There are moments trapped in silence such as this one when you blatantly realize that your life is about to change. Skyla and Logan open and close their mouths like dysfunctional marionettes, and neither seems to have an answer to the very simple question at hand. Who is this little girl feasting off my wife’s tit? It seems black and white, nothing too abstract. But I have the feeling life is about to get about as abstract as the laws of the universe will allow.

“I can explain.” Skyla shrugs as tears come to her eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” Mom shouts, and both boys startle to life with a hacking cry. “I’m so sorry!” she whispers, but it’s too late for that. Even the child at Skyla’s breast kicks away as if the sound of my mother’s voice grated on her. The little thing stretches Skyla’s nipple out an inch before coming up for air. She looks right at me as her milk-lined smile expands from ear-to-ear, and I’d swear on all that is holy I’ve seen that grin somewhere before.

“Hey there, pretty girl.” I frown up at Skyla and Logan for no good reason before getting up.

I head over and take Barron from Ellis while Giselle trots Nathan around the room to calm him down.

“So, how were finals?” Skyla pops up next to me while the baby resting on her shoulder points to Barron and giggles up a storm as if she were in love with him. Both Nathan and Barron will be lady-killers. I’ve already surmised that, and not just because they’re my replicas. But this little beauty seems smitten and mindfully playful of the handsome boy before her as if she already knows him on some level.

“It went well. There was just one today. I’m all done for the year.” Another year at Host under my belt and I couldn’t be happier.

“Nice.” She repositions herself so the little girl can see Barron better as her laughter hits ear-piercing octaves. It’s cute, though—reminds me of an exotic parakeet with her crystal-shattering crescendos.

“Looks like Barron boy has a little girlfriend.”

The smile dissipates from Skyla’s face as if the thought offended her.

“Skyla”—I whisper as I lead us to the corner—“who is she?” I spot Logan narrowing his eyes over at me before he heads this way. “What’s going on? It’s me. We’re done with secrets, right?” My stomach cinches as if to call myself out on the lie.

“Yes.” She looks to Logan, and her brows peak as if she’s about to cry. “God, yes. This is silly actually.” Her lips quiver, and it’s becoming obvious whatever this is, it’s anything but silly.

A million insane thoughts sail through my mind and the most ridiculous of them catches. “Is this—did you resurrect her?”

“No.” She shields the baby’s head as if I had just cast a pox on her. “I saw my mother today.” She glances at the ceiling, and immediately I realize who she’s talking about.

“Shit,” I hiss without meaning to. Candace Messenger has had it out for me since before my conception. Whatever the hell Skyla is afraid to tell me can’t be good. “What does this precious baby girl have to do with your mother? She’s not your mother, is she?” I twirl a blonde lock of hair around my finger, and the tiny thing gives a hearty laugh, her marbled aqua eyes set on my own. I can’t help but smile back. Everything about her is the embodiment of joy and it’s contagious.

“No,” Skyla growls as she glances up once again. “Trust me, that would have been much easier.” She takes a deep breath, and Logan stands next to her, both of them silently pleading with me to understand. But what?

“Gage.” Logan pinches his eyes closed a moment. “We never meant for this to happen.”

Skyla gives a frenetic nod. “And if I had my way, it would never happen.”

The baby girl lets out a squeal and claps her hand over Skyla’s mouth as if trying to slap her.

“What I mean is—” Skyla takes the baby girl’s hand and gives it a quick kiss. Something about that small insignificant action unsettles me. Skyla does that to our kids, sure, but a stranger’s child? Nursing her? Kissing her tenderly as if she were her own?

“What the hell is going on?”

“What Skyla is trying to say is”—Logan takes the child from her—“Candace dropped our daughter off in Tenebrous this afternoon.”

“It was a stupid ploy,” Skyla says it so fast my mind registers it as one solid word.

“Whose daughter?” My head swims, trying to digest Logan’s words. “Did you say your daughter?”

“Yes.” Logan offers that depressed grin that only he can pull off when he’s in the shitter, and right now I feel like I’m right there with him. “Look, we don’t know why Candace does what she does.”

Then it hits me. This little girl is their child—Skyla and Logan’s daughter—a child born of their love—of their sexual union.

I touch my finger to her tiny hand, and she curls her fingers around it, strong and sure, and I see Skyla there in her eyes.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Oh my God.” She laughs, and I see Logan there in her smile. My stomach sinks straight to hell, and my limbs feel heavy as lead. For a moment, I think I might drop Barron under the weight of this new reality. “What’s her name?”

“I’m sorry.” Logan shakes his head at me, and we lock eyes, cold and weary for what feels like two years. Logan and I have always been warring over Skyla, one-upping the stakes whenever we could. It always seemed that fate was on my side, or at least until this moment, this entire heartbreaking year. “We’re calling her Angel.” He bounces her in his arms, and she claps and laughs hard at the irony of her name. Barron leans over and grabs a handful of her hair, and she screams right at him until he relents. “It’s sort of a placeholder. We haven’t really named her. She just landed in our arms.”

Skyla takes Barron from me and leans in until I wrap an arm around her waist and it feels like a relief. Like the noose that was just placed over our marriage was just as quickly lifted.

“I can have Marshall help us take her back to paradise.” Her voice grows heavy and weary. “I mean, I can’t feed three babies, can I?” She nods up at me as if asking for permission.

Something in Logan’s eyes flickers like a fire of rage before he blinks it back. “We’re not taking her anywhere. We’re keeping her right here.” He looks right at me with an apology in his eyes before he ever says it. “I’ll take care of her, Skyla. You don’t have to feed her.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Her voice breaks, and tears run down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Gage. I was just trying to soften the blow with stupid words I didn’t mean. I’m with Logan. I don’t have the heart to send her back to paradise either.”

“And I would never ask you to.” I flick my fingers until Logan hands her to me, and Barron laughs as she carefully touches his hair, his face with her open palm. She’s solid, heavier than the boys but longer, her delicate features unmistakably feminine, and those kaleidoscope eyes. My heart melts and breaks all at once. I’m holding the evidence of their love. Skyla and Logan will at some point in time make this beautiful tiny being. My boys will love her, protect her to the death, and all I want to do is wash her in my tears. So this is the heft of the heartbreaking weight that Logan felt when Skyla and I had the boys. Only so much worse because he got to witness the buildup. He gets to see me pawing his once-wife with my meat hooks day after day, plying her with kisses, my eyes always bent on lewd intent. It’s a cruel thing fate has done, intertwining our hearts, all of our lust around the very same woman.

“She’s beautiful.” I offer a depleted smile down at the perfect little angel, blonde like her mother, like Logan, long lashes, and an ever so slight dimple low on her cheek. “She’ll grow up to look just like you, Skyla.”

Skyla grunts as if this were a bad thing. “I don’t doubt it. I’m my mother’s clone by design, and don’t forget the favor she thinks she did Mia by doling out the same genes.” She says favor with air quotes.

Yes, Mia may be Lizbeth’s daughter, but Candace made sure her features were heaven-sent to resemble that of her sister’s, and, of course, her.

“So this is her doing.” I press a kiss to the top of Angel’s head. Her hair feels slippery as silk. “Candace is reassuring you about the future.” I try to make it sound light, not at all the morbid newsflash it really is. “You know, preparing you for my mortal demise.” It sounds ridiculous now that I’ve said it out loud. “She’s made it clear whose team she’s on.” Literally. I shake my head without meaning to.

Skyla opens her mouth just as the doorbell rings, and we glance over as my mother ushers in Casey, one of the dead from next door. In fact, she’s one of the last residents staying at the house. Logan is staying with her, and so is Lex, but the rest of the dead are on the first leg of their mission—en route to be captured.

She speeds over, her eyes fixed on Logan’s. “Aren’t you watching the news? They’ve captured the mean girls! And some other girl I’ve never even heard of!” She shakes her head at Skyla. “I don’t think she was one of us—I mean me. I don’t think she was dead.”

“Shit,” Skyla mutters under her breath, and I help turn the television to the local news. We check our phones like mad as the commercials come to a conclusion, and sure as shit, the G-men are shown arresting four girls for shoplifting.

“Shoplifting?” Skyla looks up at me as if I have the answer, and deep down, the sexist pig who lives in me loves it. I crave Skyla’s affection, for her to need me, to look up to me if only to account for the practical height difference.

“Yes.” And, unfortunately, I think I really do have the answer. “They’re sending a message to the rest of us. They’re making arrests, hauling us off to government pastures.”

“They’re speaking in code.” Logan purses his lips as he looks to the screen. He squints in hard before finding the remote and rewinding the feed. “Is that Chloe in the back, talking to one of the officers?” He looks to Skyla for answers. We both do.

Her mouth opens as she takes Angel and jostles her over her hip. “Casey”—she turns her attention to the girl—“have you spoken to anyone about this?”

The frightened girl gives a slight nod. She’s so young, so emotionally fragile, I wish she hadn’t signed up for this at all. I’ve seen those men and women parading around the island like they’ve got a chip on their shoulders, because they do. They’re out for blood. Wes has the entire world shaken with his ridiculous clown sightings, those UFO reprisals which have the planet in a tizzy. This isn’t the best news for any one of our people, especially not those about to pay the price for their commitment.

“Okay.” Skyla takes up her hand. “Do you still want to do this? I can arrange for my mother to help you find another way home.”

“No,” she’s quick to protest. “I’m d-doing this,” she stammers. “The others are ready, and so am I. But who is that fourth girl, Skyla? Is she one of us?”

Logan skips ahead on the remote until the feed is live, and they show the faint hint of a redheaded girl leading the pack. The camera shot pulls away, and it’s impossible to make out their faces, but that wildfire hair, that erratic gait, the gesticulating she’s doing to the officer leading her by the elbow into his vehicle.

“I know her,” I offer. “Or at least I think I do.” Skyla and Logan wait with bated breath. “It’s Melody Winters. And she is very much one of us. I checked my father’s records. The Winters date back as far as the registry goes.” I take a deep breath. “I can check the records again, see what lineage. I just glanced over it.”

“Yes.” Skyla looks stunned by the fact Melody was taken. “I’d like to do that with you sometime.”

The boys whine until we land them over a quilt on the carpet and Skyla sets down her newfound baby girl next to them. Like a lightning bolt, she crawls over to the boys and my mother appears, praising the sight as if she’s never witnessed the event before.

“What a treat to have a little girl in the house. How long will you have her?” She looks to Skyla, and my stomach bottoms out. Had she told my mother about her? And in all of the ironies is my mother seemingly cheerleading the event?

Skyla looks to me and nods. “Jen—Laken’s sister is out of town for a bit, so I volunteered to keep an eye on her.” She glances back to my mother. “With Laken, of course.”

My mother shakes her head with disapproval. “Now that you’re a mother, you’ll need to familiarize yourself with the word no. If word gets out that you’re a pushover when it comes to babysitting, you’ll—”

I’m quick to cut her off, “End up with the largest daycare center on the island?”

The room breaks out into a warm laugh, and thankfully it seems to have cut the tension between my mother and Skyla. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how to turn down the volume of their shared disdain for one another.

Dinner goes off uneventful, sans the fact Ellis demonstrates—mostly to Giselle—his ability to inhale a noodle into his nose and pull it through his mouth. Once Ellis noshes on the meal he’s extracted, he and Logan proceed to talk about the construction that’s set to begin next week. It’s business as usual. Skyla and I have the boys in their high chairs, and my mother insists on feeding them the strained peas and string beans she’s made just for them. But my eyes keep flicking back to Logan with little Angel on his lap as Skyla sits next to him and spoon-feeds their daughter. Here I was all set to surprise Skyla with a day at Rockaway tomorrow, something fun to celebrate another school year under my belt, the end clawing ever so close. And now the only end I feel clawing near is that with Skyla. It can’t be. Candace wouldn’t let that happen so soon. She realizes I’m Skyla’s husband. The father of her favorite two grandsons. My God, I can’t leave now. I have too much work left to do.

The night drones on, and Logan comes home to Whitehorse along with his daughter. He sleeps in the guest bedroom down the hall while Skyla and I stay in the master with the boys. But Skyla never sleeps. She feeds the boys before going down the hall to the bedroom where Logan coos over his beautiful baby girl—and my God, she might be the most beautiful baby girl I’ve ever seen.

Skyla doesn’t come back to bed.

I didn’t think she would.

* * *

That night, I dream many dreams—starting off with a fan favorite, Skyla, Logan, and me back at West, back in those mythical halcyon years where we were unstoppable in our unity. And after that, I dream of water. There’s always water in this hallucinogenic world of my own making. I’m wading through a stream that quickly morphs into an ocean, only the water isn’t blue, or clear, or even green. It’s red. And I marvel as I stare down at the sanguine liquid. It’s blood. It’s my own. And just like that, my lids blink open.

I give a lazy flutter of the lids, my hand swooping over the cool bedside next to me where my wife usually warms the sheets. But Skyla isn’t there. I shouldn’t have expected her to be. It’s been a solid week, and we are still at Whitehorse. Skyla is spent. Her energy depleted. She’s begged Ezrina to help her figure out which formula comes closest to breastmilk because she wants to start supplementing, and I don’t blame her. She’s tried feeding Angel right along with the boys, and it’s drained all the color from her skin, the purple rings under her eyes are a testament to the fact it’s not the greatest idea. She’s taxing her body and her mind. Skyla is housebound for the most part, but on the odd moment she does leave, she takes off with Chloe. She claims they’re turning in the dead to the government, and sure enough, in each city they venture off to, a vague article on petty crime pops up. Skyla swears that she’s keeping out of danger, that Chloe is doing all the heavy lifting—but with Chloe around, Skyla is only keeping company with danger. When I asked how they were traveling, Skyla said they’re light driving. She’s not playing with fire. She’s making love to it, letting it enter into places that it never should be in the first place. Skyla is already burned beyond recognition. She just doesn’t know it yet.

It’s the night of Brielle and Drake’s shared bachelor, bachelorette party before their big do-over in a couple of weeks. Bree mentioned she needed ample time between the big party and the big event. In all honesty, knowing how much Bree and Drake like to party, they’ll need a couple of weeks to rid themselves of the hangover.

Skyla and I stop by the Landon house to drop the boys and Angel off. Logan comes along for the ride because in a week’s span of time he’s become the world’s most doting father, making me feel like a bad dad by a paternal mile. He went insane one night on the Internet, and the next day everything that you might need for a child arrived at his doorstep. He gave Skyla the task of filling Angel’s closet and handed over his credit card like some sort of American Express god. And as much as I may not want to admit it, Skyla was in pink-ruffled-tutu-bow-wearing-sparkly-shoed heaven. Every time she made a purchase, she bounced around the house with glee. I’ve never seen her so thrilled to shop for the boys, but, in her defense, I’ve never handed over my plastic as if it were a Black Card and let her have at it.

“Knock, knock!” Skyla sings as we stride on in. The Landon house looks the same, slightly chaotic with a sprinkling of toys and pets everywhere. It smells the same, perhaps better than usual because Emily has all but taken over the kitchen. Tonight, it’s grilled cheese, using her favorite vegan cheese replacement, I’m sure. Em might have turned into a world-class granola cruncher, but hot damn, the girl can make shoe leather taste like filet mignon. Yes, we’re eating vegan, organic fare that she has Drake ante up for, but we are eating like kings. Not to sound like an ass, but Em has found her calling. I’d encourage her to open a restaurant, but I’m wise enough to put it off until Skyla and I are out of the house for good. Just the memory of Lizbeth’s cooking brings the bile up in the back of my throat.

“Jessie, Mary, and Joseph!” Tad grunts at the sight of us. “Told you she was keeping the stray.” He points his cane in little Angel’s direction. The cane is a new addition, but long overdue in my opinion. My stomach grinds hearing him go off like that because I’m so fucking sick of Tad’s insular behavior.

“She’s not a stray.” I lean Nathan in toward the tiny tot, and they give one another open-mouthed, sloppy, wet kisses on the cheek, and the entire room melts in a puddle of oohs and ahhs.

“Skyla!” Lizbeth scoops Barron from her. “God, she’s so adorable! How are you ever going to give that little princess back?” She gives Angel’s cheek a squeeze, and the little girl trills a sweet laugh to the ceiling right from her father’s arms. Logan has held her longer, stronger this week than anything he’s ever touched in his life.

Tad honks out a laugh. “Now that’s the best idea you’ve ever had. Give that creature back to its mother. She’s probably some teen queen who’s off enjoying her summer vacay.” He wags a crooked finger at his wife. “And don’t think for a minute these two coconuts haven’t thought about doing the same.” He waddles right up to my face, and the urge to deck him rises in me. “Listen here, Greg. You’ve got enough of your own responsibilities now. Don’t you go letting the little woman snap up kids off the street left and right, or you’ll end up like me—in a house full of spider monkeys trying to crawl into your pants!”

There are so many things wrong with that sentence I don’t know where to begin.

“Don’t worry.” I offer a placid smile. “I won’t end up like you.” If anything, Tad’s existence as a whole is more or less a cautionary tale.

“Okay”—Skyla hands the bloated diaper bag to Melissa—“I’ve already fed them dinner, but I threw in a few extra jars anyway. And if you could put the bottles in the fridge right away, I’d appreciate it.”

“Bottles?” Lizbeth’s tit radar immediately goes up, and Logan and I exchange a quiet laugh because we know what’s coming. “You know I’m not totally opposed to pumping, but you won’t be that late, Skyla. And a good mother knows it’s best to keep them on the nipple. It’s still not too late for them to start rejecting you.”

“Geez, Mother”—Skyla takes Nathan from me and hands him to Mia—“you make it sound so personal. I can’t keep up this pace any longer. They’re ravenous—and have I mentioned biting me? Plus, they don’t seem to mind the formula at all.”

Both Skyla and Lizbeth freeze. I’m pretty sure that was a slipup on Skyla’s part. She’s been pretty staunch on keeping this bit of manufactured news from her mom.

“Oh my living God!” Lizbeth thunders so loud the house shakes. “You are not giving my grandchildren powdered toxins from the grocery store! Please do not tell me you have resorted to putting trash into your children’s bodies, or I will—”

Skyla lays a finger over her mother’s lips in an effort to silence her. “You will survive, and so will they. Besides, it’s not trash. I have it on good authority that the formula I selected is as good as mommy milk. My friend Ezrina can attest to this. And I’m still feeding them every night—religiously.”

Lizbeth’s face contorts in grief, red as a turnip. “My God, you only made it six months,” she wails. “I should have been there for you. I can’t believe I idly stood by and allowed this to happen. It’s all those damned vaginas’ fault.” Her chest bucks with a silent cry, and both Logan and I exchange a worried glance. Who the hell knew a simple bottle could lead to a meltdown of vaginal proportions?

“Okay, fine.” Skyla cups her mother’s face. “I’ll only use the bottles in the event of an emergency. I promise I’ll keep myself front and center as the boys’ favorite chew toy.” She gives Angel a sly look because she just so happens to be her favorite chew toy as well. “Mostly.”

We wrap up the party and say a quick round of goodbyes.

Tad limps us to the door, right along with Lizbeth. “And don’t you bad mouth those pink bits and pieces! Those tiny portals of humanity are racking up quite the payday around here. Don’t knock it till you try it!” He slams the door behind us as if to exclaim his vaginal point.

We step out onto the porch and pause as the cool Paragon air wraps itself around us as Skyla makes a beeline for the car, already texting someone—most likely Chloe.

Logan knocks me in the ribs with his elbow. “Here that, Greg?” That shit-eating grin of his spreads ear-to-ear. “You can make a nice nest egg for yourself selling a little piece of ass.”

“The only piece of ass I need is right there”—I nod to Skyla, slightly sickened by my own dry humor, even if it were a play on words—“and my chief concern is my nest. I think I need to ask Liam to help me whip that place into shape. I’ll spend every last dollar and every last breath doing it.” That dollar drop sponsored by Dominique Winters comes to mind. I have more than enough to renovate the place from top to bottom. I meant to get to the renovation sooner, but with the dead hanging around the house, I didn’t bother with the remodel.

Logan lets out a white plume of a sigh. His shoulders depress as he offers a weary nod of agreement. “I’ve got a few dollars rolling around and all the spare time in the world. I’ll help you get whatever shit you need knocked out. How about we set a goal of getting the two of you moved in well before your anniversary?”

Something in me loosens, and it feels as if Logan and I are back on track, not the adversaries for Skyla’s love and affection, the heavy competitors for her heart that we’ve been all week. The truth is, I’m tired of warring it out with Logan. I’m still married to Skyla. I win. That should be enough for me.

“Sounds good.”

He meets me with a fist bump as we head out to the Mustang.

I win when it comes to Skyla. I shake my head at the thought as I crawl into the back seat—Logan and Skyla in the front like a couple.

An overpowering grief crashes over me, and I watch them as we drive out to Ellis’. Both Skyla and Logan have my heart. Candace has laid out the future for them like a smooth path. The only briar patch in the middle is me.

I lean back and glare up at the sky.

I’m not complying with your little plan. This is my life. My wife. My family you are threatening to tear to pieces. I won’t let you.

Because no matter what you’re dreaming up, whatever it is you’re scheming, I’m ready to fight to the death—and perhaps beyond that if I have to, and something tells me I’ll have to.

I won’t let you make me feel like I’m holding onto the losing end of the stick.

I’m not.

I have Skyla.

I’ve already won.

* * *

Ellis’ house is shaking, quaking with the dull inharmonious rhythm of the bass as an ornery rap song blares through the neighborhood. I can practically feel my mother’s tension from across the street. She let me know twice this morning that she was pissed over the fact Skyla’s sister would be watching the boys tonight, and here she was a mere ten steps away. I’m betting she’s having second thoughts about that right about now. Although, all I hear lately is how very little they see the boys, how she suspects Skyla is favoring her own family, and the boys will grow up to be strangers to her and my father. I don’t believe that for a minute. But her budding piranha-like ways have to be clipped. That’s why I’m going to propose that Skyla and I move in with them while I attack the old Walsh place with a sledgehammer. Tad is right. I do not want to end up like him, or near him. I declare that shit ride has come to an unceremonious end. And, of course, my mother can have her fill of the boys for a couple of weeks straight, proving that Skyla doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.

We step out of the Mustang and onto the Harrisons’ driveway.

“It’s just like old times!” Skyla threads her arm through mine as she bounces in her high heels. She looks gorgeous tonight, per usual. She’s donned a short black dress and swiped on a little red lipstick, taking her to supermodel levels. She looks just as physically fit as she did before she had the boys, but every time I bring it up she reprimands me for lying, so I leave well enough alone.

Ellis stumbles out, looks dazed and confused, and Logan shakes his head at him.

“Just like old times.” He slaps Ellis over the back. “Dude, you okay?”

“Hell yeah. I am now.” Ellis offers us each a high five. “Get the hell in there. I have the entertainment showing up soon. I promised Bree I’d flag them down so they don’t miss us.”

Skyla laughs at the thought. “I don’t think anyone can miss this place, not tonight anyway. I’m afraid to ask, but what’s the entertainment?”

“Chloe on a spit?” Logan offers, and the only one not laughing is Skyla.

“Dude”—Ellis mock socks her arm—“I was just talking to Bishop in there. You need to chill out, and then you need to take a step way the hell back. She told me what the two of you are up to, and I don’t know, man. You’re not playing with matches here. You’re running around a firework factory with a torch in hand.”

“Preach it.” Logan forces a smile Skyla’s way, and she scoffs.

“I’d better go find Bree.” She hikes up and plants a kiss on my cheek before strutting her hot self inside.

“So, what’s she got going on with Bishop?” I glare at Ellis because I think we both know if he doesn’t speak up I might just crush him for the hell of it. It’s killing me not knowing what Skyla and Chloe have going on. And it seems like every time we get the conversation started something, everything interrupts us.

“Dude”—Ellis lets out a groan that sounds like his insides are about to explode—“she’s fucking with the wrong person. I’d say talk some sense into that woman, but it’s too late for that shit.”

Logan yanks him in by the elbow. “Why is it too late?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not up on all that covenant bullshit.” He takes a few steps out before turning to Logan. “And hey, G and I made a few modifications to the plans. Meet up with me sometime if you get a second.” He flags down an SUV full of older women who happen to be sporting some serious war paint and eyelashes so long they come with their own zip code. The garish grannies file out, each wearing a tiny silk robe, and Ellis howls up a storm. “Shit! These chicks are hot!” He’s quick to escort them around the back, leaving both Logan and me shaking our heads.

“What the hell just happened?”

Logan groans at the sight. “He’d better get his eyes checked.” He turns his full attention my way, his features hardening to something just this side of pissed. “And Skyla better get her head checked. What the hell is going on? Ellis doesn’t throw the word covenant out there lightly.”

“No, he doesn’t. And I don’t think Skyla does either. Has she said anything at all to you?” I scour his features as if his words alone won’t be enough to satisfy me.

“No. She’s been tight-lipped from the beginning. I think it’s time we had a sit-down. In the least I want to know what the hell is about to blow up in our faces.”

A dull laugh dies in my throat because I’m too pissed to give it. “Do you have that little faith in Skyla’s ability to lead? She’s bright. She’s capable. And whatever she’s doing with Chloe, I’m sure she’s thought it through.”

“Yes, I have faith in Skyla’s ability to lead,” he says it with a viral anger that matches my own. Emotions have been running high this week on both ends, and they’re about to blow. “It’s Chloe I don’t trust, and neither should you. If I were to take a wild guess, it’s your face this will take off first.” Logan’s angry eyes stay trained on mine, and neither of us moves. For a minute, I consider how good it would feel to go at him. Shove my fist down his obnoxious throat, pummel him, blow after blow, but then it doesn’t take long for me to figure out it wouldn’t do any good. We’ve screwed with one another so much in the past, repented, begged forgiveness, and started all over again. It’s like a demonic carousel neither one of us can figure out how to get off of. “And while I’ve got you here.” He glances up at the house with its guests spilling out onto the driveway, each with a requisite red Solo cup in hand. That lion fountain that Emily so readily destroyed last New Year’s Eve already resurrected as if nothing had happened. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been infiltrating your life as of late. I sense the tension, and I don’t want that, not for you or for me.”

“It’s all right. I get it. You’ve got a bundle of joy that you didn’t expect, dropped off on your doorstep. You’re excited, and you should be.” My stomach clenches because I can’t imagine what Candace was thinking, toying with everyone’s emotions this way. “Skyla and I are moving to my mom’s until the house is ready. Why don’t you come, too? You’ll be close to Angel, and I know Skyla would appreciate it.”

Logan looks up at me with that stillness he usually gets just before the disappointment sets in. I can’t live at Whitehorse without having my balls shrivel. Hell, I’d rather live with Tad, and I have.

“I get it,” he whispers. “I’ll think about it.”

A small crowd strides by, three men, three women—paired off two by two, but these aren’t your average partygoers. These aren’t your average strippers either. They’re all too uptight, far too invested in playing the part to relax. It’s the G-man brigade trying to cash in on whatever they can to net more prospects.

“They’re here,” Logan says as they make their way inside.

“And they are never going to leave.”

We follow them inside, and Lexy attacks Logan as soon as we walk through the door. I spot Michelle dry-humping Liam, and he gives a casual wave as if it’s an everyday occurrence, and knowing the two of them it is. But it’s the dark-haired, pale-skinned sulker standing with his enormous arms crossed while looking down at everyone in the vicinity that has my attention.

I walk over and slap my brother, the brooder, over the shoulder. “Smile, would you? It’s a good look on both of us.”

“I have little to smile about these days.” He scowls out at the crowd, and I follow his incendiary glare to Skyla and Chloe. Shit. “And neither do you.” He lifts his drink as if he’s toasting the fact. “Your wife is more trouble than she’s worth.”

“So is yours.” I step into his view. The last thing I’m going to stand for is Wesley demeaning my wife while staring her down. “What’s with Laken’s double? Is she still in the Transfer?”

“Safe and sound.”

Wes told me he was housing her and assured me he would not let her run amuck on Paragon.

“I don’t want to talk about her.” His shoulders slump as he cranes his neck past me a moment. “My wife left me, and I want to know why.”

I glance back to Skyla and Chloe. Bree has joined them and is in the process of strangling them both in an awkward embrace. “Chloe left you?” A dull laugh thumps through me. “I’ll take a wild stab at it. Maybe the fact you’re fucking this new girl in her bed had something to do with it. Chloe is a complicated creature, but she is pretty practical when it comes to being number two to anyone. You of all people should know that. She’s you in female skin.”

He shakes his head wistfully as the music picks up in both volume and rhythm. “That must be what did us in. We were too much alike.”

“That and the fact you’re obsessed with fucking Cooper Flanders’ wife.”

“As she is with Skyla Messenger’s husband.”

“Touché.”

Wes nods me over to the kitchen where the roar from the speakers is slightly subdued. “Who are these people Skyla has manipulated into giving themselves up to the feds? She’s royally fucking up my plans.” He lets out a greedy grin as if she’s doing just the opposite and fitting into them quite nicely. And for the love of God, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

“None of your business. How are things going with the volunteers?” My heart throttles into my skull and starts vibrating right along with the rhythm Ellis has cursed us with. I don’t want anyone to suffer. But the assholes Wes wrangled up to wet the feds’ appetites for the Nephilim have really pissed me off.

“They’ve recanted. As soon as one escaped captivity, he warned the rest not to do it. They dropped off like flies.” He shakes his head with the beginnings of an incredulous laugh. “They actually believe that Skyla can protect them. That her Retribution League is about to take down all of my efforts and appease the federal government—and that their paranormal works department will be more than satisfied. But you and I know it can never happen.”

“If they get enough people, it will. They may be casting a wide net, but in no way are they equipped to take on the numbers they’d need to. They’re going to be satiated and soon.”

“Maybe.” He cups his hand over his chin. “Skyla is setting Chloe up for something. It’s Chloe that’s going out and reporting these idiots while Skyla sits back and reaps the rewards.”

“A strategy you’re familiar with, I take it?”

“A strategy I invented,” he smarts. “And before you say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, let me make it clear that if done incorrectly, it will cost you your life. If your wife needs a few lessons, send her my way. A few good tips might just save both your necks.” He looks to the door before doing a double take as Laken and Coop make their way over.

“Look who’s here.” Laken’s wide, sarcastic smile sets the tone. “I hear you’ve been enjoying my company.” She frowns at Wes and lets all of her disappointment bleed through. That look right there is enough to cut a man’s balls off and stuff them into his mouth. “And I see Skyla is losing her sanity again with Chloe by her side.” Now it’s me she’s frowning at. “I’d better go say hello.”

Cooper waits until she’s out of earshot before stepping into Wes, and I can feel the fistfight coming before he ever throws a swing. Honest to God, I don’t know what the hell’s taken so long.

“Wes.” Coop closes his eyes a moment. “I know you’re desperate. I know you love her, or at least you think you do—but you don’t. If you really loved Laken, you would still have her.”

My stomach tenses in a knot, because if Coop didn’t throw the first punch, it just increased the odds that Wesley might.

But, instead, my brother closes his eyes and acquiesces to Coop’s logic. “I know. If I followed her lead, and gave up my standing, then I would have Laken safe in my arms.” He glances to me as if I might have something to add.

“I don’t think so.” It may not be the answer he was waiting for, but it’s the truth. “Her heart was already pointing to Coop.”

“It’s true.” Wes raises his brows to him in amusement. “So, you see, Laken was never mine to lose. She was already knitted to your soul before she ever left me. And that, my friend, is the sword in my heart.” He looks past him to the girls who appear to be at a standstill themselves. “But you won’t last forever, Coop.” He glances back to me and offers a morbid smile. “None of us will.” He takes off into the crowd as bodies bury him from our sight.

I step in close to Coop as the music strangles the atmosphere around us. “Did you ever find out who the girl is?”

“Yes, I did.” He looks my way, and in this dim light, he and Logan could be interchangeable.

“Who the hell is she?” Logan steps in from behind and startles us both.

Coop gives a little laugh. “I’ll tell you before the night is through, but why don’t we make a game of it? First one who figures it out gets a bonus prize. I’ll fill him and only him in on another little nugget. I happen to know what the hell Skyla is doing with that witch she’s leashed herself to.” He takes a deep breath as he looks back in the direction of the girls. “And it’s not a bad idea—that is, if it works.”

“It won’t work,” Logan is quick to assure us all of Skyla’s demise.

“You’re a real fucking cheerleader, you know that?” Coop grins as he says it. “Why don’t you try out for the team at West? I hear they’re looking for a few good girls.”

“Funny,” he growls at me before reverting to Coop. “Give us a hint. I guarantee it’ll take me less than five minutes to solve it, so get ready to spill all you know about Skyla as well.”

Coop’s chest thumps with a laugh. “Ezrina’s science project—she’s a beauty and a bitch—Laken’s words, not mine. She’s been suspiciously M.I.A., and considering she’s been a thorn in my wife’s side as far back as Ephemeral—” he looks to us as he drops off the granddaddy hint of them all, and both Logan and I tip our heads back and groan.

“Kresley Fisher.” Logan grunts. “But why the big show in the blue tank? Ezrina had to kill Kresley to put her in that thing.”

Coop ticks his head back. “Something went wrong during the facial reconstruction. Kresley’s heart stopped. Ezrina said it was a nightmare. But it’s done.”

Logan raises his brows. “Makes sense. Now catch us up on what we really want to know.”

“Wait.” I pinch my eyes shut and try to derail the headache Ellis is sponsoring. “I’m out. I don’t want to know.” I take off and get lost in the crowd. As much as I want to glean every intimate detail I can about the covenant Skyla has with Chloe, I want all of the information I get to be from Skyla herself. And I want her to give it willingly. Our marriage means more to me than some seemingly vital gossip. Besides, as long as Logan is aware of the fact, that’s as good as me being in on it. At least for now. Logan and I are of one mind when it comes to my wife. If she’s in imminent danger, he’ll know what to do. I’ll find rest in that for now.

A beefed-up dude with a T-shirt that looks ten sizes too small, a drink in both hands, shuffles his way up. I know him. He’s been at all the Viden meet and greets. It’s Zander Richards, Emily’s cousin on her father’s side. His little brothers volunteered in Wesley’s nightmare and are off haunting the globe somewhere looking for human flesh to consume because Wes has killed them for sport and turned them into a bunch of staggering Spectators. They’re still keeping the news feed going, but, for whatever reason, Wes hasn’t thrown them to the wolves. The Spectators are the Bigfoot of our generation. If the feds start snapping them up, it will take the heat off the Nephilim. Is that what Wes wants? It seems counterintuitive to his overall plan of taking down those who chose not to side with the Barricade. It’s all a bad plan if you ask me. And that, right there, is the alarming thing about my brother. He is rife with bad ideas and quick to initiate them. Thus, turning Kresley into Laken. But if the rumor is true and he’s been fucking her sideways in the Transfer as Chloe suggests, I can’t say Kres regrets her decision. It doesn’t make sense, though. He had Chloe morphing into Laken’s likeness whenever he wanted. Something is up. And, knowing my brother, we’ll all hear about it sooner than later.

Zander shoves his huge mitt into my chest and sends me staggering backward. His drinks go flying, and the crowd gasps around us. “You’re a little fucker, you know that?”

“Hey”—Wes pops up from out of nowhere and barks in his face—“what the hell’s your problem, man? Why don’t you take off? You smell like you’re soaked in vodka.”

“I’m soaked, all right.” He blows past Wes and gets in my face again. “What’s the matter, little man? You need your big bro to fight your battles for you? Wait a second”—a greasy grin lights up his face—“I almost forgot. Your wife wears the balls in the family.”

“That’s it.” I scoop him up by the shirt and drive him to the wall, landing him against it so hard a crack snakes right to the ceiling. “I get it. You’re worried about your family. But what you don’t get is the fact I didn’t put them in that predicament. They did it to themselves,” I riot in his face just as the music hits a lull and the crowd stills around us.

Zander grabs me by the shirt and twists me into the wall, making that fissure I’ve just erupted in Harrison’s home run a little deeper. “My brothers had no choice. Maybe if you knew your own brother as well as I know mine, you would have known that, too.”

He takes off, and I spot Emily chasing after him.

“Damn idiot.” Wes pulls me from the wall and for a moment I’m not sure if he’s talking about Zander or me. “Each and every volunteer came of his own volition. I would be remiss to force anyone’s hand. I follow the same rules as your wife.” He glances back at her. “Only I know when and where they will bite me in the ass.” He takes off for the door and doesn’t look back.

“Nice.” Logan dusts the drywall off my shoulder as Liam comes up beside him.

“The two of you are really racking up the construction jobs for me. At this rate, I’ll be able to retire before I ever begin.”

Drake and Bree pop up, looking deliriously happy and least of all concerned over the newly formed hole in the wall behind me.

Brielle hops up and latches her arms around my neck. “There’s nothing hotter than Gage Oliver beating the shit out of some guy at your bachelorette party!” she howls in my face, and I smell the liquor emanating off her. Skyla and Chloe show up, and my stomach turns seeing them within fighting distance.

“You’d better back off, Bree.” Skyla plucks her off and quickly takes her place. “He’s all mine, girls.” She gives Chloe a sly wink, and Chloe flips her the bird.

“You bore me, Messenger.” Chloe takes up Logan’s hand and starts to lead him toward the crowd losing it to the music. “Let’s show ’em how it’s done.” And shockingly—perhaps not shockingly, Logan goes right along with her. I know him. He’ll keep his enemy close enough to get what he needs out of them. Theoretically, Skyla might be doing the very same thing, but this is Chloe. It will never work the way it’s supposed to.

Lex trots up, red-faced and panting. “Is that Bishop wiping her paws on my man?”

Skyla grunts out a laugh. “I never thought I’d say this, Lex, but go get what’s yours.”

Lex takes off, and I spot the three of them in what looks like a dance-off.

“I’ve already got what’s mine,” Skyla whispers hot into my ear, and my dick perks to life. “Now what’s this I hear about us moving to Emma’s?”

“What?” Bree is the first to protest. “Hell no, you can’t go.” She wraps an arm around Skyla, tight. “This girl right here is staying with me.”

“Good news travels fast.” I’d laugh, but it shouldn’t surprise me that it’s true. “Logan and Liam are going to help me get the house in order. We’ll be in our own home before you know it.”

Her eyes linger over mine a moment too long. “And your mom’s house is closer.” She sounds as if she’s trying to talk herself into it.

Bree lifts her top and flashes the two of us, snapping us right out of that danger zone my mother seems to throw us in each and every time. “How do you like my boobs?”

“Shit.” I close my eyes, trying to get the image of her huge nipples out of my head. Over the years, I’ve seen more of Brielle Johnson’s body than I care to admit. Mostly that has to do with the fact I was the one who delivered Beau into this world—in a parking lot, behind a hotel on prom night. It was one event—and one exaggeratingly large vagina I will never forget.

“They’re new. I had them lifted. Drake says he likes the size, but I might go bigger.”

“No,” Skyla scolds. “They’re prefect. Cute and perky just like you.”

“Hear that?” Bree drips over Drake and nearly takes him down in the process. “Skyla likes my boobies just the way they are! But don’t you worry. I’m still committed to taking the best care of myself for the rest of my life.” She winks Skyla’s way. “We girls need to keep it hot—in and out of the covers.”

“Dude”—Drake pulls back and examines his bride—“I don’t care what you look like when we’re going at it. I think of other chicks anyway.”

Bree squeals with laughter as they head off toward the crowd.

“And who says romance is dead?” I steal a kiss from my own bride, and we share a quick laugh. “Coop let me in on who’s down in the Transfer with Wes.”

“Oh my God!” She bounces on her toes. “The Laken knockoff?”

I give a slight nod. “He gave us a hint; she’s a thorn in Laken’s side, and I could easily say the same for you. We haven’t seen her in months.”

Her mouth opens wide. “Kresley? That dumb, dumb bitch.” She closes her eyes as if she’s actually sorry for her. “I hate to say it, but she’s really put herself in danger.”

“Why? Did Chloe tell you something new?”

She gives a slight nod of her own. “Wes has a dick the size of a telephone pole.”

“Skyla.” I tip my head back and groan.

“Kidding!” She plants a kiss on my lips and slips her tongue into my mouth playfully. “You’re the only one with a dick wildly out of proportion around here.”

“As it should be.” I give a self-satisfied smile. Skyla and I are back to normal, and this is how I like it. No tension, no grief from any of our mothers, just the two of us messing around like a couple of teenagers. “Coop also knows what you and Chloe are up to.” She winces as I wrap my arms around her. “He offered to tell me, but I thought I’d get my info from the source. Does the source feel like coughing up info anytime soon?” The smile drops off my face because there are some things I can’t fake around Skyla, and how I feel is one of them.

Skyla opens her mouth, her gaze still locked onto mine, and a thumping sound emits over the speakers. A series of spotlights circle the ceiling before slowly migrating to the back of the grand room where a mock stage is set up. Everyone in the vicinity turns their attention in that direction as the music picks up to a sultry beat.

Brielle charges at us. “Get over here!” She snatches Skyla by the wrist, and they take off through the crowd in search of front row seats. I spot Logan and Coop and head in their direction.

“You tell him everything you know?” I offer Coop a playful shove, even though we’re well aware I’m serious as shit.

“I heard enough.” Logan crosses his arms as an army of scantily dressed elderly women dance into the room. The blonde snaps up Drake, lands his face in her cleavage, and the crowd gives an approving cheer. An equally scantily dressed group of men slip in behind the girls, and the beefiest of the bunch pulls Skyla up on stage with him. These dudes are young, and buff, and both of those facts have me glaring at the one currently holding my wife hostage.

“Figures.” Logan leans in. “Bree fed her to the wolves.”

Coop’s chest thumps with a quiet laugh. “She should get used to it. Chloe’s about to do the same thing.”

And just like that, my anger flares up. I’m so sick of Logan and Coop and their self-righteous put-downs of the woman I love.

“That’s my wife, and I support her,” I say it out loud at completely the wrong time.

The beefed-up dude takes Skyla’s hand and helps himself to a nice massage right over that massive hump in the crotch of his loincloth. It takes her less than five seconds to free herself and hop off the stage.

Logan looks to me. “Sometimes people make her do things she doesn’t want to do.”

Coop nods along. “That’s Chloe in a nutshell. Just wait. You’ll see we’re right.”

I glance back up to find Brielle riding on the back of one of the entertainers, spanking his behind as if he were a donkey.

Skyla comes up and wraps her arms around me, breathless with a laugh trapped behind her smile. “I’m going to step out for a bit. Watch this guy for me, would you?” She charges Logan with the task before offering a nice juicy kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t leave without me.” She pulls back, and any enthusiasm she had on her face dissipates. “Chloe is just a cockroach on a leash, Gage,” she whispers, the sound of heartbreak in her voice hangs heavy. “That’s it in a nutshell, I promise.” She gives another peck before taking off.

“That about sums it up,” Logan offers. “But we both know the devil is in the details.”

Coop nods in agreement. “And Chloe and Wes are two devils who thrive on every last detail.”

And just like that, Skyla has become a detail in the lives of Chloe and Wes.

Things couldn’t fall to shit any faster if they tried.

* * *

Things fall to shit faster than anyone thought possible. Within a week, the feds have sopped up every last of the resurrected dead like wine with a loaf of bread, savoring every last delicious morsel. The last of which being the most bittersweet. Casey was captured at the library while strolling through the young adult section.

Logan and I sulk over the fact as we wait for the rest of the Videns to arrive. I’ve dragged him down here with me, to the nocturnal, petrified underbelly of the island—or at least it is in theory. It is my very own realm, where I sit on a crooked throne of lies pretending to know what the hell is going on at any given time.

Wes and Demetri come up, with Wes looking his usual irritated self, and Demetri unmoved by my decision to have a visitor.

“What’s this?” Wes barks, affronted as if I pulled down my pants and took a shit on his shoes.

“He’s with me,” I say it bored, certain that he has no power to undermine me. “What’s on the agenda?” I look to my father and those dark laughing eyes.

“The Videns have expressed a dissatisfaction with the handling of the Spectators. They want a reversal of fortune for their loved ones who sacrificed much in the endeavor.” He looks to Wes and nods.

“No.” Wes is quick to hack our father’s dick off, and I don’t really mind all that much. “They’re mine. I need them to stay put.” He glares at me a moment. “You were right. Skyla has managed to satiate the feds. They’ve taken over the back side of Raven’s Eye and set up camp. So there you go. Skyla thinks she’s trumped me as easily as that.”

“Raven’s Eye,” I whisper. “Of course, the island has belonged to the navy for as long as I can remember. That’s probably been their base all along.” Raven’s Eye sits west of Host. My father took Logan and me out there once when we were kids while he retrieved a body for the morgue. It’s a flatland of black rocks, looks more like a dried-up lava bed than anything remotely resembling Paragon, but it’s not without its evergreen crown.

Logan nods my way. “And now we know exactly where they are.” I can see the relief in his eyes. Casey has grown on us all like a little sister. It’s hard knowing she’s out there. And the rest of them, too. They were great people. Still are. All of them were once dead with the exception of—

“Melody Winters,” Demetri cuts me off at the pass and only reinforces the fact he can hear my thoughts down here. Hell, he can hear them everywhere. “She’s a transplant from another generation. A traveler, if you will.”

“Melody?” Logan looks to me and shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure she’s been on the island—born and bred. You mean she’s one of us?” Logan asks Demetri as if the demon might actually respond in kind. We’ve already surmised as much per my father’s—real father’s, catalog.

“Indeed. A rebellious heart. An even split between Celestra and Countenance. The worst of all combinations if you ask me. And you did ask me.” He takes a moment to smile and gleam a greasy grin his way. “You know what they say, ask and you shall receive.” He takes off and mingles with the older Videns standing around by the fountain of fire, a special effect provided by none other than Demetri himself.

Wes leans in with that easy grin of his gliding across his face. “You know what I’m going to ask for?”

“What?” I’m mildly amused.

“Nothing. I’m going to take it all myself.” He takes off for the crowd, leaving Logan and me alone, the way I like it.

“You know what I’m going to ask for?” I can feel my dimples digging in as I hold back a laugh.

“Another three feet added to your dick?” He shrugs it off. “Lex and Chloe were talking about it last night.”

“No,” I flatline, unamused. “I’m going to ask you to head to Raven’s Eye. I want to know what the feds are doing. I want to know what our people aren’t being subjected to—and the dead are.” My lips twitch because a part of me doesn’t want to say what comes next. “Is Skyla safe? With Chloe?” I’m the only one officially in the dark.

“As safe as she could ever be with Chloe Bishop. Is Chloe safe?”

We share a quick laugh as Demetri calls the meeting to order.

“Hey”—Logan leans in—“how are these in comparison to the Faction meetings?”

“Let’s just say they can be a bit more spirited.”

I take a seat on my throne, and Logan sits on a stone next to me as we look down at the throngs of men around us along with a few disgruntled women peppered throughout, Emily Morgan being one of them.

“Where the hell are our people?” she shouts from the back, and I’m momentarily stunned. Out of everyone here, Emily has unobstructed access to me anytime she wishes. What the hell?

“They’re safe,” I offer. “Wesley has them on assignment.” Bullshit answer number one.

Wes rears his head as if I had roused him from his sleep. “They’re not coming home.”

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. If he were closer, I’d kick him in the nuts.

Wes stands on a boulder to my left, erecting himself a full six feet above me. “Your loved ones are mine. They are to be utilized, disposed of in any manner that I desire because they gave me that honor.” The crowd ignites to unsafe levels of disgruntled cries, threats of bodily harm to both Wes and me.

Logan shoots me a look. “Just a bit more spirited.” He nods to the crowd. “They even come bearing gifts.”

I follow his gaze to a man with a noose in his hands, and my stomach sinks.

The Videns are pissed. They are hungry for blood. Tonight, they exude a fiery rage, and Wes just doused the place with gasoline.

Wesley turns to me, his eyes as dead as his soul. “Ezrina says she can’t guarantee a conversion. A sacrifice has been made. The people will simply have to live with it.” He takes off and evaporates as he hits the jasper wall behind me.

Logan and I stand as the crowd begins to riot amongst themselves.

“You make a decision, and you live with it,” Logan offers as if it were sage advice. “That’s what happened to me.”

“It’s what happens to all of us.” But how the hell do you explain that to a bunch of rabid, grieving relatives who want their boys back?

Nathan and Barron come to mind, and my heart is overcome with grief right along with the rest of the Videns. I get it.

I hold out a hand, and the crowd begins to still. Slowly, the eruptions of hatred grind to a halt.

“I cannot imagine your pain—but I can make it better.” I meet with the eyes of those near madness at what’s become of their loved ones. “I will do everything I can to bring your boys home safe.” I look right into Emily’s piercing stare. “I promise.”

* * *

A month crawls by. Skyla and I lasted one night at my parents’ house. One fucking night before my mother started an inquisition as to why Angel is still with us, and Skyla couldn’t handle the heat. Truthfully, neither could I. In fact, in the short month and a half we’ve had her, she feels every bit ours as much as the boys do. And I love her just as much. It’s shocking to me on some level, and yet completely understandable. I love Logan, and, of course, I love Skyla. How could I not love flesh from their flesh? Not to mention the fact Angel has an infectious laugh, and an infectious smile, and has started calling both Logan and me Da Da. And just as precious as that, she’s trained the boys to do the same. Skyla is still waiting for them to call her anything, but right now I’m honored to share that title with Logan. Deep down, I know it’s a title we’ll share in my boys’ life as long as we’re alive.

But those dark dreams I’ve had of late keep coming, fast and furious. Water turns to wine. Wine turns to blood. I find myself drowning in a pool of red, the sky inverting as if it had the power to unzip itself as I float into the great unknown.

I startle back to life as I blink out at the glistening waves off Silent Cove. The weather is lousy for this Fourth of July. If fireworks ensue later, we won’t be able to see them. This summer is a strange one for far more reasons than Paragon’s ubiquitous fog. Even Demetri opted out of his great summer bash, in which he lures the sun to come out and play. He’s been angry, barking at both Wes and me for whatever reason he can find. He’s suggested Wesley’s little FU to the Videns is causing him problems in the heavenlies—something about the Fem infrastructure crumbling like a house of cards. It’s comforting to know in a world where I can’t control a damn thing that even Demetri in all his demented glory has the very same problem. Somehow it makes my world a little less shaky knowing the ground is just as wobbly under everyone else’s feet.

Logan’s backyard—for lack of a better word, is festooned with wisteria filled archways and sprays of flowers just about everywhere you look. If Laken had an elegant floral line leading to the sea, then Bree has outdone her by a perennial blooming mile. It looks as if a florist filled up a truck and dumped its contents wherever the hell it wanted. This is the disarray to Laken’s organization. The chaos to Laken’s calm. The gaudy to Laken’s elegant charm. And that is Bree in a nutshell.

Since Skyla was barefoot at last year’s event, Bree has insisted that all of her bridesmaids show up sans footwear, which is fine since most of the big event takes place on sand. But Bree might have overlooked the fact that Skyla was pregnant last year with her ankles swollen and hidden under waterlogged flesh. Skyla might be back in shape just one year later, but that didn’t stop Bree from outfitting each girl in her wedding party with a maternity gown that resembles the one Skyla wore last year, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear Skyla is wearing the exact same one. She’s cinched it off with a belt, but it still doesn’t do her body justice. The ceremony goes off without a hitch. Nathan and Barron are held by Mia and Melissa and don’t make a peep during the ceremony. Angel is safe in Laken’s arms. And even Wes is here with his dark-haired beauty, Tobie. I can’t help but smile when I see her. I’m sure Sage would have looked just as beautiful.

“This is some party!” Lizbeth squeals as she and Tad waddle by, each with a child attached to their knee. Beau has just turned three, and both Ember and Misty, two. Life seems to be moving at a breakneck speed. Giselle just graduated from West, although she didn’t walk. She still has a few summer courses she needs to complete before it’s official. It’s hard to believe despite all of the wickedness in this world life just stubbornly barrels on.

Lizbeth can hardly catch her breath. “This is such a magical night! It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Drake and Brielle expanded their family by one in just nine short months!”

Tad lets out a garbled cry. “Why’d you have to go and curse a perfectly good evening? There’s all the free seafood we can eat, Lizbeth. Couldn’t you focus on that?”

“Children are a blessing, not a curse.”

“Speak for yourself. The only thing around here that’s a blessing is the fact I get to take home all the leftovers.” He smacks me over the arm. “That’s right Gregory. All the crustaceans we can eat for the next solid month. Nothing but the best for my son.” He gives a wistful shake of the head as if he actually paid for it.

“Speaking of sons—” Lizbeth gets that devious gleam in her eyes that has me searching the crowd for Skyla. “You have two very handsome boys who will be turning one in a matter of months. You must let me plan their party.”

“I’m afraid that’s Skyla’s department.” And mine, but I leave myself out of it for now.

“I won’t take no for an answer.” She rambles on and on, but something in the woods behind Logan’s home has stolen my attention. A dark mist, deep purple in color, slowly morphs into the shape of a very tall man before dissipating into a blanket of mystery. It morphs back into the shape of a man, tall and stately, and if it had eyes, I would bet my life he was looking right at me. He walks down to the shoreline, wading in ankle deep, before turning around and waving for me to join him. A chill runs through my body as I reposition myself so I don’t have to look at him.

Demetri shows up with baby Tobie in his arms, and I feel sorry for the poor thing, so I do the only thing I can. I take her from him and politely excuse myself while Lizbeth gloms onto him, her mouth still going a mile a minute about the boys’ first birthday party.

I head over to Skyla and Logan. He’s holding Angel, rocking her on his hip, and from the looks on their faces, I’ve interrupted a heated exchange. Skyla pauses to glare at him, a look I’m sure he’s unfamiliar with.

“What’s up?”

“Oh my God.” Skyla melts at the sight of Tobie. “Speaking of angels.” She takes the baby from me. “How are you?” She bounces her finger off her tiny nose, and Tobie kicks her chubby little limbs and squeals with delight. “Where is your daddy?” Skyla’s voice breaks. “It kills me that Chloe won’t step up to the plate.” She rests her cheek over Tobie’s dark curls. “Every child deserves a mother.”

Tobie looks up and pats Skyla over the cheek. Their eyes lock over one another as if in that moment a bond had formed. Skyla threw out the maternal invite, and Tobie accepted.

Angel stretches over to her. “Ma Ma.” She grabs a handful of Tobie’s dark hair and yanks her head back with a violent thrust.

“Angel!” Skyla turns Tobie away as she screams bloody murder. “I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay!” Skyla does her best to soothe her just as Wes shows up. Tobie stretches out her arms and screams Daddy through her tears, and it reduces me to cinders. At the end of the day, Wesley is a good father. I don’t think anyone, not even my wife, his enemy, would contest it.

The music starts up, and the makeshift dance floor Logan had constructed down by the shore fills in with Drake and Bree leading the way. The music is slow and moody, and I spot Ellis and Giselle out there, Laken and Coop, Michelle and Liam, and Em and Ethan. Mia and Melissa are dancing with Nathan and Barron. Hell, even Lizbeth and Tad are gyrating with the best of them.

“Go on out there.” Logan gives me a light kick in the back of the leg, and my knee collapses for a moment. “Dance with your wife.” He looks right at me with a softness to him because he means it. “I’ve got an ornery little lady on my hands to contend with. I’ll go see if I can’t sneak her a bite of the cake.”

Angel flaps her arms and gives a squawk of approval. Her pink face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Da Da! Da Da!” she sings, and we share a laugh.

“Don’t you dare feed her sugar.” Skyla presses a kiss to Angel’s tiny lips. “You behave.”

I lead my wife down to the dance floor, and we bury ourselves deep in the crowd beside Bree and Drake on one side, Laken and Coop on the other, and it feels right.

My arms fold over her back, and she pulls me in close with her glowing crystal eyes sealed over mine.

“I love you, Skyla Oliver.”

Her hips grind into mine. “And I love you, Gage Oliver.” She leans up on her tiptoes and presses a heated kiss to my lips. “I’m so thrilled to be your wife. I love our little family. We really do have it all.”

“We do, don’t we?” I give her a little spin, and Skyla bubbles with laughter. Skyla and I dance circles under those stars buried in fog. Brielle changes partners and dances with Ellis, with Logan, with Dudley. But Skyla remains steadfast in my arms. I don’t think I’d bow out if anyone tried to change that.

Bree and Drake take center stage again as they head up to cut the cake—an enormous towering confection that rivals the size of a mid-sized sedan. Bree waves her bouquet at the crowd, and on cue a thousand single girls line up to catch it. She gives it a light toss over her shoulders, and Lex dives for it like a linebacker on her way to the victory line, but it’s Mia who holds it up victorious. Both Skyla and I exchange a glance.

“Any clue who she might choose as the groom?” I give Skyla a light peck over the cheek as I ask.

“I guess it depends what day it is.” She gives a slight frown before looking back up at me and relaxing into a smile. “I sort of wish that music was still going. That was kind of nice. Dancing with my husband happens to be one of my favorite sports.”

I glance around and spot Nathan and Barron in Laken and Coop’s arms. “I think we’ve got the kids covered for a few minutes. How about you and I get lost?”

“I like the sound of that.” She leans in with her lids hooded. “You know I’m still in Kegel hell, and thus insatiably horny. And by the way, I happen to hate that particular word.”

I wince because we both hate it, but we both love it because it means such great things for us. “Follow my lead.” I take her arms and wrap them around my waist as I scoot the two of us behind the wall of shrubbery Brielle erected just for the occasion.

The world melts away, a new one appearing in its place as the white sandy shore gives way to black sand, and our feet touch down on precious Rockaway soil.

“I love it here!” Skyla jumps in my arms as we take in the desolate ebony shoreline. From the distance, we can see the twinkling lights down at Silent Cove, but we can’t hear the music, so I produce my own. The air around us fills with the slow rhythm of a sax as Skyla’s body once again conforms to mine. “Smooth Oliver.”

“I am smooth. I ended up with you, didn’t I?” I dip her backward, and she lets out a scream of delight. “Come here.” I pull her to me, and Skyla floats up on her tiptoes until her mouth is melting over mine. I harness all of my powers until the moon pours a single beam over us like a spotlight. It takes everything I’ve got, but I shield us with my love, placing a banner over us that no government agency can penetrate with the human eye. And then I take it to the next level. I pull Skyla into the heavens with me, Levatio style. How I miss those humble Levatio days, but I wouldn’t trade anything I have now to get them back. Everything that’s happened has molded our destinies, brought us our boys, brought us each other. Skyla is my wife, my life, and I will fight until my last breath, and then beyond to keep her. I’m greedy that way. A simple covenant isn’t enough for what we have. Not any force in heaven—her mother—or any force in hell—my father, can tear us apart.

A crackle of lightning goes off overhead, and a dull laugh rattles through me. I’d like to see them try.

Nope, Skyla and I are an eternal pairing. I feel it deep down in my bones. Skyla brings out the best in me—and the beast. In one quick burst, a pair of wings erupts from my shoulder blades and into the night sky with a span of forty feet between them at least.

Skyla tips her head back and laughs. “Gage Oliver—you are such a showoff! And so am I.” She bows her head a moment, and a burst of white plumes ejects behind her. Soft, bountiful feathers that glimmer an unearthly iridescent shade blossom over her shoulders, and Skyla glows under the light of her wings.

“Damn, you are beautiful.”

She bites down over her smile as she lands a finger to my lips. “Should the King use language such as this?” She shakes her head ever so slightly. “I strictly forbid it.”

“If my queen insists.” I crash my mouth over hers as we float higher and higher to the stratosphere and back, bathing in moonlight, bathing in the warmth of our love.

Right here in this moment, we seal our love forever.