the arrival of the twins who were actually triplets—my precious serpentine butterfly. Poor Sage, all alone in the nethersphere with my mother of all people. It’s no wonder she’s a pint-sized danger to herself and others. Once things die down, I plan on venturing up there and spending some good quality alone time with her.

“We don’t want another message,” Gage answers for me as he herds us down the hall.

“It’s from Chloe,” she barks after us. “She says it’s time to make good on that promise or she’s bailing.”

“Freaking Chloe,” I mutter under my breath as we hit the porch. “Will do!” I shout back and wave before Gage and I take off for the waiting minivan and load it up with our love.

Gage buckles in the last twin before wrapping his strong arms around my waist and landing those perfectly formed full lips to mine as we share a hot, delicious kiss.

“You ready to have a few blissful days with just you, me, and the boys?” Those dark brows of his do a little dance, and my insides quiver at the sight.

“I am ready to have a lifetime of just you and me and the boys.”

“Good. Let’s move it.” He gives my bottom a light pat, and I can’t help but giggle. “Is that a naughty sign of things to come?”

His lids hood low, those dimples of his dig in deep. “I think the very first thing we should do is get naughty and come.”

“Ooh.” I wince. “Lucky for you, the boys are asleep.”

“And if we’re both lucky, they’ll stay that way for hours.” He gives a gentle peck to my lips before we hop into the van.

It’s just the boys, Gage, and me.

I look out the window and frown up at my bedroom window because it once belonged to that gnat in my eye—Chloe.

Yes, for the next few days, it’s going to be just the boys, Gage, and me.

And Chloe.

Damn her to hell.

And if my plan works, I will do just that.

The drive to Whitehorse is giddy with sexual prospect as Gage entertains me with the things he plans on doing to my body once we get settled. He’s convinced that the boys will nap for four days straight.

“You are a dirty, dirty boy.” I reach over and pick up his hand as he takes the final turn, and we both gasp as that gaping hole that once held the bowling alley comes up ahead. “My God, it’s like a slap in the face.”

“It feels as if the island is giving us the middle finger.”

“I’ll say.”

The minivan curves into the driveway, but my head remains craned to that desolate sight. “I hope Ellis’ craptastic idea pays off for Logan.”

“It paid off for us.” He gives a shit-eating grin as he kills the engine. “Come on, the boys are asleep. I want to carry you over the threshold. This is a big deal. A week-long vacay from Tad is like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one.”

“Oh, come on. You know you’re going to miss the hell out of him.” I give a little wink and run up the porch laughing.

Gage flips a baseball cap over his head and opens the side door of the minivan closest to where we can keep an eagle eye on the boys.

I waste no time in doing a little happy dance at our prospective—albeit short-lived freedom.

Gage pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of me at the door. “Wait, I want to get a video of this for posterity.” I give a brisk wave to the camera and flash my brightest smile.

One day when I’m old and gray I want to look back at how happy it made me to know I’d be doing a little horizontal dance with my handsome hubby in just a few short minutes.

“Come here.” I wave him over in haste.

“Let me set this thing down.” He trots his phone over to the railing and rests it against the post.

“You ready to do this?” Gage strides my way with that come hither look in his eyes, and I’m ready and willing to do just about anything with him right about now.

“Yes!” I hop up and down, hardly able to control my Landon-free enthusiasm.

Gage turns the knob, and the door flies open. Then in one fell swoop he picks me up and spins me with a kiss. “To our first official home on Paragon.”

“Only home,” I tease as I pull him in by the bill of his hat. I’m not ready to call the old Walsh house ours just yet. “Gimme a forever kiss,” I say, batting my lashes, doing my best to seduce him. The last thing I want to talk about is real estate, this home or any other. I just want this to be about us.

Just as he’s about to carry me past that threshold, a horrible sinking feeling settles in. Something about this feels all too familiar. I’ve been here before—been here, done this—said those very words.

“Turn that off.” My head cranes to the camera in horror, and I leap out of his arms like a gymnast. My heart wrenches with agony as I fumble with the phone, struggling to shut the damn thing off.

“What’s going on?” Gage appears at my side, his arms secured to my shoulders as if he needed to hold me down to earth, and he might.

“Demetri.” A silent cry bucks through me at the thought of how much pain we just invoked in Logan. “Summer before senior year, Logan’s birthday—we were at Demetri’s—in that damned theater.” I shake my head, still dismayed by the memory. “Demetri used that footage we just shot to torment Logan. It was just Demetri being an asshole.” My heart wallops hard because I have a feeling it was so much more than that. Why choose this moment to torment Logan? Was Demetri sending Logan a heartbreaking message? Or was it meant for me? I glance back to the boys still sound asleep in their car seats.

“So this was the vision.” Gage takes a step back and glares at Whitehorse as if it were the house’s fault. “Me here at the house that Logan built.”

“Trust me, you’re the last person Demetri was messing with.”

“Or am I.” He gives a depleted frown at the doorframe that holds the banner of Logan’s love for me. “We never made it through the threshold.” He shakes his head at that gaping doorway. “He’s speaking to me, Skyla.”

I join him in staring blankly at the dark hole of the house. “What do you think he’s saying?” I whisper, afraid to ask—praying that perhaps he didn’t hear me.

Gage wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his head on my shoulder, our gaze still fixed on the porch. “He’s about to interrupt us. That’s what it means, Skyla. He was just showing off for you and Logan. It’s me he’s about to stab in the heart.”

The two of us stand there for who knows how long, staring at the opened door as if it led to a black hole. I don’t doubt for a moment that it does. But I’ll be damned if I let Demetri steal another thing from the two of us.

“He doesn’t own us.” I spin into my gorgeous husband’s arms and lock my wrists around his neck. “And he will never shape our destinies.”

He lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes briefly. “You’re right. This is our springtime.”

“The time of our rebellion.”

His lips rise at the tips. “No rules.”

“Just you and me, together forever.” I hike up on my heels, and Gage and I share a heartfelt kiss, his tongue probing me as if the answers to life were hiding right there in my mouth. Then just like that, he scoops me up and races me across the threshold, and we laugh, right there—in the face of Demetri Edinger.

We collect the boys and carefully bring them up to the master bedroom with us. Gage faces them toward the wall and covers them both, still snug in their carriers.

The bed is turned down on one end, revealing crisp sheets that feel as if they have never been slept in. I wondered how I would feel in this room, in this bed realizing that Logan would know we defiled it. But deep down, I don’t think Logan sees it that way. Deep down, I don’t either. This is a room. This is a bed. And starting right now, it belongs to Gage and me.

Gage comes at me with that devilish grin, taking off his shirt as he makes his way over. The breadth and width of his muscular frame, his wingspan with those well-defined lats, those abs as hard as granite.

“Gage Oliver.” I have to catch my breath. My God, he truly is a stunning specimen. “Are you threatening me with your body?”

“Hell yes, I am.” He lands me on the bed as a steady stream of giggles bounce through my throat. “And I’m going to punish you with it, too.” He ravishes me with heated kisses up and down my neck, and I struggle to keep from exploding with laughter.

Gage takes my clothes off. He washes me from head to toe with his tongue, penetrates me with all of his love.

Gage could never punish me with his body.

It is always a pleasure.

The third day of our second honeymoon, I take the boys to Marshall’s while Gage takes off for finals back at Host. The island basks in its monochromatic glory despite the fact summer is nipping at our heels. Both Barron and Nathan are fast asleep, so I schlep them into the living room one by one.

“You know, you could have helped.” I take a moment to frown at my favorite Sector.

“I adore observing you in the throes of motherhood.” The words strum from him with absolute boredom. “It suits you. Have you thought of more children?”

“Ha!” I laugh in his face, and both boys flinch, so I lead us over to the piano. “Are you kidding? I can hardly handle two. I miss sleeping. I miss my old jeans. Heck, I miss my old boobs.” I pluck at my blouse, and his brows rise with approval.

“What brings you and your”—his eyes sink to my chest—“new, voluptuous, beautiful, nurturing—”

“I get it.” I take a seat on the sofa and Marshall is quick to land next to me with his arm draped over my shoulders, and a wild fit of vibrations strums from his body to mine. The haunted speculum in the corner winks in the light. “Chloe is meeting me here. I’ve summoned her.”

“Summoned, have you?” An obnoxious grin spreads like wildfire over his face.

“Okay, so she summoned me. But nevertheless, we’ve business to tend to.”

That gorgeous face of his reconfigures into a perfect scowl, and he looks that much more comely. It’s shocking the women of Paragon aren’t beating down his door, not in the same disturbing frequency they used to anyway.

“Skyla, you know that I wish you well in this new war you’ve embroiled yourself in. May your sharp arrows pierce the hearts of your enemies. Let their nations fall beneath your feet.”

A heart-stoppingly beautiful moment pulses between us. “That was a gorgeous benediction. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And—speaking of having business to tend to with the aforementioned beast.” I curl my finger under his chin as if I were trying to seduce him, when in fact we’re both fully aware I’m about to do my best to seduce a little info out of him. “When will you pay back my darling new pet for stealing that bed warmer from Ezrina? I believe you promised retribution.” Honest to God, some of the most horrific things that have happened to me were a direct result of me showing off my five-finger discount skills when it comes to the Sextor’s secret things. Having my arm chopped off, that entire fiasco at winter camp a few years back where Kate lost her head—yup, all nefarious arrows point right back to Marshall’s draconian punishment tactics. But why should I reap all the horrific benefits? Surely, Chloe of all people could use a hatchet or two hurled her way. Just the mention of a hatchet makes me miss old-school Ezrina.

His brows dip as he frowns. “I’ve already begun the wheels of punishment brewing for Ms. Bishop. Worry you not about my retribution. I’m afraid you’ve enough on your own plate as far as raining down the comeuppance on the parties that have wronged you and your people.”

“Touché to that. You know”—I tap his shoe with my own—“you’re the only one who hasn’t asked me what I’m doing with her.” My heart lets out a few wild wallops because clearly this alarms me on some level.

“There are some things, Ms. Messenger, that I do not wish to be apprised of.”

“Nice. I wish there were more people like you in my world. Because I loathe the day I need to cough up my confession to Logan and Gage. It’s ridiculous the way they have me on a leash.”

“You don’t believe that, and neither do I.”

“No, but it sounded good.” I think about it for a moment. “They used to, but something’s happened. Ever since Gage has sacrificed his destiny for the boys, it’s as if nothing has really been the same. Logan, Gage, and I have always been a team.”

“Quite an erotic team,” he adds without a single dash of humor.

“Yes, well, you can get off your high horse because you’re a member.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He glides his finger over my cheek. “I am not a member alongside Jock Strap or the Pretty One. I’m in a league of my own. Lest, you forget our spiritual bond—our covenant with one another that transcends flesh and blood.” He traces the outline of my lips, and my body indulges in a mean quiver. Damn hormones. “Our love is unique, special, and true. I left the heavenlies for you—retained the proper permits to dwell among humans and Nephilim alike.”

“Permits, huh? I sound like a construction project you’ve undertook.” My thighs rush with pleasure as if they too were about to take on a project of their own—Operation Climax. It’s never safe to sit this close to Marshall.

His cheeks depress into rarely seen dimples. “I treaded the weary halls of West Paragon High for you.” He’s too busy itemizing his horrific sacrifices to offer up a proper comeback to my architectural humor.

“Now that you mention it, I’ve always wondered why you chose a position of authority rather than being my contemporary, like say Logan or Gage.”

Marshall groans at the mention of their names. “Although I consider myself your contemporary, your rival, your fully equipped lover—I don’t consider myself theirs. Casting myself from the heavenlies was a supreme sacrifice all on its own, but to demote myself to a teenager was more than I could bear.”

“Fully equipped lover, huh?”

A growl emits from him, low and husky. “I can demonstrate if you like.”

The doorbell rings in triplicate, followed by hasty knocking that jars the boys to life with a startled cry.

“I’d say I was saved by the bell, but I think we both know who that is.”

Chloe bursts in just as both Nathan and Barron scream as if their hair was on fire, and I unbuckle and scoop them up one by one.

“Oh no!” I pepper their sweet, rather irate faces with kisses. “Please be good for Uncle Marshall.”

“Pardon?” He turns abruptly from the powwow he was having with Chloe.

“Well, you can’t expect me to take them along.”

Chloe enters the living room with a bounce in her step. “Where we off to? Let me guess, the Gas Lab? The mall?” She sticks her finger down her throat and pretends to gag.

“Tenebrous,” I say and Barron wails so sharp and loud you’d think he understood me. Of course, Barron’s high-pitched wailing gets Nathan’s feathers ruffled, and now it’s a soprano choir in here.

“Good Lord, can’t you control the little monsters?” Chloe growls at the boys. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of their competitive crying. Tenebrous sounds like heaven compared to this whiny baby hell you’ve leashed yourself to.”

“Tenebrous?” Marshall grunts as if he’s the next one to throw a fit.

“Yes. Chloe and I need privacy. It’s the best solution. Besides, who knows how many spies Wesley has swarming the island. They’re everywhere. You can’t escape them.” It’s true. You can’t go three feet on Paragon without having a fed trying to pose as a tourist. They’re everywhere, expanding over the island like bread mold.

“Skyla.” Marshall ticks his head to Wesley’s betrothed.

“Not this spy. She belongs to me.” I give Chloe a quick wink while handing the noisy boys over to Marshall, and no sooner do they land in his arms than they both let out a hearty sigh. Marshall jostles them a bit, and they share a laugh in turn, warming me to the marrow.

“God, they have the best laugh.” I kiss them both on the cheek before hiking up on my tiptoes and offering one up to Marshall, too. He turns just enough for me to land smack on his lips. “I’d say I owe you one, but I think I just gave it.”

“You do owe me one.” Marshall glares at the two of us as we head out the door. “And I’ll be cashing in sooner than you think.”

“Anything you want! It’s yours!”

Chloe grunts as I lead her out to the woods. “Ten bucks says he’ll demand a blowjob. He’ll be balls deep before evening.”

“You wish.”

“I do wish. Wesley hasn’t touched me in months. I’m like a virgin all over again.”

“Lovely.” I take up her hand as we enter the thicket behind Marshall’s home and step into a fog so dense you can take a bite out of it. “Control your hormones for five seconds and think Tenebrous.”

“Nice of you to take me to hell.”

“Well, if I’ve heard you say it once, I’ve heard you say it a thousand times—there’s no place like home.”

There was a time when Tenebrous was abhorrent, a thing of horror, a hell whose best hope was a blaze that ravished every last inch of it. But the tunnels closed, the Celestra who were once imprisoned here are now free or had long since died along with their dreams. Then in a twist that only life could provide, I requested it from Demetri as a wedding gift. Yes. I acquired an entire plane of existence for the mere price of marrying his son. Gage was baffled as were most of those who discovered the fact, but Logan and I knew that if our Retribution League were to thrive, it needed a prison of its own. And that’s exactly what this is—was. A year ago, it was filled with Videns who had voluntarily become a thing of horror themselves—Spectators, the lore of which zombies come from. Yes, there was a time when the Tenebrous Woods were frightful, the stench of blood so pungent your palate was stained with a metallic taste for days upon leaving. In these very woods is where Wesley suckled off my neck, drank my blood like nectar to bolster his powers far beyond that which his Countenance lineage afforded him—before Demetri knighted him a Fem. It seems that over the past few years, identities have swapped out, alliances shifted, the landscape of the Factions is almost entirely unrecognizable. But Tenebrous remains unchanged, dank, dark, sallow with its charred evergreens, its deep velvet sky, the parched ground that thirsts for so much more than blood. And now it is mine.

Chloe and I land flat-footed among the thistles and briars, the slight stench of blood still rotting the air. The ground is dried and cracked, a desert terrain within this necrotic forest. Dark, twisted oaks, gnarled and burnt. The evergreens are dusted with soot, all of their vivacious color reduced to a somber shade of gray. There is no sun, no moon—not on this day, nothing but a strange darkness, that eerie glow just before night falls hard over the land. This world glows with plums and wines, even the light pays homage to the blood once shed on these grounds. The overgrown building behind us that once housed our Nephilim brothers and sisters now sits empty, collecting dust until the Viden Spectators can be detained once again. Wesley didn’t mind putting them in danger as long as they were outing the Nephilim people. As far as I see it, Wesley is the only one who should be imprisoned down here—I glare at the demon to my left—and perhaps Chloe, too.

I head over to one of the old hitching posts and find Ingram’s glowing notepad. Ingram Pendergast was left to plod around down here centuries ago—by the Counts, by my mother, the details all seem fuzzy and unimportant at the moment. He’s sort of the official keeper of the Tenebrous gate. He was Ezrina’s ex in another life, another time before he was brought here to be a keeper of the tunnels. He’s still lurking around the grounds somewhere, living it up in no-man’s-land. Nevertheless, I scoop up the glowing notebook as we head out of the forest.

“Let’s sit.” I point to the stone of sacrifice just past the skeletal woods. The stone shines like a lavender pearl in this strange universe, and I get straight to business of itemizing my covenant with Chloe on the glowing device. I take a moment to erect a shield over my thoughts—impenetrable to Chloe and any powers she might still be wielding.

“Finally.” Chloe lands next to me, her knee touching mine. There is a fire in her eyes, one that holds equal parts hope and vengeance. “I want the covenant initiated today. No more of this pussyfooting around.” A wry smile comes and goes. Sometimes you just need to cut a deal with the devil, and today is as good as any. “Bree told me all about your mother’s twisted venture. Who knew I had so much pull with her?” She examines her fingernails, but judging by that maniacal look on her face, I know she’s contemplating a Lizbeth Landon takedown just for the hell of it.

“You don’t. Money does. And as dumb luck would have it, vaginas really are the next big thing.” She’s raking in so much, Tad hasn’t lamented his lack of employment once. Even though Althorpe all but dumped him, he’s still managed to eek a decent living from the disability checks stemming from what he now refers to as his lucky burn, but like all Landon great prospects, that good time is coming to an end.

Chloe grunts out a laugh. “You should know. Your vagina was the next best thing as soon as you showed up junior year—so young and so tight, it even turned the head of inhuman faculty members.”

“Just the one.” I wag a finger at her as we share a quick laugh. “I’ll summon my mother, and we’ll do the covenant this afternoon. Why put off a good thing?” I drill her with my gaze. Chloe has always been a class act liar, but her eyes, they’re too feral to contain any secrets. Chloe’s eyes give her away before every single one of her bad intentions. But, at the moment, they look gleefully in line with her maniacal heart.

“Yes.” She draws a fist toward her chest in victory. “I’m going to break open one of those million dollar bottles of wine Wesley keeps molesting in the cellar. Of course, since he’s received his Ezrina-issued sex toy, he’s even refrained from that.”

“Did you ever find out who the girl is?”

“No.” Chloe looks just as frustrated as I do. “She’s some tramp who’s hot to trot with the idea, though. He says get in bed, and she asks how wide do you want my legs spread open. She’s a real tramp, this one. I don’t get it, though. With my ability to morph into the idiot, you’d think Wes would have been more than pleased with that. Why the body double?”

“You’re asking me?” I scoff at the thought that anyone could figure out Wesley. “But then, you are his bride. No offense, of course, but you’re, well, you’re you. If this other girl is as willing as you say she is, then she’s probably not mouthing off and giving him a hard time.”

“The only thing she’s giving him is a hard-on.”

“Disgusting. I mean, doesn’t she have family? A life? Who is this girl that just dropped out of the blue and let Ezrina rearrange her face?”

“Did you ask the hag?” Chloe has no respect for Ezrina, even though she utilizes her genius as much as the rest of us, not to mention her body. If it wasn’t for Ezrina’s misfortune, Chloe might have descended to the depths of hell quite literally.

“She’s not talking.”

“Good.” She sits up straight. “Because I don’t want to talk about Wesley’s skank either. Let’s get down to brass tacks, Skyla. The rules, if I remember correctly, were, I side with Celestra, fight the good fight for our people, and you let me live above ground once again.”

A half-smile rises to my lips. In typical Chloe fashion, she only reiterated half of what was spoken that night by the fire. I will never forget the pain, the anguish in my heart, and yet the startling resilience to carry on for my people. Putting Celestra—the Nephilim as a whole before me, was the only thing that got me through those miserable Gage-free agonizing days, outside of the boys that is.

“Yes.” I spin the glowing piece of equipment her way. “You are my equal in leadership in every way with the exception—you are my number two. You may not make a move without my authority, my approval. You are my—”

“Bitch.” She twirls her hand as if prompting me to get on with it. “Yada, yada— and I get to dwell among the living, on that desolate God-forsaken rock called Paragon, and my aversion to that God-awful bird will be forever revoked.”

My lips purse at the thought. “Not really. I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, Holden and his new bride happen to be running around that desolate rock in coats of flesh at the moment, which brings us to our next point.”

“The dawn of the dead,” she says it flat while folding her arms across her chest in defiance. Chloe isn’t a huge fan of the dead in general—but she sure is a huge fan of pushing people to that oxygen-deprived side. “Name it and it’s as good as done,” she strums the words out, bored, as if she were capable of pulling off anything. And, seeing that she’s desperate to get what she wants, I believe she is.

“I need all of the dead discovered. I have maps, locations of where I’ve shipped them. I need you alerting authorities. I don’t have the next fifty years to dwell on this. My mother and I went to Cost Club last week, and the feds have descended on that food court like pigeons. There’s no escaping them. I need Wesley’s project halted in its tracks. Once the feds collect enough specimens, they won’t bother coming after anyone with a crooked biomarker. Wes and all of his nefarious biological dealings can go straight to hell.”

“Done. I’d be thrilled to land every last rotten corpse in a cage by midnight if that’s what you’d like for me to do. I just need to go home, Skyla. I can’t live with that weasel in his dark, brooding hell any longer. My mother says she’ll take me back. I can have my childhood bed to rest in. I’m sure Brody will be more than happy to help me assimilate. Bree thinks I can take on a permanent position at West as the head cheer coach. Life will come full circle for me.”

And sadly, those are all the things she already has on some level, but I refrain from sharing that with her. Chloe knows it well. Chloe is already ten steps ahead of everybody else. Or at least she thinks so. And don’t even get me started on the fact she never once mentioned poor Tobie. October Edinger is essentially nobody’s daughter. I can’t quantify Wesley as a parent no matter how loving and nurturing he might be. Deep down, I wish he would abandon her the way Chloe has so we can evict that poor child from living in the hell of the Transfer—in the hell of the wicked influence Wes is sure to have on her. He’s branding her, burning his emblem of evil over her very soul. Each day she’s with him, she drifts further and further from sanity’s edge, and she hasn’t even hit her first birthday.

“That is the plan.” The heavy sky presses over us like a lid set to enclose a boiling pot, and for a second I can hardly breathe. This moment, right here, will change so many lives. So many mistakes can breed from this disease seated before me, but I know that all too well. That is my truth. Deep down, I realize this is a necessary evil. If there is even the slightest possibility of having a rogue Gage Oliver on my hands one day, I need to seal my enemies to my side. I can’t have them running and hiding. I can’t give them the upper hand—and ironically, silence and distance do exactly that. That was a principle I understood well on that horrible night when I saw with my own eyes my husband standing on a stone just like this one gifting himself to Demetri and his twisted cause. And in an irony only fate could provide, here I am nearly six months later on a stone just like that one with another demon, readying to launch myself in a covenant that seems wise in my own eyes. My own wisdom has been known to abandon me quickly, but as it were I still see the need to have the most dangerous knife in the drawer as a part of my arsenal.

“Do you love Celestra?” I hook my gaze into hers, and she flinches. Chloe squirms under the microscope of my scrutiny. For as much as she hungers to be the center of it all, she can’t handle the scorching heat that comes along with a psychological dissection.

“I do. And I will go to the ends of the earth proving this to you. We are taking back what is rightfully ours. You and I will never lie down for Wesley and his Bullshit Brigade as long as we have breath in our bodies. I may not like you, Messenger, but in this task, we are united. We are one, and I will do whatever it takes to destroy whatever, whoever, however many stand in our way. We were born for greater things than these.” Chloe reaches over and picks up my hands. “And for God’s sake, don’t worry, Skyla. I am not about to snatch the crown off your head. You remain the Faction leader, scream queen supreme, whatever the hell it is you’re calling yourself these days. I just want my life back and a chance to stick it to the bastards who keep controlling it.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “No use in putting it off then.” I tip my head back and visualize my mother in the heavenlies holding little Sage’s beautiful hand as they skirt the crystalline shorelines of paradise. “Mother?” I blink up at the sky. “You say you are always with me—ever-present in my time of need. And I am in need. I ask you once, come quickly. Chloe and I have business to tend to, and we need your presence to officiate the new bond we’re looking to undertake.”

Chloe drops my hand like a dead fish. “That’s it? No hocus-pocus? Just a please show up if you have the time? If that was my mother, I’d tell her to get her ass down here asap.”

“And that’s why you live in the Transfer and I live on Paragon.”

“Touché.” She scowls. “For now.”

“For now, indeed.”

“What’s this?” a cheerful voice calls from behind, and both Chloe and I turn around, stunned to find my mother, Candace Messenger herself, donning the cliché paradise couture, white silk robe, shiny golden sash to complete the celestial look. “A meeting of the minds and I wasn’t invited?” she bubbles with a trill of a laugh, and my stomach sours on cue. My mother is never timely when I need her. And she never bubbles about anything. My radar goes up because if I’ve learned anything about the woman who bore me it’s that I should very much watch my back around her.

“Oh hush, you.” She flicks her fingers my way. It’s clear my mind is an open highway for her curiosity to travel whenever the hell she feels like it. “What’s this bond we’re looking to undertake?”

Chloe and I stand as she joins us on the stone.

“A covenant.” My heart thumps wild. First, because I still can’t believe she showed so willingly, and secondly, because I’m about to enter into a binding covenant with the girl who has caused me so much heartache, the one who took Logan away from me.

My mother cuts me a quick look, sharp enough to slit my throat. “Yes, Chloe is responsible for killing my precious.” My mother glides right by his formal moniker and dives headfirst into adjectives when it comes to the fair-haired Oliver. Figures.

Chloe lifts a finger, her face full of false adulation. “And I am sorry about that. I do love Logan. You both know that.”

“It’s true,” my mother affirms as she lands an arm around Chloe’s shoulders, and I shudder right down to my core. “Now, what is it that has two Celestra sisters bonding over in Tenebrous? Come, come—I’ve a multitude of needs to meet this afternoon. So many destinies to alter.” Her eyes sharpen over mine, clear as a white-hot flame.

“Chloe and I would like to enter into a covenant together,” I say it plainly like placing an order for a short stack at the Gas Lab.

A quick flash of lightning flickers from above.

My mother’s affect flattens as if she didn’t see this coming, but I don’t buy that for a hot and holy minute. “Hold hands. Outline the terms.”

Chloe huffs in disbelief, “Just like that?”

“Don’t doubt me, daughter.” My mother is quick to cut her down with the lash of her tongue, but it’s the term of endearment she chose to give her that unnerves me.

I take up Chloe’s hands, and my mother shakes her head at the sight.

“Not like that.” She manually crosses both our hands until we’re conjoined in a fleshly figure eight. “Like this. Now outline the terms.” She looks to me, hard and stern. “Carefully, mind you.”

“Carefully.” I give Chloe’s hands a quick squeeze, fully aware she can read my every thought at this point. “Chloe Jessica Bishop, I, Skyla Laurel Oliver, enter into a holy covenant with you, on this day, in this hour, effective this very moment. These terms that I outline with you are permanent and binding.”

Chloe gives a solemn nod, and suddenly it feels as if we’re exchanging wedding vows, and sadly, this is tantamount to exactly that.

“You, Chloe, will be my right hand. You will do my bidding. What I decree will be so. I will take into account all of your thoughts, your wants, your dreams as far as Celestra and the Nephilim people are concerned. We are in unity for the advancement of our people. To serve, to protect, to guide with love is our chief resolution. There is nothing we will not consider when it comes to the well-being of our people. We are Celestra. You and I are as close to pure as there has ever been. We will act in one mind from this moment on to shield our race from those that wish to destroy it. There will be no day like today ever again when powers unite in the name of all that is holy and true. We will move swiftly and without regret to extinguish the actions and on occasion the very beings that stand in our way. Our people are in peril, and we will create a shield over them under the banner of our love.”

“Amen.” Chloe gives my mother a cheeky grin.

“And”— I tip my nose in the air, my eyes still locked over Chloe’s shallow pools of murky darkness—“you will not harm my family. You will not plot to harm nor carry out actions to harm my sons, Barron or Nathan, and you will not harm my husband, Gage Oliver. You will not harm Logan, Marshall, my earthly mother, her husband, my sisters, or anyone we hold near and dear—and that goes for pets as well. You shall not harm a hair on my head.” I bear into her with something just this side of hatred. “It will not even enter your mind. You will not harm the Celestra people or the Nephilim nor go against any of my ordinances. And if you do, the repercussions are uniquely mine alone, and whatever punishment I decree will be binding on earth as it is in heaven.”

Chloe averts her eyes to my mother before sneering my way. “That’s our Skyla, always sucking all the fun out of everything.” She gives my hand a violent tug. “Yes, my God, yes, Skyla. That’s why I’m here. I will be your subordinate, your subservient. I will be the sickly worm that crawled under a rock, and you will be the sun, warming me, welcoming me back to life. And, yes, I understand fully that your interest in me is our unified love for our people—Celestra first, then the Nephilim in turn. I am against everything Wesley Bastard Edinger stands for. May his destruction, his grotesque misuse of his powers fall squarely over his rotten head. I am not interested in moving forward the agenda of my husband, but of my sister’s—that would be you, Skyla.” That mean shiver returns once again, shaking my vertebrae like fingers scaling the keys on a piano. “We will work together to restore all that Celestra has lost, to secure the lot of our people so they no longer live in fear of the Counts or the Barricade, or any nefarious dealings the Fems might have instore. They have sided with the Counts, but Celestra has sided with the Sectors. Though the intimate details of their battles are not ours to have, we understand our people’s rise to power coincides with theirs, and therefore, we are inseparable and will bolster the Sectors’ needs along with our own. It is under the Master’s love and His banner that we stand, and both you and I, Skyla, understand that He gifts us the knowledge, the wisdom, the power to stand in the presence of our enemies. We will be swift with retribution to whomever stands in our way, and I will not dream of harming a hair on the head of those you love.” Her left eye comes shy of winking as if those words pained her on some level. “And if I do—you, Skyla Laurel Messenger—Oliver—may instate the punishment you see fit. From this moment on, I am your right hand—just a little lower than your equal. All of my thoughts, my ways, my every move will be yours to monitor. I am a living sacrifice, yours to utilize as you please.” Her fingers press into mine, hard, bone over bone. “Skyla—” She steps in, her breathing erratic. There’s a pleading, a fear in her eyes that I have seen only once before, and that was the day my mother doled out her fate and sent her to the Transfer. “I need you to promise you won’t harm me—that this isn’t some setup to send me to a worse fate than the one that I’m escaping. I need to know that you mean what you say and that your word is binding and true. In order for us to be successful, I need to be assured that we are truly on the same team.” She tips her chin up, those ebony eyes falling hard over mine. “Woe to the hour you turn on me, Skyla. There will be a darkness in your life like never before or after it. I will be swift with my punishment, for my spirit is a wildfire—this slash-and-burn heart of mine is primal, and though intrusive to many, it is one I cannot control. My rage is the brightest kind of flame. It cannot be tempered. Even I cannot douse the fire. My anger, my hatred has always stemmed from hurt, from pain, from being denied what was rightfully mine. I have always believed you took my place, and yet I am yielding all of my primal tendencies to act against you so that I may stand with you, shoulder to shoulder. Together we can, and, we will, rule the world. Assure me of my safety before we proceed.”

I swallow hard. “Fine. Mother, search my heart and hers, and assure us both we are true and right with our intentions.”

My mother steps forward and places a warm hand over my forehead and the other on Chloe’s as if reading a fever. Her hair lights up, each follicle its own filament of lavender, blue, pink, and the palest shade of yellow. My mother is a vision with her fiber optic appeal, and my body buzzes with delight with those feel-good vibratronics that pour out of her.

She pulls her hands back and straightens. “It is as the two of you suggest. Any further stipulations?”

“Yes.” I offer a peaceable smile to the girl who was once a sworn enemy, the killer of my father, my husband. “You can live on Paragon as we agreed. But I have the full power to send you back to the Transfer, or worse. From this moment on, your morphing abilities will be disabled. Take a moment to mold yourself in the exact likeness you will live out your days.” A thought comes to me. “And, also, on your behalf, I will have full access to Tobie.”

Chloe flinches. “You want the brat? Wesley won’t have it.”

“That’s why I want you to fight for your rights with the girl. When it’s your time with her, she will be with me. I will be the mother to her that you refuse to be.”

“Good grief.” She grunts as if the idea made her physically ill.

“I will love October Edinger as if she were my own.” Because I have to. The only thing more dangerous than your enemy is your enemy’s child.

Chloe belts out a bubbling laugh. “Yes, Messenger. Have at her. She can swing off your tits all day while she suckles away. I don’t give a flying rip. Hell, you can let Wes swing off the other nipple. I couldn’t care less about the wandering idiot.”

“Perfect.” I give a little curtsey. “And just to be clear, my husband is off-limits to you. Gage Oliver is mine. He is the crown of life I wear on my head, our children the jewels of God pressed into the center. My family is sacred, an unapproachable throne that you may never touch.”

“We’ve covered this.” Her features harden as if her patience were wearing thin. “And I’ve already agreed.”

“Wonderful. To our newfound partnership. Here’s to the preservation and prosperity of our people.”

My mother offers up a dull applause. “Great. Now let’s move on with our day.” She turns as if to hop off the stone, and I pull her back by the silk sleeve of her winter white robe.

“Whoa, so that’s it? You’re not going to say a few words? No thunder—no ring of lightning?”

She rolls her eyes as she looks to Chloe. “That’s our Skyla, always a flair for the dramatic.” I’m not liking my mother and Chloe unified on anything, least of all not when it comes to bashing me so openly.

Chloe gives a sly smile. “But then, we’ve always thought so, haven’t we?”

My radar sounds its internal alarm. Red fucking alert.

“That’s right.” My mother chortles. “We have, haven’t we?”

Chloe and my mother have been spending time together? Discussing me of all people? Holy hell. Why do I suddenly feel masterfully manipulated? At this point, I have no clue who is more dangerous between the two of them.

My mother’s hands fall over each of our foreheads once again. “Skyla and Chloe, you are now true sisters in every way. May it be as you have committed, all of your sentiments binding on earth as it is in heaven.” She offers an exasperated sigh. “How’s that for a few words?”

Just as I’m about to open my mouth, a horrible crackle of thunder deafens us as a nest of lightning, purple and white, dazzles from up above. A coven of bats flies to the sky, screaming as the thunder roars over Tenebrous, and the earth begins to shake. Then just as quick as it came, it dissipates, back to the calm, the disturbingly eerie silence that Tenebrous has to offer.

A mirror appears on the stone, full-length, encased in an intricate gold frame, and I immediately recognize it as a twin to the haunted speculum in Marshall’s home.

“Find the features you like best.” My mother nods to Chloe as she leads me off the stone and near the blackened woods.

“Anything else I can do for you, my love?” Her eyes settle over mine, harsh like a punishment, as she doesn’t bother to disguise the sarcasm in her voice.

“I don’t want the dead to suffer.” Casey and the countless number of the dead that were resurrected come to mind. “No lingering deaths. I need this to move fast. I can feel Wesley nipping at my heels. The government is everywhere. They are hungry. They want retribution for those agents that were killed. We need to feed the federal beast before Wes hands my people over in droves.”

“I agree. Don’t waste any time. Act quickly to ensure the dead are captured. That number should satisfy them and stretch their facilities to capacity. A mass death would look horrible for the institution, and if you find the right group to protest government testing on these visitors, you might stall their efforts to harm your people for decades to come.” She gives a self-satisfied smile. “As for the manner in which their lives are extinguished—you should have thought that through before you deployed them,” she hisses, her eyes slit with fury as she looks to Chloe. “You should have thought a lot of things through. You gave her everything she already has along with the keys to the kingdom.”

“Yes. But now she has to answer to me. I have the keys. If Chloe wants to take the car for a spin, she needs to hotwire it.” I scowl over at the demon while she preens at her own reflection. “If you can’t kill a cockroach, put the damn thing on a leash and make it your pet.”

“Is that what you’re doing with Gage?”

“Mother!” I stagger back a moment. “Your disdain for the love of my life never fails to freshly offend me. He is the father of my children.”

She smacks her lips with boredom. “Is that all it takes to garner your devotion—children?”

“I’m ready!” Chloe calls from the stone, and both my mother and I gasp at the sight of her. Chloe has always been a stunner, but this newly polished, perfectly sublime version is a tour de force of beauty. Her long dark hair is thicker, glossier with just the right amount of waves to give it life and a body of its own. But it’s her face that captivates. Yes, she is still very much herself, identifiable in every way, but you can tell by those almond eyes, the straight nose, those cheeks that touch heaven, and those knockoff Betty Boop lips that Chloe Bishop will have both the living and the dead turning heads just to steal a glance.

“Wow, Chloe”—I can’t help but gawk at the gorgeous sight—“if your husband could see you now.”

My mother scoffs. “What is this obsession you have with husbands, Skyla?” Her chest bucks as she says the word husbands as if she were about to hurl at the concept. “They’re mere men, Skyla. Not to mention the fact they require so much attention.”

Chloe grunts as if she could relate. “Feed me. Fuck me.”

A round of lightning flickers from above at the mention of an expletive in my mother’s presence. “Nevertheless”—she shrugs as if Chloe were right—“they are slaves to the flesh.”

Chloe bounces up beside her. “There is no greater truth. It’s as if all they ever think about is filling an orifice—theirs, ours, it matters not. Never mind the horny pigs.” She pats her hair down while preening to my mother. “How did I do?”

“Well done.” My mother lifts a hand, and the speculum evaporates to nothing. “Now before I go”—she turns to the woods—“please join us, Sage. Your time has come.”

“Sage? My God”— my entire person swoons with delight—“will I get my daughter back?”

“Technically speaking, you most certainly will.” My mother curls her fingers until Sage steps out of the shadows, her tiny frame, her long dark hair, those deep-welled dimples are an exact representation of her father, albeit at about five-years-old. But it’s not Sage that has my attention for once. In her tiny arms is an equally adorable being, a baby—perhaps just a little older than the twins, blonde curly hair, eyes that glow large and bright a unique shade—the lightest aquamarine you have ever seen with lashes that look gloriously thick and rich. She’s wrapped in a thin pink robe, same gold sash as my mother and Sage, albeit miniature, and therefore, outlandishly adorable. I’ve never seen a baby girl so preciously stunning, with the exception of Sage, of course, and, in truth, I’ve never seen Sage at that age or stage.

“Who is this visitor?” I step forward, and Chloe joins us as we lean in and gawk at her tiny perfect glory.

Sage picks up the baby’s chunky foot, clamps her teeth hard over its tiny little toes, and the baby lets out an ear-piercing cry.

“Sage!” I bat her hand away, and the baby manages to pluck her pink little foot free, her large eyes watery with tears, her perfect bow tie lips tugging down at the sides. The baby reaches for me, and I lean in to take her, but Sage is quick to twist her from my grasp.

Sage growls at both Chloe and me. “She likes it when I do that.” She stuffs the tiny foot into her mouth again and gives another violent chomp.

“She does not!” I’m quick to snatch the screaming child away, and in a moment, a calm like never before falls over me. It’s as if I’ve waited my entire life to hold this precious little being.

“Ma Ma!” The tiny blonde beauty squirms as a smile comes to her ruby lips and she laughs and claps, and I can’t help but laugh along with her. Rows of tiny teeth are exposed, just a few here and there, but they shine like pearly seeds.

“She just called me Ma Ma!” I marvel at the tiny chubby cheeked angel. There’s something startlingly familiar about her—and strangely enough, intimately and deeply, I love her as if she were my own. “She’s a doll. Who is she?” I glance to my mother who glows with an ethereal light as if she had suddenly swallowed the sun. She’s grinning from ear-to-ear, and suddenly I’m worried for everyone in Tenebrous. “Mother? I demand an answer.”

“Come, child.” My mother takes up Sage by the hand before reverting her attention to me. “You said all it would take to garner your devotion of a man is to have his child.” Her eyes brighten a dazzling shade of sunshine as if she could no longer contain her joy. “And now you have it—her as it were. I’ve gone to the future and procured you a little pink gift.”

My heart ratchets up into my throat because I’m afraid I know exactly who this little angel is. This child belongs to Logan—and me. “Why are you doing this?”

“So you’ll fall in love with her—and you have, instantly. So you’ll forget all about that Gage and let him sink to the bottom of the sea.”

That Gage?

“I’m not letting Gage sink to the bottom of some heartless sea.”

“You’re not exactly giving her back to me either.” She steps in close, but I can’t take my eyes off this magical being, so beautiful and bright. “Perhaps you should keep her a while. Would you like to know her name?”

“No!” She can’t have a name. She can’t exist. My heart breaks because everything in me wants to keep her. I would never want to blink her out of existence. Logan and I can have an affair—a brief, brief affair. Dear God, what am I saying?

“What are you saying, indeed?” My mother glares at me after having the audacity to listen in on my private thoughts. “You realize how the Master feels about adultery.”

“And you realize how He feels about divorce.”

“That won’t be an issue. Give my love to Logan.” She lifts a hand, and a spray of miniature stars ensconces both her and Sage as they dissipate to nothing.

Sage glares at me as she evaporates to nothing. The weight of her disdain for me sends a violent shiver through me. It’s as if I were her enemy. She sneers at my mother. “She loves her more than me! I hate that little pink pig.”

“No!” I wail with the perfect tiny being cooing up at me with a smile. “I can’t have another baby. Tad is going to kill me.”

Chloe steps in and ogles the tiny babe in my arms. “Oh my shit, Messenger. This is your kid—and Logan Oliver is the father. My, my, don’t you have the happy little ovaries. I’m sure Gage will be thrilled. In fact, I don’t think Tad will be the only one who’ll entertain a homicide.” She scowls as if I’ve really screwed up this time, and I might have. “Now get me island side. There’s an entire bitchy little clique of dead girls I would relish to turn in by evening. I won’t let you down, Messenger. Just you wait and see. Together we will conquer the world.”

“It’s not the world I want.” The sweet little angel in my arms pulls my hair and squeals with delight, melting my soul and my heart in the process. Oh my God, I am in love, swimming so deep and wide I never want to get out of the angelic waters. And giving her back to my mother is the last thing I want to do. “I just want my people to be safe—my marriage to work.”

“You’re on your own with Gage.” That darkness in Chloe’s eyes returns as she sinks her gaze into mine. “For now.”

I take up Chloe’s hand as Tenebrous is traded for the woods behind Marshall’s estate.

I know what Chloe meant. It wasn’t the blatant threat I would have once assumed it to be. It was in reference to Demetri, to his constant pull on my husband. I’ve got news for that Fem rat. In this tug-of-war for Gage Oliver’s soul, I win. Hands down. All fucking day long.

The baby in my arms chortles as if agreeing with me, and she warms my heart all over again.

The woods reappear with each evergreen a shade more vibrant than the next. Even the monotone hues of Paragon are a welcome sight in comparison to Tenebrous.

Chloe staggers a moment as do I, weighted with the tiny blonde bundle of joy who happily squirms before knitting her fingers in my hair.

“Ma Ma!” she cries, jubilant and loud, and my stomach tangles in knots.

“You have fun with that.” Chloe smirks at the baby. “I’ll text you and let you know how many I trap. I can spot the G-men a mile away, so obvious with their sunglasses and pressed collared shirts.” She plucks a tube of lipstick from her pocket and applies the bright red caustic hue. “If they’re lucky, I might even fuck them.” The baby in my arm flinches at the expletive. “Aww.” Chloe leans in, and the baby retracts, burying her face in my neck, and it feels like heaven. “She’s just as sensitive as her ma. I’ll catch up with you later, sis. I want to hear all about the fireworks. I’m guessing poor Gage won’t be so enthused to find out he’s an uncle.” She takes off for the street and holds up her middle finger. “Relax, it’s in love.”

“In love, my foot. Speaking of which.” I pull up the babe’s tiny chunky toes and rub my thumb over the impression of Sage’s teeth. The baby looks up at me and blinks into her own innocence, so heartbreakingly precious, so startlingly beautiful, my heart comes to a complete stop. Tears come to my eyes. Here she is, the sweet angel Logan and I would have made with all of our love. I see him there in the bridge of her nose, the shape of her lips. She has his strong jaw and four little teeth, top and bottom, and I can’t help but note her gums look swollen.

“Ma Ma!” She smacks me in the chest and picks up the protective hedge and shoves the pendant right into her mouth. She spits it out and goes for the mirrored heart that Logan—her father, gave me instead and suckles on it as if it had the power to soothe her. She lays her tiny body against mine, solid and warm, her heart beating erratic against mine and lets out a ragged sigh.

“Oh my dear God, I love you. I do.” I pepper the top of her head with kisses. “But how is this ever going to work?” I glare at the blank gray sky with a brewing anger. “This is not funny, Mother. You seriously lack a proper sense of humor.”

A bout of girlish laughter comes from my left, down by the ravine, and I hesitate a moment before wandering over. The laughter ensues, and before long it’s joined by the growl of a man. He’s saying something to her, and their murmurs grow increasingly sexual in nature along with those hearty, heady, I need you right now groans of passion.

The baby falls into a perfect slumber over my chest as I hide behind a tree. Who the hell would be hiding on Marshall’s property? Randy no less? Oh my God. What if Marshall is getting it on with one of his seventeenth-century hussies instead of watching the boys? The thought alone sends me charging out of my hiding place and straight into—

“Mia?”

Standing before me is a rumple haired, rumple clothed Mia and that rat Gabriel Armistead with his pants unzipped, his junk hanging from his boxers.

“Oh my God!” I howl and spin as if I just had my eye poked out. “Mia!” I shout so loud the baby jerks and screams without warning. “Oh no!” I’m quick to jostle her, but her cries only intensify.

The boy strides past me as if nothing ever happened, and Mia hops in front of me, red-faced and pissed.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” She pokes me hard in the chest, her own shirt still unbuttoned, exposing a black lace bra, and, well, a rather nice set of boobs. Not really fair since I had to have twins to achieve that look myself. When did Mia get tits, and why the hell do they look better than mine?

“Me? What’s gotten into you? That’s not even your boyfriend.”

“He is on Fridays!” she riots back.

I blink into this younger, far more fragile-minded version of me. “Of course, how stupid of me.” The baby claws at my chest. I help her find the mirrored heart, and she’s right back to suckling on it, her heated flesh has the robe melting to her skin like wet paper. “What is this Friday business?” I shake my head violently. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Whatever it is, knock it off. You just can’t have two men in your life, Mia. That would make you—”

“Just like you.” Her brows rise as she gets that smart-aleck look on her face. Then just like that, her focus shifts to the babe in my arms, and her affect melts on cue. “Oh my God. Who is this princess, and can I keep her?”

My heart breaks into a million pieces because I don’t have it in me to lie to Mia. We’re supposed to be growing closer, not dividing ourselves with a chasm of lies and part-time boyfriends.

“This is your niece.” My voice breaks as the tears start to flow. “She’s my”—my entire existence shakes to the core—“my daughter.” I give a rambling explanation of what just happened, and Mia wraps her arms around me long and hard.

“Oh, Skyla. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” She pulls back, her own eyes red with tears. “I promise I won’t tell.” She picks up the little angel’s hand and brings it to her lips. The baby does a jumping jack filled with joy and gives a hearty laugh as she plays with Mia’s lips. “She’s so happy.” She shakes her head. “Skyla, I know you love Gage, but maybe you can just skip that whole baby making part and keep her? I don’t think I could bear to lose her. Plus, I want you to have a girl so I can buy all those cute dresses. And if she stays, you can make all of my pink dreams come true.”

“I’m afraid not. I’m guessing she’s on loan.” My heart wrenches just thinking about it. “Look, Marshall has the boys. If I give you the keys to the minivan, would you take them to Emma’s? I’m sure she’ll watch them for me. I don’t have a car seat for the baby, and to be honest, I’m not ready to juggle three just yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to the smartest girl I know.”

“Mom?”

I make a face at my sister without meaning to. “Laken Stewart—Flanders.” She chose Coop over Wes. That might just qualify her as the smartest person on the planet—although, technically, that was a no-brainer.

Mia gives the two of us a quick kiss before walking backward toward the house. “Don’t you dare give her away. I licked her. She’s mine! I swear to you, I’ll keep her!” She giggles as she runs off. But I stagger forward, numb with shock, as I hold fast to baby number three—or four as it were.

I text Laken, and she texts right back that she’s at the Gas Lab, so I teleport right over. Only I’m low on juice, correction, permanently running out of fuel, and I make it as far as West and hoof it the rest of the way with my new babe tucked safe in my arms.

After a long, exhausting jaunt, I finally hit the Gas Lab, winded, stunned by how a baby can feel like a one hundred pound lead weight. And it only reminds me that in a few short months I won’t be able to hold both of the boys the way I do now. The boys! My God, they have a sister—at least one on earth at the moment. My heart ratchets up in a panic, and suddenly the fact I entered into a binding covenant with Chloe Bishop is the least startling event that’s taken place this afternoon.

Just as I’m about to step inside, a surly looking dude in a heavy wool coat glares at me as if I’ve just stolen his lunch money, and I instinctively hold the baby a little bit tighter.

“I know you.” He steps in, and I take a full step back. “You’re what’s-his-face’s wife.” His voice rises a notch. “You tell that idiot husband of yours the Videns have one serious fucking bone to pick with him.” He grimaces at the baby a moment. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.” He stalks off, and I let out a breath of relief, filling the air with a stiff white plume, and the baby flaps her arms as though she was happy as can be.

“That mean man just threatened your daddy—um, uncle.” My heart breaks just thinking about the title my husband would play in her life.

I walk in and spot Laken near the back, and I make a beeline over only to see Coop sitting there along with—

“Logan,” I hiss his name under my breath, and he stands to greet me along with Laken and Coop.

“Skyla.” He grins at the bouncing baby in my arms who’s suddenly flapping her arms as if she’s about to morph into a dove and fly right into her daddy’s arms. “It looks like you grabbed the wrong baby.” He holds a finger out and she curls her tiny hand around it, and I melt on cue. Logan’s eyes widen as he takes her in. I can see her wrapping herself around his heart just as easily as she did his finger. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever had my breath taken away by anyone but you. Who is this amazing beauty?” His voice is low and tender, the exact tone fathers reserve for the daughters they adore.

“Da Da!” She stretches her arms for him, and I shoot a panicked look to Laken.

Laken steps in, her own eyes just as wide. “Wow. She’s so pretty!”

Coop wraps his finger around one of her blonde curls a moment. “Did she just say Da Da as in Daddy?”

“Um.” I look to Logan and shrug. “I guess she did.”

“You did?” Logan leans in and presses a quiet laugh through that magnificent grin of his, but he never breaks his gaze from the girl. “Who’s your daddy? Huh? Who’s your daddy?”

A breath hitches in my throat. “You are.”

Why waste a moment of fun under the nonexistent Paragon sun?

All three pairs of eyes lock over mine.

“What did you say?” Logan’s face piques with color as if he understood perfectly.

“My mother sort of dropped her off.” I’m quick to point to the ceiling in the event there was any confusion about which mother would do such a thing. “Leave it to her to take away the element of surprise.” My shoulders bounce once again. “Surprise! You have a girl. We have a girl.”

“You have a daughter?” Laken gasps because, let’s face it, things couldn’t get any more gasp-worthy.

Coop leans into my line of vision. “With Logan?”

“Well—” Honestly, I’m at a loss for words. The baby struggles to reach Logan’s neck so I carefully place her in her father’s arms.

“Oh God,” he whispers as he takes her from me, stiff at first before he molds his body to hers. His eyes close, and he lands a loving kiss over the top of her head and lingers. “I love you,” he whispers. And those, right there, are the sweetest words Logan Oliver says to his precious little girl in this, the hour of their meeting. It’s all moving so fast, at such dizzying speeds, and yet I demand to record every sweet moment in my memory, etching this portrait of the two of them over my heart like the treasure it is.

“Skyla”—Laken shakes her head—“how? Why? How long? What will happen next?”

“I was sort of hoping you’d have those answers for me. That’s exactly why I hunted you down.”

“Skyla?” the high-pitched, happy-to-see-me voice of my mother bellows from behind, and I freeze. Not the heavenly body that birthed me, but the far more practical earthly body that reared me.

I turn slowly, only to find she’s already diving past me and playing with the baby’s chubby little feet.

“Oh my God! What a beautiful baby! Look at this face! Why, that’s the face of an angel.”

Tad pops up and grunts at the sight. “Don’t tell me she’s added another one to the collection. See this, Lizbeth? She’s scooping up strays off the street just like I predicted. Well, too bad. There’s no room at the inn. Load up her diaper bag and send the kid packing. We’re at capacity with rug runts.”

Mom swats him over the shoulder. “Oh, wow. Those eyes! They’re so pale with a blue heart with little freckles in them—and so light and clear, and they’re a sweet water blue. Why, they’re tourmaline. But that face! I’ve never seen anything like her. No offense to Misty or Ember, but this one looks like an angel that fell right out of heaven. What’s her name?” She looks to Logan as do the rest of us.

“Name?” He ticks his head my way before stealing a kiss off her cheek, and I melt all over again. This right here is a moment the two of us should be having in private, not at the Gas Lab—for sure not in front of my gawking baby hungry mother.

“Oh, I just have to hold her.” She’s quick to pry her from Logan’s arms. “My sweet Lord! You are just too precious to live! You must really be heaven-sent.”

The baby giggles up a storm, her voice light and sweet with a trace of the boys’ husky nature, and my heart wrenches because, well, she really was heaven-sent.

“Her name?” Mom nods as if ushering along the conversation.

“Actually—” I’m pretty sure child services will intervene if I don’t come up with a good explanation. I turn slightly and note a man at the counter openly staring in this direction. He’s got a pair of dark sunglasses sitting on the top of his head, and he’s wearing the requisite pressed buttoned-down shirt. Crap. I’ll be damned if he’s taking my baby back to D.C. to poke and prod her with needles. “She’s Laken’s niece. Her name is Angel.” I grimace at my friend who’s suddenly at a loss for words.

“Right.” She shrugs. “Only my sister Jen is out of town, and well, Skyla and Logan said they’d help me watch her.” Her dark brows point down into a hard V, letting me know she’s more than unhappy to be dragged into this.

“Angel.” My mother bounces the happy little babe in her arms. “It sure is fitting. If you ever need a sitter, I’d be thrilled to lend a helping hand.”

“That would be great.” Laken nods, scooping up her bag while Tad scoffs himself into an early grave. “Because I just so happen to be on my way to my last final.” She offers me a quick hug. “God help you, Skyla, because I sure can’t,” she whispers, pulling back. “I’ll call you.”

“Great.” I wave as she and a hesitant Coop head for the door.

Tad squawks like a bird who just had its beak chopped off. “See that? They just stuck you with the kid! Dump the little river rat, Lizbeth, before these two take off as well!”

Logan reaches over and takes our little angel back into his arms. “That won’t happen on my watch.”

“Oh”—Mom clasps onto my wrist—“just so you know, we’ll be back in the house tonight. It’s all wrapped up. Not a living thing survived. I was assured those pumps released enough toxins to destroy the nervous system of every living creature within those walls. Feel free to come home tonight with the boys. Demetri sent a crew to wash every bit of clothing and bedding. Can you imagine? He’s instructed them to scrub the carpets and dry clean the drapes. He’s such a gentleman.”

“That’s because he’s relatively sane and understands the fact that nerve gas and infants don’t mesh well together. I’ll be at Whitehorse at least another night.” Or twelve.

The baby bounces against Logan’s chest, her beautiful eyes still latched onto my mother’s. “Mee-Maw!”

“Oh my God!” Mom staggers backward as if someone just pumped a bullet into her chest. “It’s like she knows who I am!”

“That’s it.” Tad yanks my mother clear across the restaurant until they come upon an empty table. “No job and no home equals no more stealing other people’s babies!”

Mom turns around and mouths, “I love her!”

“Great.” I lean against Logan, and the baby tries her best to rip my lips right off my face. Her happy limbs all twitch with glee at once. She’s so happy it’s infectious, and I can’t help but smile. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

“For what?” He runs his finger over the outline of her perfect features. “You’ve just made me the happiest man on the planet. This is the best day of my new life.”

“Great.” I whimper once again. “I’ve got a car seat you can borrow back at the house, and Emma is all set up to take on a baby or two. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Skyla”—he ticks his head back a notch, inspecting me—“you wouldn’t leave her.”

Just like that, all of the anxiety, the nervous energy that’s been storming inside me up and disappears. “No. I’m afraid I can’t.”

His eyes meet with mine, and he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Emma just invited me to dinner. She says the boys are there, and Gage is already on his way. We’ll tell them together.” He pulls me in, and the baby squirms with delight, cooing and laughing, shouting Ma Ma, Da Da over and over again as if it were her favorite song. Here we are a family. We’ve always been one. “Are we really going to call her Angel?”

“I think we should for now.” I bounce my finger over her tiny perfect nose, and she takes it by force into her mouth and begins to suckle off it. She’s hungry, and I can feel my breasts swelling to have her. Tears come as I try to contain my emotions. She’s so perfect, so beautiful, so in the wrong frame of time it makes both my head and my heart want to explode. “Maybe one day”—my voice breaks—“if…” But I can’t finish the sentence. For me to have a baby with Logan would be treason to my marriage with Gage, and I’m fighting tooth and nail to keep him. I know my mother. She’s fighting tooth and nail for me to lose him. As much as I want to call what she’s done a despicable act, I can’t find it in me to do so. This is one of her greatest gifts to me. “Maybe we can bypass all of those laws of biology and just keep her?” My hearts soars at the prospect.

A crackle of lightning goes off outside, and the lights dim enough for the patrons to let out an unsettled ooh before life resumes as normal. Only for Logan and me—Gage, too—normal is something we will most likely never experience.

Emma answers the door winded as if she were the one with earth-shattering news, and I can’t help but scowl at her a little. She is trouble. Kate said so herself—although, Kate seems hesitant to extrapolate on the idea. She did mention something about holding off until it was her time to go and then she would spill the troublesome beans. Just what kind of a witch is Emma that she should sponsor so much fear in Kate?

Her eyes grow wild as she examines Logan and me, baby Angel tucked in my arms and happily drooling over my shoulder. Logan and I drove to Devil’s Peak. He happened to have two sets of car seats strapped into the back of the Mustang in the event he needed to pick up the twins. Demetri gifted us so many sets of those luxury baby confinement units I peppered everyone’s car with the devices that I could. And, of course, Angel snuggled up in one like an old pro. We watched the waves breaking out in the distance, gray and lonely, as if they were hungry for the shoreline they could only dream of reaching. It was that way for Logan and me right up until this afternoon when my mother brought the cutest little shoreline to us instead. We didn’t say anything at Devil’s Peak. Logan and I just stared out into the world as if we were aliens thrust on a foreign planet. There’s just too much to wade through at the moment. I don’t think if a thousand years went by that we could process it all.

“It looks as if you’ve brought a guest.” Emma bounces on her heels, her eyes slit with suspicion. “I’d set another plate at the table, but she looks a bit young to nosh on prime rib. Come in. She’ll catch her death out there. My God, she’s not even wearing a sweater. Her bare arms must be freezing!” And just like that, I feel like the world’s worst mother.

I glance to Logan as we make our way inside. Technically, to catch your death you’d have to be born.

“Ellis and Giselle just got here themselves. They’re in the living room with the boys. I’d better get back to the kitchen to help Barron slice the roast. Who does this little one belong to, anyway?” She picks up the baby’s hand and gives her a gentle shake. Angel opens a lazy eye and shuts it once she sees it’s just Emma.

“She’s mine,” I say it candid yet cheesy, and Emma laughs in my face before taking off. I look to Logan and smile. “Who knew the truth could be so freeing?”

We head into the living room to find Ellis and Giselle lost in a Disney animated feature, each with a sleeping boy in their arms, and both my heart and boobs ache at the sight of them. Ellis and Giselle hardly notice at all when Logan and I sit on the opposite sofa.

The baby squirms to life and nuzzles her head in my chest.

“Do you think she’s hungry?” Logan penetrates me with those citrine-colored eyes, and we share an intimate moment that borders on sexual. Logan Oliver has never looked so handsome as he does when inquiring on the nutritional needs of his sweet baby girl.

Just as I’m about to process the thought of what and how to feed her, Angel lifts my shirt and ducks underneath, yanks down my bra, and gets to work like a nipple-seasoned pro.

“I guess that answers the question.”

Logan leans in, his eyes contently set to mine. “I love you, Skyla. I know this isn’t the way things were supposed to be. I know that this beautiful child should probably never exist because I love you and Gage together.” His lips depress into a hard frown as he struggles to hold it together. “But I love her. I would die for her, just like I would you and the boys. And now we have a very certain problem on our hands.”

My lips part as words struggle to come out, but that warm sensation of the baby, this baby, Logan’s baby, suckling off my body is intense in nature—commanding as her tiny teeth bite into me. And just like that, I feel the same way he does. This baby is ours. She must exist. She does. My mother sure knows how to throw a perfect wrench into my life and into my marriage. But once again, she’s underestimated the love I have for my husband. She’s underestimated me entirely.

I lean in, determined he hears me as I ready to pour out my heart. “This child isn’t going anywhere. I’m not giving her back.”

Logan’s eyes sparkle with tears as he gives a single sober nod. “Then we will fight to keep her.”

I reach over and take up his hand. “She’s home. Our little girl is here to stay.”

A shadow darkens the doorway, and we look up to find a strapping Gage Oliver with an ear-to-ear grin. “All my favorite people under one roof.” He swoops in and lands a tender kiss to my lips before kneeling in front of me, his cologne warming me with his love. He lifts my shirt, and his eyes grow wide a moment before he glances up.

“Who is this?” All of the joy drains from his face as a morbid curiosity takes over.

He looks from Logan to me, and neither of us volunteers a single word.

It’s not who she is that I’m afraid to divulge.

It’s what she has the power to do—or undo.