“Skyla!” Gage thunders as I shove Barron into Kate’s arms.

“Go with him,” I hiss as I take off back in the direction of the party—the raid as it had easily transformed into—and just as I’m about to hit the clearing, a body tackles me and sends me reeling on my heels.

I pull back, momentarily blinded by a face full of long dark hair.

“Chloe?” I blink at my new sinister sister. “What the hell?”

“Get back here!” Gage roars with a fury as he snatches me by the wrist.

Chloe’s nostrils flare as she sets those dead eyes over me. “Don’t worry. I’m not letting her go.” She smacks me just shy of my temple. “You nitwit! You’re going to get yourself detained, and then who the hell will help the plight of your people?”

“Our people,” I correct as Gage aggressively leads us back to the thicket where Kate holds two startled babies who look as if they’re about to burst into tears.

“Hold on.” Gage pulls us into a tight huddle, his hot mouth buried over my hair. I watch as the ground of Marshall’s estate turns to ash, and I feel like a coward. I should have fought tooth and nail to get back there.

And do what, Skyla? Chloe asks the question as the world around us transforms into a familiar landscape.

“The Transfer?” I gasp as the gray world comes into focus. The skeletal trees, the parched ground, the deep violet sky, and, of course, the hungry mouth of Wesley’s castle waiting to swallow us whole.

“We’ll be safe here.” Gage ushers us in as if he owns the place, a frightening thought in the least.

“Seemingly so,” I pant, keeping up the pace while taking Barron from Kate’s overloaded arms. She holds tight to Nathan while soaking in the horrors of this monolithic hellhole with wide-eyed wonder. “Chloe, take us to Tobie’s room. We’ll have the boys stay there.” I turn to Gage. “Get Ezrina and bring her here. She can watch the boys, and she’ll be safe as well.”

Gage offers a dry smile as we follow Chloe into the bowels of this slate-walled, slate-floored ode to stone and steel wonder. The entire structure is gothic in nature and the interior motif morbid in style. Instead of your average family pictures running along the hall, Wes has an array of sabers hung precariously as if inviting his guests to arm themselves if need be. And believe me, the need will always be there. It’s safe to say Lex wasn’t asked to work her magic in this hellscape. As much as Lex and I rub each other the wrong way, I’ll be the first to admit she’s got a gift when it comes to outfitting a homey interior. Wes has a gift for outfitting a precarious one.

“The zookeepers’ favorite cage.” Chloe kicks the door open to a docile nursery that looks shockingly familiar.

“Holy—wow, is this my old furniture?” I run straight over to my old canopy bed with its wicker frame and ruffled topper. The covers jerk, inspiring me to jump back while shielding Barron from the boogieman about to leap from my old bed.

A girl sits up, messy golden brown hair, sleepy eyes, and it’s not until she blinks to life do I note the striking resemblance to my good friend. It’s Laken’s knockoff—Kresley Fisher.

“What the hell’s going on?” she moans as if she hadn’t quite caught up on her sleep.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” I growl at her before heading over to the crib and landing Barron inside. “Not only does Wes take advantage of you, but he keeps you stowed away as the nanny.”

Gage takes Nathan from Kate and lands him next to his brother. “Wes is proving to be quite the utilitarian.” He lands a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back.”

I grip his arm as if he were threatening to leave me. “I’m going with you.” I nod to Kate. “Watch the boys. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Chloe can’t be trusted, and neither can that skank on the bed who’s still trying to decipher if this is all a dream.”

Kresley grunts. “I can hear you, Skyla.”

“And ignore her, would you?” I implore poor Kate who has to endure a fate worse than death—time alone with Kres and Chloe. “The boys will be getting hungry soon, but I’m sure Ezrina will know what to do. She’s practically raising Tobie.” I glare at Chloe a moment. “Apparently, motherhood isn’t for everyone.”

Chloe blows a breath through her nostrils. “Hell no to that.”

“I’ll be back soon.” Gage storms out, and I follow him to the doorway. “Skyla, I’m not taking you with me.”

“What?” I hook my arm around his in a lame attempt to protest. “You are taking me, Gage. I have to get back. I need to assess the damage—help whoever I can. Any powers the boys have gifted have all but faded. I need your help to get back to Paragon.”

“You need to be here for the boys.” He steps outside those massive doors and turns to me—his hands lay heavy on my shoulders as if begging me to understand. “As long as I’m alive, Skyla, I’m not letting anything happen to you or our children. It’s dangerous right now. There’s no way in hell I’m taking you back.”

He turns to leave, and I spin him toward me. “Gage! I’m not asking for your permission. You are taking me back. I belong with my people.”

“No,” he thunders a little too loud. “You’re staying with the boys. They need you. Trust me to take care of your people. They are my people, too.”

A million thoughts run through me at once, none of them bode well for my husband. “Then I’ll take myself!”

Gage offers a depleted look my way before glowering upwards, and a thin blue film covers the perennial night sky.

“Holy shit,” Chloe balks with a laugh garbled in her throat. “You just erected a shield of some sort to keep your little wifey in line. I’m not sure if the best day of my life was entering into that covenant with Skyla or this one.”

“I gotta go.” Those dimples of his depress, right along with his spirit.

“No!” My throat rubs raw from ejecting the sentiment. “You will not leave me here. You will not imprison me like I’m some child, like I’m a pet you need to look after. I forbid it.” The words flit out like the sharpened blade of a knife, but Gage merely steps back, evaporating slowly, those glowing blue eyes remain fixed on me and are the last to dissipate.

“Gage! Get back here! You’ll regret this!” My voice shrills so high and loud that the blue film up above warbles under my tyranny. “Oh my God. What have you done?” I can’t catch my breath. “He left me.” My husband defied me. He pulled rank and put a lid on both my powers and me.

“Face it, Skyla”—Chloe chums up next to me, her gaze set on that void Gage left in his wake—“there’s nothing hotter than Gage Oliver telling you to shut up and sit down.”

My blood boils in an instant, but it has nothing to do with Chloe’s ridiculous sentiments. It’s Gage’s ridiculous actions. He very much told me to shut up and sit down.

She huffs a dull laugh. “I bet he’s twice as demanding in bed. I bet he’s more than happy to fill your mouth with his body, and tell you where to sit and how.”

I stagger back a moment, still stunned over the fact my husband saw fit to lock me in a demonic closet. He outright defied me. He pulled rank, and now I’m stuck in the Transfer with both Chloe and Kresley. I turn around to find the ditz in question stomping this way.

Kresley starts a mile a minute with questions, and I’m quick to tune her out, my mind already clawing at the walls trying to get the hell out.

Kate comes up as I head back into the grand room with those eternal flames forever burning bright in the oversized fireplace, that spinning wet world Wes keeps in a megalithic fountain, the granite sphere floating and spinning on a dizzying loop.

“The boys fell right asleep,” Kate whispers. “I’ll go back and stay with them in case they wake up. It’s safe to say they’re a long way from home.”

I offer her a quick embrace. “Thank you. Ezrina should be here shortly.” Surely Gage hasn’t completely lost his fucking mind. He’ll bring her here to keep her out of harm’s way. And he’ll bring me back to Paragon.

I glance over to Chloe. “Don’t just stand there. Put your demented thinking cap on and get me out of this hellhole,” I bark so loud Kate jerks back as if I slapped her. “Sorry.” I wince, speeding to the fireplace as if I’m about to jump in.

“Chill out.” Chloe stomps over. “You have options. Turn down the blonde volume on that panic and fire up those brain cells, will you?”

Kresley jumps in between us with the face of my best friend, and it kills me. Hell, it makes me want to kill her. The flames lick higher as if begging for a treat. “What the hell is going on?” she howls at the two of us. “Is this some kind of a joke? You two can’t stand each other. Wes says if he locked the two of you in a room, one of you wouldn’t come out alive.”

I step in close to the slithering skank until we’re eye-to-Laken-wannabe-eye. “That would be you and me who wouldn’t come out of a room alive. Chloe and I are on the same page. I don’t care what your thoughts are. I don’t give a damn if you approve, disapprove, or want in on the action. What I do with Chloe is my business—and soon you’ll be my business, too. You made a grave mistake, Kresley. Wes is using you, and sadly we both know it. But I will not allow you to run amuck anywhere, in any plane of existence, with that lie embedded on your face—a face you probably can’t stand to look at yourself.”

Her gaze shifts to the floor because she knows it’s true. “It’s none of your business. Wesley still loves me.”

Chloe clicks her tongue. “No, he doesn’t. My God, is this entire room filled with nitwits? Wesley is not in love with you, Kres. You had to knife up your face just to be in the same room with him. He doesn’t even call you by your given name. He calls you Laken.”

My head ticks back a notch at the idea. “If that’s true, it’s beyond sad.”

That horrid scene at the party relives itself in my mind, and my heart ratchets right back up to my throat. “Mother!” I roar to the ceiling. “Demetri?” My voice tears past that shield Gage thought to erect in my honor. I’ll be erecting something in his honor tonight—a cold front.

“That’s my girl.” Chloe offers up a slow clap just as the room begins to shake. The sky outside the window flickers with a warning as the room takes on an eerie translucent glow. “Well, well, it looks as if Glinda the Good Witch is about to pay a visit to the celestial crap house. You’re in for a treat, Laken. You say your mother abandoned you? Wait until you meet Skyla’s mommy dearest. She’ll make you look fondly upon those lonely nights you cried yourself to sleep.”

The room brightens then dims, and lo and behold Candace Messenger appears with her hair lit up like gold floss, her face radiating an otherworldly glow as if she had just seen the face of God.

The ground continues to rumble, quake, and quiver under the weight of my mother’s beauty.

“Stop the shaking!” Kresley panics as she grips the edge of the granite lip that holds the spinning globe, water sloshing to the ground around her.

“Darkness cannot handle the light.” My mother strides past her with her gaze set to mine.

“Skyla.” She closes her eyes a moment, dejected as if my own lowly estate were enough to depress her. “Whatever are you doing here?”

I run up and grip her by the shoulders, that familiar pleasant hum runs through me and soothes me straight to the bone. “I need to get back to Paragon—the feds have taken just about everyone into custody. Everybody is in danger. They have Marshall!” I shake her slightly as if to drive home the point, and her eyes grow wild—so much so that I drop my hands to my sides.

“Sector Dudley can make a mockery of them if he wishes, and he almost always wishes.” She chortles out a laugh as if reliving a memory. “He is a sly one. If anything, I should protect those feds which you speak of, posthaste.” Her lips curve into a nefarious smile before it glides off her face as if it were a cliff. “Why have you summoned me? I was in the middle of teaching Sage the finer points of destiny robbing.” She growls at both Chloe and Kresley. “Some of us here are more familiar with the concept than others.”

“That was meant for me.” Chloe’s eyes round out with the revelation.

I scoff at the thought. “She was talking to Kresley. Although she’s hardly robbing Laken of her destiny.”

My mother pumps a nefarious smile. “Chloe had it right.”

“Knew it. You robbed me!” She glares at my mother as if there would be retribution. Try as she might, Chloe is no match for my mother—a close second, but no match.

My mother gives a hard sniff. “It wasn’t you who was robbed. You were the thief looking to steal a destiny. You were never in line to receive the celestial adulation your black heart desires,” she snaps before looking to Kresley. “And you—don’t blame others for the misfortune that awaits. I had a better way!” My mother bears in hard, her voice hitting volumes I have never heard before.

My heart stills a moment. My mother had a better way for her. It makes me wonder about my own destiny. Here I am sprinting to who knows where—perhaps if I hadn’t taken to rebellion I would have landed where I wanted to be all along—in a better way.

Kresley steps in with a fury raging from her. “Your way didn’t include Wesley!” she roars into my mother’s face so loud her hair blows back.

A choking sound emits from my mother as her hair lights up in a rainbow of citrus hues. She’s on fire right down to the very last follicle. “My, my, someone is feeling rather brave.” She steps in close to Kresley and gives a slight tug at a lock of her hair. “A cheap replica. Is that what you think I’ve decided for you? You are juggling dynamite. You have landed yourself in the perfect storm.” Her eyes flit to mine without a twitch of her head. “You”—there’s an accusatory tone in her voice that I’m not appreciating at the moment—“I charge you with this one. She will try both your patience and your mercy—and perhaps the fabric of your integrity.” Her gaze dips to the floor before she turns fully to face Chloe and me. “Look at the two of you.” She tips her head back as her voice dips to saccharin levels, all of it drenched in sarcasm. My mother hopped up on sarcasm is a very dangerous thing. A dark chortle comes from her because undoubtedly she heard. “Who is writing your story?” she purrs as she heads over and runs a cool finger under my chin. “Is doubt creeping into your heart, my love? Has the Celestra spring come crashing down around you so soon?” She looks to Chloe. “Has the victory you sacrificed for eluded you already?”

I look to Chloe, and my heart thumps hard. Had Chloe been hoping for something outside of our covenant?

“Oh yes, you little thing,” my mother sings through a bubbling laugh. “Skyla,” she trills. My mother bows her head and laughs as she pinches her eyes shut. “My dear Skyla, you never learn—try as you might.” Her eyes shine like shards of glass as she steps in ever so close. “Fight the urge to bow to those who oppress you. Fight the urge to let down your guard and believe in silly words. Rules and laws are frames of perfection—covenants are one in the same. You are still very much mostly human as are those around you.” Her eyes flit to Chloe for the briefest of moments. “Do not relish the downfall of your enemy. It comes with a price.” She bears those crystalline lenses into mine. “And you will rue the day you ever stepped away from my careful guidance.”

“Your guidance?” A sputtering laugh comes from me, and I couldn’t stop it if I tried. “When have you ever guided me? I have been in peril since the moment I stepped on Paragon all those years ago. What have you done with my destiny other than damning me to a life of strife?” Her lips part as if shocked by the audacity—either that or she’s just come to the conclusion that I’m right. “Guide me now, Mother. Guide me back to Paragon. Guide me to my people. Tell me what to do with this nightmare the Steel Barricade has inflicted on us and themselves. The government is insatiable. And we are all in peril.”

She takes in a breath, her hair turning an odd shade of lavender, each follicle alive with its own peculiar light. “That ring.” She glances to my finger, the blue stone that once belonged to the throne of the living God. “Skyla, whose is it?”

I glance to Chloe, although deep down I know. “Melody Winters?” I ask with a childlike curiosity.

“Indirectly.” Her brows rise as if proud of the fact I’ve answered right in partial. “And how would our dear Chloe have swiped this from Ms. Winters’ crooked little finger?”

I look to Chloe for help, but she’s quick to turn her head from me. Chloe denied stealing it. And obviously, she lied. “She stole it. Chloe, you stole it.”

“The ring doesn’t belong to Melody Winters.” Chloe grunts with disgust. “As usual, your mother is taking you down a long and thorny road and wasting the fuck out of everybody’s time. Marlena took the ring from Cassandra Graham and gave it to me.”

Cassandra Graham—I didn’t want to say her name. In truth, I want to forget all about that ratty old dive bar Chloe and I visited last December. That twisted light drive lit a fire line in my life. I look down at the ring as if to confirm my theory.

“And what was the promise Marlena gave you?” My mother curves her palm over Chloe’s cheek, and it looks almost loving. Almost.

Chloe takes a breath as she looks to me. “That it was a portal to getting everything I’ve ever wanted.”

My chest thumps with a quiet laugh. “The only thing you’ve ever wanted was Gage Oliver.” Everything in me freezes. She’s still trying to make him hers. Of course, she is.

Chloe steps toward me. “But I didn’t even think of taking Marlena up on that ring until that night you whispered into my ear by the fire. It was right here in this room, Skyla, just a few short months ago. The night you were betrayed, or so you thought. And when we ended up in England, I knew—it was destiny. It was my time to make my dreams come true.”

Kres steps in as if she were hooked to every word.

My mother takes in a breath, and the room rumbles beneath her feet. “What was it that you said, Skyla?”

The fire calls to me with its bright, beautiful flames as I recall that night. “I said follow me. Unite your power with mine, and I will gift you what your heart desires most.”

“You knew it was Gage.” Chloe shakes her head as she steps in front of the flames.

“And Celestra.” I look to her.

Chloe’s chest bucks with her next breath. “And Celestra. My unity is genuine. I am sick of Wes ramming his big dick into the ass of my people”—she glowers at my mother—“while the powers that be sit idly by, filing down their proverbial nails until they are as dull and useless as they are.”

The walls erupt in flames as fire spreads to the ceiling like a fungus.

“Mother! The boys are here!”

The flames vanish, and not even the smell of smoke remains in their wake.

Chloe steps over to her boldly and stabs a finger into her chest. “Somewhere, some way you fucked up. Marlena told me I was the chosen one. But somewhere along the way, my destiny was ROBBED!”

“Marlena lied,” my mother roars back.

“You lie!” Chloe thunders. The room jolts, and a fissure erupts in the ceiling with a loud rushing tear. “Gage—he was mine.” Her voice breaks with emotion. “He was never meant for Skyla. Our children—they were the only ones I could ever love. And you erased them.” A lone tear races down her cheek. As a mother, my heart demands to break for her, but as Gage Oliver’s wife and mother to those boys Chloe is so anxious to erase, I can’t find it in me. “And now I’m taking back what’s mine.”

Kresley scoffs. “You will never have his heart.”

Chloe’s eyes widen with venom. “And you will never have his brother’s.”

It occurs to me that perhaps my mother and Chloe are talking about two different things. My mother is fixated on the royal lineage that leads to the position I hold, and Chloe, well, Chloe per her usual is obsessing over Gage. My mother intended me for Logan. It was Demetri who intended me for Gage.

“Well”—my mother folds her hands together as if we’ve just concluded a rather amicable meet and greet—“nobody said life would be easy.” She smiles to me as if nothing Chloe said had mattered. “Cassandra Graham should have died hundreds of years ago. Instead, she embodies a girl who should have died in a wreck.”

A girl who should have died in a wreck? Then it hits me. “Cassandra is Melody Winters.” My heart thumps, hard and fast. “Why is she here?” A violent pulse of anger surges through me because I suspect something nefarious waits for me in the answer. If it were the ring, she could have chopped my hand off for it months ago. And who the hell brought her?

“I’m afraid Pandora’s box has been opened, my dear.” She picks up my finger and touches the ring, setting off a beacon of sapphire light flooding throughout the room. “Clean up this mess with the government, Skyla. You’ll know what to do. Keep this ring. Cassandra, Melody, whoever it is that dunce is parading around as these days, has no rights to it. I gifted it to Sector Marshall on his first mission to earth.” Her lips curve at the tips. “It looks as if it found its way to the one I intended to have it all along.” She looks to Chloe. “So, you see, no matter how wide you swerve outside of the bounds of destiny, fate has a way of righting itself.” She turns to leave, and I snatch her back.

“Was Gage intended for Chloe?” My heart bucks as if it were demanding I shut the hell up. How could Gage have ever loved her? And yet my vanity begs I reword the question. How could Gage ever love anyone but me? Gage is mine. His destiny is knit with my own. I know this to be true.

My mother looks from me to Chloe, then back again. “Like I said, destiny has a way of righting itself.”

And in that one sentence, my mother has eviscerated me and enlivened a false hope in Chloe.

Fuck destiny. Fuck fate. Gage and I aren’t going anywhere. He’s never leaving me for Chloe. That’s laughable. I am Mrs. Gage Oliver, and that’s exactly who I will remain.

My mother’s face smooths out, and I shake my head, expecting this mirrored version of me to do the same.

She reaches out and clasps my cheek in her palm. “Skyla Dunamis. That alone is your name. Messenger, Oliver, Dudley—those are earthly window dressings, nothing more than a paper Valentine pinned to a wall, fragile and fleeting, the edges already yellowing with time.”

Her words sting like the scorching of the sun, and I turn my head away, wincing as if she slapped me.

“I’m stopping at Oliver,” I’m quick to inform her. “Gage Oliver to be exact.” I look to Chloe. “It’s a done deal. You and I both know that.”

My mother begins to fade, and a rise of panic rattles me. “Wait! I need to get back to Paragon. They have Angel!”

“Who?” My mother leans in, looking every bit confused.

“My daughter! The one you dropped onto my lap like a sack of potatoes on your last visit!”

“Angel?” she moans as her form quickly dissolves. “Really, Skyla, that’s so achingly generic.”

“It’s a placeholder,” I say under my breath, no louder than a whisper because what I really fear is there will be no place to hold as far as Logan and I go—and it makes me feel like a monster.

“There will be.” My mother dissipates to nothing. “Destiny has a way of righting itself.”

I would never let anything happen to her. My mother’s voice rings through my ears alone. I am not a monster, and neither are you, Skyla Dunamis. Now go and save your people.

The room around me quickly morphs into that of the Landon house with both boys in their rightful cribs. Chloe lounges on my bed, filing her nails into needle sharp points, and Kate sits beside her, looking bewildered and frightened.

I’m back on Paragon—and now both Gage Oliver and the feds will have hell to pay.

On the way to Marshall’s, I spot a fallen tree at the entry to the Estates, and it pains me, panics me on some level as if Paragon itself is struggling under the weight of the devastation this afternoon brought with it. I had my mother watch the boys and charged Chloe with making sure Kate got home safe. I drive by the property slowly and deliberately, noting a bevy of cars still parked haphazardly around the periphery the way they were when I arrived. The door to his home is agape, and I can see the dark hole of the interior looking lonely and haunted. The government had ripped my people from Marshall’s yard like savages. They stormed Paragon, my Paragon, like animals. They can’t have the people. They can’t have the island. I love this bitter rock almost as much as I love my people, and I want those bastards gone.

I speed on by Marshall’s home as if I never knew it, as if I never knew him, in order to divert suspicion in the event they’re watching. And they wouldn’t be watching if it wasn’t for Wesley. He’s the one that called their attention to us. He’s the one who scattered the food they were so hungry for along the four corners of the earth, and, of course, he was the one who welcomed poor Moser and Killion with open arms last year. Wesley Edinger is the nexus of this disaster. It’s almost laughable that I saw them take him first.

I’ve decided it’s too risky to call or text anyone I know. I’m sure confiscating cell phones is rudimentary business. No. There’s only one person I wish to speak with at the moment, and that is Gage Oliver. But where to find him? Ironically, if I text or call my own husband, he might be furious with me for escaping that hell he imprisoned me in. But I keep driving down that silver tongue of Paragon road because deep down I’ve known all along where I’m headed—Demetri’s. I roll up to his pop-up mansion and pull out my phone, staring at it, wondering who in the hell wasn’t at that party that might be able to help me, and then it hits me. Brody. I send a quick text letting him know we’ll be meeting later before heading up the long winding driveway. No sign of Gage’s truck, which doesn’t surprise me. His father isn’t his first choice of alliances to draw upon when the going gets tough. He’s not mine either, but I have questions, and he has answers.

I give a brisk knock before walking in. “Anyone home?” My voice booms throughout the cavernous mausoleum. I still remember that horrible room upstairs, the Fem trophy room. Its walls are adorned with hideous clown heads and creatures that have no earthly relatives, and I’m sure Demetri had a literal hand in decapitating them.

“Demetri?” I stalk into the grand room and find him seated facing the fire, a puff of smoke swirling to the ceiling as he enjoys a cigar. Figures. Rome is burning, and Demetri is sitting around with a fat stogie in his crooked mouth. He turns my way with that forever-wicked grin and opens his arms.

“My favorite daughter-in-law. To whatever do I owe the pleasure?”

“Please. The feds took half the island to who knows where and Wes is in that number.”

“The twins?” His head cocks as if maybe he doesn’t have a clue.

“They’re with my mother. The one you love.”

“My Lizbeth.” That greasy smile returns to his face.

“Yes, well, I need your help. What’s happened to my people, and how can I get them back?”

He lets out a tired puff of smoke and extinguishes the fat stick in his hand. “They’re coming home. But they’ve been tagged. They will be watched. This is a tragedy unfolding.” His dark eyes meet with mine. “However will you avert this from exploding in the faces of every Nephilim on earth? They are mere moments from discovering the marker present in your people.”

A breath hitches in my throat. “I can’t let that happen.” I look to him with fear and desperation. I need the truth from this demon and so much more than that. “Has Wesley secured the Barricade? Are they impervious? Has he found a way to hide the markers permanently?”

“No.” His grin widens before it collapses. “But let us not forget the dead.” He holds out his hand as if asking for mine, and surprisingly I give it. Demetri’s hands are coarse and calloused, thick and welcoming as untanned leather. “Skyla, you must see what they’ve done to the dead.”

In a moment we’re transported, walking the halls of an unnamed lab. The white walls are reminiscent of Ezrina’s old stomping grounds—but the smells, the stale looking laminate on the floor, dehydrated from years of neglect and wear, inform me this is a strictly human facility. Ezrina would rather gouge out her own eyes and drink them down in a smoothie than work somewhere so unhygienic.

“So this is where the dead are,” I marvel mostly to myself.

“Raven’s Eye, just a stone’s throw from Host. But this is where they’ll remain while they have breath in their lungs.” He nods left and leads me into a vast facility, and as soon as my eyes absorb what’s happening, I stop short of breathing myself.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. Settled around me are a group of men, each in his own confinement cell, each with bloodied faces, fingernails missing from their hands, one of them lies on a bed with wires coming from every limb and orifice, his mouth agape as he lies unconscious. “No,” I whisper as I touch over the bars. “I can’t bare it.”

“You should, and you will.” Demetri moves me along, his cool hand still clamped over mine. “If not but for the grace of God, there go you and yours.”

“Understand,” I say it under my breath. An incomplete thought that encompasses all of the horror this moment has to offer. I get it. I do. This could very well be my people. And if not for these brave, sweet souls, it would be. And now that we’ve been incarcerated in such a great number tonight, it will be. “Take me back,” I pant, but Demetri leads me deeper into the facility, past rows of countless cells, each filled with the sobbing and moans that only deep anguish and pain can produce. “I never thought they’d be inhuman. I never thought they’d dismember, dissect.”

“They have, and they will.” He sniffs. “All of these once dead souls are crying out for mercy. Their cry has risen to the throne, Skyla. Even the Master is imploring you to put an end to their suffering. Can you think of a way?” Demetri’s never-ending grimace preens for my attention.

“A way to end their suffering and not begin that of my people? Oh my God.” I bury my head in my hands a moment and envelop myself in a haunting darkness, reminiscent of the twisted fingers of Paragon’s most hellish woods, the color red staining in the backdrop. Moser and Killion… “I have it.” I spring up for air, the light of this horror far too bright. “Take me back to Paragon—back to Gage. I know exactly what I have to do.”

Demetri laughs, dark and rumbling, thick with evil. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

The world around us softens, but I force these horrid halls into my memory. I stain the inside of my mind with the blood that’s been shed. These people—my people are being tormented alive. It’s not what I intended. It’s not how it should be.

It’s the tunnels all over again. And ironically, that’s exactly where I’m taking Gage once I find him.

The lawn in front of the Paragon Police Department is flooded with people bolting—escaping from the facility into waiting cars and vans. Although presumably they’re not escaping. They’ve been tagged as Demetri suggested, only to be toyed with at a later date.

“They’re free.” I let out a breath of relief, only to find I’m shy one Fem by my side. Figures. He knew so much. Demetri is a retired detective. Everything that describes Demetri in earthly terms requires air quotes.

I spot Gage and Logan off on the south end of the property and bolt over.

“Logan!” I crash over him with an embrace that not even death could cut through. “Thank God. What happened? What made them turn everyone loose?” I glance at the crowd for familiar faces. Those pens at Raven’s Eye were full. It makes sense that they’ve opted to take names and kick ass later.

Logan glances to Gage briefly. “They didn’t let everyone go.”

“God, they’re holding Marshall? I mean, not that it worries me. Marshall can hold his own.” A thought comes to me. “Wait, are they holding Wes? God, this is beautiful!” And just like that, all of the anger I had toward Gage evaporates. Wesley’s incarceration covers a multitude of sins.

“No.” Gage pulls my hands forward and clasps his fingers over mine hard as if stopping me from pulling away before I ever try. “They have Laken”—he winces—“Ellis, Tobie, and Angel.”

“Angel,” her name strums from me numbly, and Logan pulls me in by the waist.

“A handful of others.” Logan glares at the facility behind me. “Last night—Casey wouldn’t answer. Her dreams, they were—gone.” He looks over at Gage and me as if surprised on some level.

“You think she’s dead?” My throat constricts at the thought of those monsters hurting a single hair on her head. “God, I never thought they’d be so cruel, so swift with their deranged experimentation.” But a part of me decries the idea. Of course, I did. We expected death. Did we honestly believe they’d let them rot for years in those cages? Yes, a very real part of me did believe just that.

“I didn’t either.” Logan grimaces. “But there’s not a whole lot we can do.”

Gage gives my hand a tug, demanding that I look at him, a sheepish apology already flirting with his lips.

My eyes sharpen over his as the fury builds in me. “How dare you leave me behind like some helpless kitten.”

“Skyla.” He implores me with that desperate tone. “The boys needed you.”

“My people needed me. My daughter needed me. The boys slept through the whole ordeal.”

“Because I got you the hell out of there.” He leans in, and I can tell my opposition frustrates the living hell out of him. As his does mine.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” I pluck my hands free. “You are not my master. You may never incarcerate me against my will no matter what the circumstances. I am the one charged to keep my people safe—one of which is you. You may never defy me again. I absolutely forbid it.”

Logan flinches as if he were suddenly a third wheel. “Hash this out at home, kids. We need a solution right now. No matter what—my daughter is getting out tonight.”

“I agree.” The brief tour with Demetri runs through my mind. “And that’s why we’re going to take care of this right this fucking minute.” I look up at my husband. “We’re going to Tenebrous.”

“Tenebrous?” Gage steps back, the storm clouds already brewing in his eyes.

“We’re feeding the feds the Videns.” I look to Logan. “You and I will free the rest.”

Logan searches the vicinity as if seeking out an answer. “I’m in. I’m willing to storm Raven’s Eye, but how the hell are we getting those cells to open up? I’m not sure if our strength will be enough. They know what we’re capable of, and I’m sure they’ve taken precautions.”

“Stop.” Gage cuts the air with his hands. “Nobody is touching the Videns.”

“I am,” I’m quick to inform. “They feel nothing. My people feel pain. They’re virtually indestructible. They’ll occupy the government for years and fill ten facilities the size of Raven’s Eye. We’ll flood them with hundreds, two for each of the dead, and then we’ll slowly feed them the rest. If this works, we can keep the government off our asses for decades. It’s an easy and necessary fix.” My breathing is labored, my nostrils flaring with every other word because everything in me knows this will be anything but easy. Gage is the Videns’ leader. Of course, there will be some resistance, but he has to agree. I’m right on every count.

“No.” He pulls me in gently. “Skyla”—those dark brows of his knot with worry—“I’ve promised their families I’d keep them safe, that I’d get Ezrina to work on restoration.”

“She can’t restore them. She’s tried. She’s not capable. Not yet, anyway. It’s not happening. Gage we need them. They’re our only hope.”

The cords in his neck distend as he tries to digest this. “Let the volunteers finish their assignment.”

“No!” both Logan and I say in unison.

His eyes sharpen over mine in a manner I never want to grow accustomed to.

“Why are you glaring at me?” My voice is curt and tight as I step in close to my husband as if I were about to deck him, and I’m tempted as hell.

“Because those are my people and you’re trying to undercut me.”

A stillness rises between us, nothing but the heavy sound of our breathing.

“You are my subject, Gage. You are my people. I am the one in authority around here, and I need to do what is best.” Our eyes remain locked in an incredulous stare with neither of us backing down—the both of us in disbelief. “Look”—I cup my palm over his cheek—“I know this is hard for you. And I’m sorry you’ve promised your people their loved ones back, but they belong to the Barricade. This is their game, Gage. And in this round, they lose.”

“No—not the Spectators, Skyla. You can’t have them.” His eyes widen with horror.

Logan holds a hand out between us as if I were about to throw a fist at my husband, and I might.

“Gage”—my voice comes out husky and anguished—“I’m sorry, but this is happening.”

“Hey!” a male voice calls from the side, and we look to find Brody Bishop jogging over. “I heard what happened.” He nods my way. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going to Tenebrous.” I look to Gage, to those startled eyes I love so deeply. “You can come with us or you can stay here, but this is happening tonight.”

“Shit,” he says under his breath, and before I can determine how pissed he might be, a familiar looking Sector rises behind him.

“Marshall!” I land over him in a hard embrace and soak in every good vibratory sensation. “You’re coming with us to Tenebrous.”

“Perfect.” He glowers at the facility behind me. “Let the retribution be quick and swift. I’ve a home to tend to.”

I glance to Gage. “It will be quick and swift. The torment of my people ends tonight. Where’s Coop? I know he’d want to be a part of this.”

Logan shakes his head. “He’s in the back. It’ll be an hour at least until they process him.”

“We can’t wait. We have to leave now.”

Logan closes his eyes. “Skyla, your passion is great, but we need to figure out how to get the cells opened to set the people free. Gage can’t be in every cell at once to teleport the dead. We’ll only have minutes to complete the mission.”

“The cells will open. Fire is greater than passion.”

Surely the cells at Raven’s Eye will open for the flames.

But judging by that furious look in my husband’s eyes, his heart will not.

Tenebrous greets us with long forlorn branches draped over the open road, creating a tunnel of darkness, open arms filled with thorns, a charred grin as if ready to offer a necrotic embrace.

Gage dips a kiss to the crease in my neck. “We need to talk.” The others head for the holding tanks, but Gage pulls me toward the stone of sacrifice. And I go willingly since I’m not looking to turn this into the tornado that takes down our marriage.

“I know what you’re going to say.” I step up on the circular stone, and he does the same. It’s only a few feet off the ground, and yet it has the power to make Tenebrous, all of existence, seem diminutive while standing on its unholy granite. There is power on this stone, around it, through it, whether I like to admit it or not. The blood that was shed here has made it so. “And no, I cannot change my mind.”

“You must.” He cups my cheeks as if my face were blown glass. “Skyla, I looked those people in the eye and said I’d protect their loved ones. I can’t just do a one-eighty and feed them to the government. That’s not how I operate. That’s not who I am.”

“Well, I can’t let my people suffer. That’s not how I operate. That’s not who I am. Besides, our friends—our daughter is in there.”

He blinks back as if I’ve hit below the belt.

“Let me get them,” he pleads. “I will find a way. I’ll free them tonight.”

I pull back, ready to leap from the stone and get the morbid show on the road. “Getting them is not enough. If we free the dead, then the feds will come for those they captured and tagged this afternoon. We need a diversion. One that will assure the Nephilim peace. Only the Spectators can provide it. Once the feds find real live zombies on their doorsteps, they won’t care that a few alien beings slipped through the net. In the hierarchy of chaos, zombies win every single time. We can buy peace—something that simply freeing the dead will never achieve.” Now it’s me pleading with him. “Side with me, Gage. You don’t belong to the Barricade. You belong to me.”

His Adam’s apple rises and falls, and already I know what his decision is. Our lives flash before my eyes—our short marriage, which I hope to God drives out straight through the second coming. I don’t want death for Gage or me. I don’t want our union to ever come to an end. I think of the two of us entwined in our bed back at the Landon house—the very house he’s so desperate to escape from. I think of those blissful nights lying naked with our infant sons draped over our chests. We were so frustrated with our lives at that point, wanting freedom that only money could buy, wanting to finish our education, our own place, the money to fix up our own place—we were at the apex of our happiness, and we didn’t even realize it. And here, life had taken a hairpin turn with Gage opposing my wishes, me opposing his.

“Skyla”—he calls out as if I were clear across the universe, and our gaze solidifies over one another, hopeful that whatever comes next unlocks the key to our shared frustration—“do not do this.” His voice shakes, and it’s hard to tell if it’s with rage or hurt, probably both. “I forbid it.”

There it is, the dare I threw him earlier. And now he’s hurled it right back at my feet.

A dull laugh dies in my chest. “We can’t seem to forbid one another to do a damn thing.” I head back through the woods, alone, feeling his void as heavy as a mountain, and it kills me. Then, as if eager to fill it, Gage appears by my side, his irritation nearing a boiling point as we make our way to where the others stand with Ingram Prendergast. Marshall, Logan, and Brody—the three of them hover over Ingram’s glowing notebook, where he has the Videns listed and organized right down to their eye color. Ingram is anal that way.

“Marshall.” I pull him aside as Gage heads over to peer at Ingram’s notebook.

“Ms. Messenger.” His intense crimson gaze sears me as if he can smell my fear. “Gage said he promised the Videns he’d keep the Spectators safe. Help me.”

“Help you? Skyla, how many other solutions are at your disposal?”

“None, and I’m not even sure if this is one of them. How can I save my people, occupy the feds, and help Gage keep his promise?”

His chest bucks with a laugh. “Don’t forget to feed the starving and shelter the homeless. Throw in a wild night with yours truly while you’re at it. So many things to do, so little time.”

“Point taken. I can’t solve every problem.”

“But you can solve a few.”

I take in a quivering breath as if I’ve just had a good cry, and I wish I had. “I can save the dead, send them back to paradise, save my baby”—my throat constricts because I don’t want to send her anywhere but in my arms—“and lead the government right to the Spectators.”

“It sounds as if you’ve met with your solution.” He offers a peaceful smile. “And now that my work is done, I must leave. The Justice Alliance frowns upon the commingling of Sectors in Faction business. I can’t help you, Skyla. My tattered home awaits.”

“Thank you for everything.” I pull him into a tight embrace. That loving feeling strums through him, straight down to my bones, and I drink in the small taste of paradise before heading straight into hell. “You’re always there for me.”

“It’s an easy assignment.”

“One more thing.” I hold up the ring on my finger that Chloe gave me, and he frowns. “My mother told me about the history of this ring. It looks as if it finally made its way to me.”

Marshall lifts the ring and lands his lips over it. “I had dreamed of gifting it to you when the time was right. I suppose Ms. Bishop beat me to the punch.” His features darken. “Be careful with this, Skyla. It could mean life or death.”

“So I’ve noticed.” That conversation in the Transfer comes back to me. “She also said my name was Skyla Dunamis.” I can’t even believe I’m entertaining my mother’s anti-Oliver rant. “What do you think that means?”

“Skyla Dunamis.” Marshall’s countenance radiates when he says it as if my new moniker had the ability to sharpen his comely features. “It means the miraculous power of the living God. And that’s exactly what resides in you—the miraculous power of the living God.”

“Wow.” I try to absorb what this might mean. “Any other words of advice?”

“Yes.” He brushes my cheek with his thumb and dives in quickly. Before I know it, Marshall’s lips are over mine, and just as I’m about to pull away, I see it. A sign reads Raven’s Eye Government Facility. My attention is drawn to a man punching in a code, 4562. I pull back, breathless, and blink up at him in awe. Marshall helped me. He gave me what I would need to infiltrate those wicked grounds—a Sector commingling with Faction business. “Thank you,” I whisper. And just like that, he’s gone.

I head over to the testosterone huddle, and the entire lot of them looks up at me at once. “It’s time. There’s no going back.” I look to Gage and nod. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” His dimples invert with a frown. In all of the turbulence that has plagued our short union, this one feels like an unscalable wall that we’re suddenly faced with. God knows I would cut through iron bars, destroy gates of bronze to please my husband, but here, in this dark place, there is no amicable solution. “Brody, you’ll go with Gage. Logan, you’ll come with me.” I don’t dare meet with my husband’s eyes. The last thing we need is an argument breaking out between us and launching the entire mission to hell. “Gage—we need you to teleport us back along with the dead.” The words hardly crest the painful lump in my throat. “Ingram, you’ll release the Spectators to me in batches. I’ll have Chloe lead authorities to them just like she did the dead.”

“Sounds good,” Brody is the first to declare. He sets his hand out between us. “The Retribution League lives another day.”

“Amen to that.” I land my hand over his, and Logan does the same.

“To beautiful retribution.” Logan looks to me. “And to getting our daughter back safe.”

We break as we take up one another’s hands, ready to transport to Raven’s Eye, and all I can think of is the fact Gage didn’t join our friendly hand tap. He’s a part of the team, but he doesn’t support what we’re doing. Gage hasn’t taken the throne, and already we’re in direct opposition. Tears form in my eyes as Tenebrous fades to nothing.

Demetri is already pulling us apart.

A cloak of darkness surrounds us as midnight quickly creeps upon us. The ocean roars in the distance as the fog crawls over the island with its elongated fingers. A baby-faced moon sits full and high, thinly veiled, as if the fog itself were willing to expose our efforts.

Raven’s Eye is small in comparison to the island we call home—round in shape when juxtaposed to Paragon’s oblong physique. The waves crash over its borders with a marked aggression, threatening to swallow it whole, to submerge it from every angle. And all of that I’ve surmised in the thimble of an airborne moment Gage afforded us.

We land hard on our feet right in the bushes near the old iconic looking facility with its tall iron gates and impenetrable charm. If we knew where to go inside—a place we wouldn’t get caught—caught on the security cameras, I would have had Gage transport us directly in the heart of this disaster. But according to Logan, it’s a well-oiled machine with electronic eyes everywhere you turn.

“The fire?” Logan shakes his head as if we’ve made a misstep before we ever set foot on the facility.

“Gage will provide the fire.” I look up at his sturdy build, his smile flickering ironically like a candle who won’t take a flame. “Breathe your fury all over this place.” I give an unsteady nod. “We’ll need lots of smoke. A wall of white to shield us. And I’ll need the security cameras disabled. We’ll split up in pairs.”

Brody shakes his head. “That’s easy. I’ll go first. Give me five minutes. I’ll rewind the system by a half hour. They won’t have a clue shit just hit the fan.”

I whisper the code to Brody who heads to the gate as if he owns the place.

Gage leans in, touching his lips to mine, his eyes watching me lazily. “Let me go in with you. Logan can go with Brody. We’re a team, Skyla, you and me.”

My mouth opens, unsure of which direction it wants to head in, just as Brody comes back.

“Fucking easy.” He nods to Gage. “We’ll take the east wing. Clock’s ticking. If we’re not out with everyone in less than seven minutes, we won’t be going anywhere. No cell phones. They can trace us right back here.” Brody takes off, and Gage steps back, his silence pleading with me before he sighs, closes his eyes, and heads out after Brody.

“Come here.” Logan takes up my hand and lands a kiss to the back of it. “It’s time to get our daughter.”

Logan leads us through a narrow corridor that follows a marked path that leads into the main facility, and we head west under the banner of barbed wire and signs that read Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.

I’m authorizing us. I give Logan’s hand a squeeze. We make our way closer, only to find a set of glass doors sealing the entry.

Retina entry. He nods to the security panel to the left of the entrance.

The doors burst open with an explosive boom as a man in a janitorial uniform barrels his way out while wheeling a large waste bin. He bucks and kicks, trying to get his behemoth contraption to mind him, leaving the doors flapping in his wake like a dying fish. We wait until he turns the corner, and Logan jams his shoe in the door before it seals itself shut. He pulls me in, and I trail him like a kite. Logan moves us swiftly through the facility he’s memorized in his sleep, quite literally.

I don’t know where she is, Skyla. He gives my hand a squeeze.

For a minute I think he’s talking about Angel, but his gaze is fixed on an empty room with its glass doors swung open. The tiny room holds only a metal bed and a toilet, not a stitch more.

This was her room. He takes in a quivering breath, the pain, all of his anguish unleashing into the world with that single sigh. Casey is gone. She must be dead.

My arms wrap themselves around the girth of his body. Let’s get the others, Logan. Let’s do it for her.

An alarm screams overhead as the lights blink on and off manically. Smoke sweeps by like an army of ghosts speeding out of hell, and my entire body enlivens with adrenaline.

I squeeze his hand to the bone. It’s show time.

Logan leads us as we trail the smoke floating over our heads, ready to press over us like a lid sealing in our airless fate. In a moment, we’re in the hall of horror, each cell filled with the weary look of despair. A red light blinks on above each and every cell, and just like that, the faces of those once dead light up with hope they never knew was coming as the cell doors magically swing open. The feds might want to keep my people prisoners, but it needs to adhere to fire codes nevertheless.

Logan and I run from cell to cell shouting, guiding the prisoners to the route to freedom. There is no time to waste.

A pair of gentlemen emerges from one of the confinement units, Frank and Graham, the Smite brothers, and they look to the two of us.

“What’s happening? What about the assignment?”

“It’s over,” I pant. “Your duty here is done.”

Frank lets out a harrowing howl, a yodel that sounds more like code than it does a primal release, and a stampede rushes by, an entire cluster of bodies as the dead all press their way to the exit at once.

“What was that?” Logan lets out a dry laugh as he ushers them to the exit.

Graham winks over at us as the throngs rush past. “Let’s just call it the Sampson option.”

“You had a plan.” I bite down the urge to cry. “Get to the entry. Gage and Brody will lead you to safety. We’ll meet you in Tenebrous.”

“The tunnels.” Graham’s face grows white. “We trust you.”

And just like that, the room clears of people and fills with smoke.

“Angel and Tobie.” I panic as I rush from cell to cell. “Ellis? Laken?” I give Logan’s arm a squeeze as the smoke starts to blanket the vicinity. “Do you see them?”

“No.” Logan’s eyes grow wild with panic, and that alone is enough to send me through the roof with alarm. We head out further and come to a hall that splits in two different directions—the smoke pushing in thick, driving every living being out of its path. “I’ll go right. You go left.” He grips me hard by the shoulders, his gaze penetrating mine. “Do not die on me, Skyla. Do a quick scan. If you don’t see them, get out. Gage and Brody most likely have them. Get on the floor if you need to. You won’t do your boys or your people any good if you’re dead.”

I press a hard kiss to his lips before bolting the hell away from him. I’m not leaving until I’m sure there’s not a soul left back here. The room opens up to a larger facility, an operating room of some sort, and I’m distinctly reminded of Ezrina’s chop shop. The smoke hisses past me like a snake, and in seconds the room is filled with billows of life-choking clouds that force me to breathe in my sleeve. My lungs refuse its strangling fumes as I begin to choke and gag. I fall to the floor and take a quick breath, the smoke still a foot over my head. I’ve got less than a minute before I need to get the hell out. Logan is right. I won’t do my boys or my people any good if I’m dead. A narrow door up ahead catches my attention, and I army crawl over as fast as I can. The room is dark, the smoke lies thick, sinking ever so closer to the ground, and it leaves me sucking the floor for my next breath. Then I hear it, the sharp, anguished wail of an infant. I crawl forward and spot a glass enclosure in the wall across from me with a red-faced babe screaming her head off, pounding over the glass in hopes anyone will see her—Tobie.

“Tobie,” I choke out her name as I inch closer, but a rattle from farther down the room captures my attention, and I spot another set of tiny hands wailing against a glass enclosure of their own. I recognize that tiny blonde head of hair pitching wildly about before sitting down and weeping without a thread of hope. And then she sees me.

“Ma Ma!” she wails, pounding the glass, crying, hitting her head against the wall in sheer panic.

“Oh my God.” I take a deep breath and rise to my feet. The smoke grows ever so thick, and in a moment, I’ll lose sight of them. The girls are each an equal distance away, fifty feet in either direction at least. I need to go left or right, Tobie or Angel. The three of us have seconds of air left. I need to get one now before they both perish, but my God, how will I ever save both? Horrifically, I realize there is only hope for one.

Red, angry flames shoot in and race across the ceiling as if the facility were doused with flammables—as if the fire itself were taunting me to choose.

“Angel,” I call out and choke myself back down to the floor. I suck in another lungful and bounce to my feet. Left or right. Chloe or Skyla. Tobie or Angel. God help me, I’ve ensnared myself in paralysis by analysis.

Shitshitshit!

And just like that, the room is white with a smoke so thick it sits over you like a blanket. Robed in white—I can’t tell which way is up—which way is Tobie, which way is Angel. But my gut knows. I know the path to them both. The fire swirls and roars, and the smoke clears enough to create one last visual of the room.

Time seems to still as I look to Tobie with her desperate pleading—no mother would come to rescue her. I look to Angel, my Angel, my flesh and my bones, my love child with Logan. She has the very breath of God in her miraculous lungs before the union of her parents ever came to be. She is so very loved, so very wanted. She is a light to this aching wet world. She owns my heart. She owns Logan’s. I’m sure she is so very vital to the Factions, to humanity, to my mother. And that’s when I know what I have to do. I glance over to Angel as she screams Ma Ma through anguished tears, her face wrinkled in horror as she begins to gag and thrash. But my feet drift in the opposite direction. In a burst of fury and rage, with a wild scream locked in my throat, I burst through the door penning in Tobie and scoop her scorching, bucking body in close to mine. Tears stream down my face, hot and heavy, as the flames race to the other side of the room, Angel’s cries roaring wild like that of cat in agony. And in a moment, the room lights up ethereal blue. A violet shadow in the familiar shape of my mother swoops toward my baby, and just like that, Angel and Candace Messenger are no more. My chest bucks with pain as I press my lips together to keep from crying out. I wrap myself around Tobie with all my strength and get the hell out of there. I chose the girl that nobody would have come for, and in doing so I lost my daughter—perhaps forever.

The room floods with flames as we make our way to the narrow door, the smoke too thick to see through. I land us both on the floor and grope for walls, for something familiar that might lead us out of this hell in the right direction. But soon, I’m left groping at nothing but air, the smoke crushing down to the floor, the heat too hot to bear. My lungs ache as I struggle for my next breath, and Tobie claws at my chest as if doing the same. My body bucks as my lungs seize. This is it. I’ve done this to myself with those wasted moments of indecision, and now both Tobie and I will die. The flames circle around me, the smoke lies over us like a casket as my last breath leaves my lungs.

And then like a dream, a light shines over me, a body lands softly over mine, over Tobie, and the room melts away to nothing.

On a good day, Tenebrous smells like the armpit of a sweaty wrestler, but this day, this moment, Tenebrous is delivering the sweetest perfume—air, sweet, albeit pungent air.

Tobie sucks in such a violent breath, and it sounds like a whistle. Her little body grows rigid before loosening as a wailing cry extinguishes from her lungs.

“Tobie!” Wesley roars, wasting no time in snatching her from my arms, and I can’t blame him. I would have done the same if the roles, the children, were reversed. “Shit,” he pants over her as he peppers her with kisses. “Thank you, Skyla. My God, thank you.” He pulls me into a hard embrace, his face buried in my neck a moment, and it’s an odd feeling, considering this is Tenebrous, the very location Wesley drained me of my blood to strengthen his powers not so long ago. That’s the only reprieve we’ve been given in this new war. Celestra blood isn’t in demand the way it used to be. Thankfully.

“You’re welcome.” I look past him as Gage carefully extracts me and pulls me back into the safety of his arms where I belong—where I’ve always belonged and always will. “And thank you for saving me—all of us.” I glance past him at the dead reunited, sharing their war stories as a badge of honor. There is laughter and joy and not one ounce of pain, and my heart is full again.

Logan comes up fast with his face piqued with color, his eyes rife with worry. “Where is she?”

“Logan.” I shake my head. “I’m so sorry.” I close my eyes a moment before looking to Tobie as she smiles up at her father. The love in Wesley’s eyes lets me know I made the right decision. I tell Logan and Gage what happened, reducing those terrible agonizing moments into less than a couple of simple sentences.

“Come here.” Logan wraps his arms around me in love. “I’m sorry you had to make a decision like that.” He pulls back, holding me steady by the shoulders. “I want you to know that you made the right one.”

“Angel is safe.” Gage wraps his arm around my waist. “Your mother wouldn’t have rescued Tobie. There was no other choice to make.”

Laken and Ellis come up, both looking slightly shaken yet furious at the circumstances, and we share a quick embrace.

“Where is she?” Laken’s features crumble as if she’s already surmised the worst, and I tell her quickly, assuring her there was no other way.

Ingram helps to give the resurrected water to drink and encourages them to settle in the building behind us for respite. Soon, my mother will be here to transport them back where they belong—bodies in the ground, spirits in the sky.

One by one they come by and thank me for the opportunity to serve, for the rescue they weren’t expecting. They look at me like I’m some sort of a hero, and I don’t feel that way at all. To the Videns—who are essentially my people, despite the fact they chose to side with the Barricade—I am for sure no hero. Soon, I’ll be a devil.

The bulk of the dead vanish into the building behind us where some of these very people lost their lives to begin with. A fresh, familiar face comes barreling at me with an ear-to-ear grin.

“Casey!” I fall over her with a hearty embrace. “Where were you? Logan said your cell was empty!”

“It was.” She steps back and makes a face. “I decided I was lonely, and they let me stay with the mean girls.” She glances back at a trio of brunettes, and I smile because I know them all and love them. “It turns out they’re not so mean after all. We have a ton in common. It looks as if I’ve made a few new eternal friends.”

I nod with a laugh. “I suppose lifelong would be too short.”

We get lost in a quick group hug as Logan and Gage join in on the effort. Before too long, the last of the dead are making themselves at home, and all feels right with this twisted world.

Pierce comes up, and I embrace him without hesitating.

“Dude, that was no joke. I’m glad you stepped in when you did. As much as any of us wanted to serve, it was a tough pill to swallow.” He starts to head toward the building, and I pull him back.

“No, wait. You should come back to Paragon and say goodbye. I’m sure my mother will be by soon to take both you and Kate home.”

“Paragon?” His eyes light up like a little boy at Christmas.

“Yes, Nat would kill me if I denied her the right to say goodbye.”

“Thanks, man.” He pulls me in and swings me around. “I’d better say goodbye to a few of the folks here real quick.” He takes off toward the building.

I look to Ellis and Laken. “What about Emerson and Holden? Were they taken with you?”

“No,” Logan answers for them. “They took off. They were never arrested.”

“Useless per usual. But I’m glad they’re safe.” I look to Gage and press my lips together until they’re white as paper. “It’s time to initiate the rest of the plan.”

Brody comes up, breathless. “We did it.” He offers up a high five my way, and I take him up on it. “Now what?”

“Go back to Paragon. Get your sister. I’ll meet you both at Devil’s Peak in an hour, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Will do.”

Gage walks him over to the woods and transports him home.

Laken leans in and hooks my loose hairs behind my ear. “I’m proud of you, Skyla. You did great. You are a wonderful leader. I’m glad you’re mine.”

“Thank you. Coop was still being processed or I’m sure he would have come. We couldn’t wait.”

“And I’m thankful you didn’t.”

“Same here, Messenger.” Ellis offers a quick pat over my back. “I mean Oliver. What else can I do for you?”

“Go home and comfort Giselle. I’m sure she misses you.”

He offers up a quick salute and heads to the woods just as Gage appears again.

Laken shakes her head at me, her eyes cloud over with worry. “Skyla, they took Ellis and me to their facility because we had the babies. Angel turned bright blue, and her eyes started to spark. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it, and apparently neither had they. They tried to grill me, but I wouldn’t even give my name.”

“Blue? My God, the boys used to do that, but thankfully they seem to have outgrown it.” Please, dear God, let them have outgrown it. The last thing I need is to worry about their complexion giving away their angelic lineage. “As soon as we hit that prison, they stripped us of them. I tried to hold on. Ellis did, too, but Tobie’s face lit up like a blue beacon herself, and the rest was history.”

I take a breath, trying to digest it all. “It’s okay. I can only imagine how fascinated they were at the prospect of raising two alien beings without the influence of others to bog them down. I’m sure they thought they hit the jackpot.”

“They didn’t thanks to you.” She gives my hair a quick stroke. “I’d better head home, too.” Laken ticks her head to the woods. “Coop is probably going insane.” She gives me a quick kiss to my cheek just as Wes comes up with Tobie. Laken swallows hard looking at the soot-covered little girl. “I’m glad you have your daughter back, Wes.” Her eyes glitter with tears as she ditches into the woods.

He watches as she goes, his hand still protectively covering Tobie’s sweet dark head.

“Thank you once again for saving my daughter.” He looks sheepishly from me to Logan. “And for bringing Laken back to me safe.”

He starts to take off, and I snatch him by the wrist. “Where’s Melody Winters?”

Wes frowns out at the building behind me. “I took her to Paragon before coming here.” Those familiar blue eyes tunnel into mine. “I was at Raven’s Eye, tonight myself, Skyla. I helped Gage transport the masses.” He glances past me at Logan. “I didn’t do it for your people or for me.”

I take a startled step backward. “Of course not. You did it for Laken.”

“Yes.” His expression sours despite the fact Tobie just leaned in and gifted him a kiss on the nose. “I needed to know she was safe.” He looks from Logan to me. “Thank you both.” He heads toward the woods, and both he and Tobie evaporate in a plume of electric blue fog.

Logan takes up my hands and pulls me in close, smiling through the tears glittering in his eyes, and my heart bursts open at the seams for our baby. A fresh wound I’ll grieve forever.

“She’s safe, Skyla. We will see her again.”

I pull back and look into Logan Oliver’s citrine eyes, uncertain that I share his faith in the sentiment.

“We will,” he says it sad, as a fact, as if he knew the answer would frighten me as much as it would delight me.

We head back to Paragon and straight to Devil’s Peak. Gage helps me transport a handful of Spectators to the Black Forest, and Chloe starts in on what she does best, rats her little heart out. We take a few to Seattle, Brazil, and China, and Chloe plays her part as if this were the role she was born for. Not once has she asked about Tobie. Not that either Gage or I are surprised. We take the bulk of the Spectators straight to Raven’s Eye and retard the commotion at the mouth of the building as men swarm the facility trying to assess what the hell happened to those alien beings. We watch from afar as the Spectators thrash their way through those feds in their blue jackets as if they were rag dolls.

“I hope they eat them all.” Chloe chortles a dark laugh.

“Now that’s an outcome I hadn’t thought of.” Probably not a good one.

“Not happening.” Gage nods ahead as agents swarm the Spectators, taking them down with the use of some kind of a Taser that shoots lightning from its eye. “They’ve got this. And they’ve also got their hands full.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “It looks like the heat is off our people.”

“For the time being,” Chloe chimes. “Wesley won’t lie down for long.”

Gage looks to me, forlorn, as if to say she’s right. Wes might be grateful today, but tomorrow is a different day. The battle between the Barricade and the Factions rages on. And until Wes lands on top, he will never cease.

Maybe Coop is right. Maybe Wes must die. It’s the only way.

But Tobie—Wes is all she has, and that little girl loves him. I think even Laken saw that tonight. Wes is a damn good father. It’s hard to hate your enemy when he melts your heart just a little.

Gage whisks us back to Paragon, and we drop Chloe back off at Devil’s Peak where Brody waits for her.

Gage takes us back to the house, back to the boys, back to our bed where we make love and lie naked in one another’s arms just the way it should be.

Gage was meant for me. Just have my mother try to deny it.

Weeks roll by. Heavy winds blow through Paragon and strip the softness from the scenery that the fog traditionally affords. It lets you see the harsh details of the world, the hard borders of the evergreens, the hard purple outline of Host lying like a sleeping giant in the sea, and just beyond that, Raven’s Eye where there is a panic of paranormal proportions, I’m sure of it. The news is unreasonably quiet—an irony in and of itself. Chloe and I have planted hundreds of Spectators in the paths of the world authorities—the largest congregation of them just north of Seattle in a weak attempt to deviate the government’s attention away from the island. But today it’s quiet. The wind, the fog, and even the feds have left Paragon for now. But I know enough to realize that the wind will stir again, the fog will return to Paragon in honor of their binding covenant. It is permanent. And yes, those men in blue will be back, too. We are no longer impervious to their suspicious gaze. Wes has opened a portal to hell that not even he could withstand, nor his precious daughter, nor the one that owns him completely, Laken.

My mother swept up the dead and returned them to paradise as soon as we left Tenebrous that day—with the exception of the Kraggers and Kate, of course. The dead had come, did what was asked of them—were reused and returned all without the pomp and circumstance that a resurrection deserves. In hindsight, I would have handled it all differently. But at the time, I did what I needed to. The important thing is that I acted. I wasn’t idle, lost in my thinking, stalled in my own analysis. Perhaps just as important is that the next time something of this nature arises, I think it through, consider the fact I don’t want a single soul tormented. Perhaps if I would have done that to begin with, I could have sent the Spectators to Raven’s Eye long before I ever did. But the truth is, I wouldn’t have. I needed to see the error of my ways before resorting to something so low, and I do believe it was low of me to stoop there.

Classes at Host have started up again, and I’ve taken a partial load. Only one class leads me to university grounds, and the rest of them I’m able to take online. Emma begged me to place the boys in her daycare center, where she promised she would oversee them herself, but I opted for dear old Mom who was more than glad to oblige. And she’s almost okay with me just nursing the boys at night. Almost. But the biggest change this fall has brought about is the fact Mia and Melissa have entered into their junior year at West. It’s a frightening thought really—how fast time flies when you have your nose to the grindstone, just living your life. It makes me wonder how quickly my boys will grow up. Will I turn around and find it to be their junior year next? And how will I fill the interim? Will I busy myself with Faction business to the point I miss out on everything in between? It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. It was in my junior year that I met Logan and Gage. My entire world shifted on its axis that year.

I asked the aforementioned gorgeous Olivers to meet me at Marshall’s. Gage is coming from Host, and Logan from the construction site. Nathan and Barron are with my mother, and Lexy and I just finished going through the Walsh home—my home, which I can’t seem to stop calling the Walsh home—we were working on flooring. Liam and his deconstruction crew came in and gutted the place. He replaced the old floorboards, the asbestos-riddled drywall, the windows, the doors, and now Lexy is helping me make a thousand and one decisions regarding kitchen appliances—high-end—countertops—granite, she swore I would regret marble to my dying day—backsplash, fixtures, fireplace mantel, wall color, whether to carpet or not carpet the boys’ room, where to put the planter boxes, how to design the hardscape for the backyard, and where we will eventually put in a swimming pool. All of those things cost money, and yet Gage keeps paying the bills, his wallet a never-ending tornado of dollars. It does make me wonder, but I’m too damn tired to ask any questions.

Marshall’s estate shines like a jewel under the duress of the white-hot spotlight of the sun, an anomaly in our gray existence. Whenever this rare solar event occurs, I hear nothing but complaints from the residents—the sun is too bright, too harsh, too hot, and oddly enough on this over bright, hard-lined, searing day—I agree. I suppose that’s the final step over the sand. I no longer consider myself an L.A. outcast. I’m officially an island girl through and through. As much as we lament the sun, we never really want it around.

I park and head inside. Marshall’s door is unlocked, and I frown at that giant hunk of mahogany as if it caused the malfeasance itself. I grew up where triple locks were simply a good start to protecting your home, and on Paragon half the houses don’t even have deadbolts installed.

“Ms. Messenger,” Marshall calls from the alcove where he keeps that haunted piano, that haunted speculum—and I pause because he happens to be entertaining a very haunted guest, Melody Winters.

I can’t help but scowl over at her. She is the girl who tried to seduce Gage on multiple occasions. She’s a skank through and through in my book.

“Well, well”—I speed in their direction—“look who the seventeenth century dragged in.” I come in close, and she inches back as if I might slap her. Believe me, I’m tempted. “And don’t think for a minute I don’t know who you are, Cassandra.”

Her mouth rounds out into a perfect O as she looks to Marshall.

His lips twitch a moment. “Don’t you mind Ms. Messenger. She’s rather harmless.”

“The hell I am.” I stab a finger into her ample chest. “What the heck are you doing here? Haven’t you ever heard that to every man it is appointed once to die and all that other good stay-the-hell-in-your-own-century stuff?”

“Skyla.” Marshall’s tone grows incredulous. “She is a guest in our home. Do work on your hospitality skills.” He turns to the redheaded moppet with a grin. “Skyla is my spirit bride. Soon, all shall be consummated and an earthly bond will ensue. I’m thinking children.”

Melody chortles at the thought. “You’ve already had a few of those.”

A few? Gah! Marshall’s seed is sprinkled all over this planet. Although not necessarily a bad thing, it’s a thing for sure.

“Just the one, and as fate would have it, my lineage has rolled right down to Paragon.” He glowers out the window a moment. “It seems the Olivers stem from greatness after all.” His left eye closes lazily as if trying to push the thought away.

“Don’t forget about Coop. You’re his granddaddy, too!” I rib him with my elbow.

“Do tell.” His affect flattens to morbidly dangerous levels. “What may I assist you with, my love?”

“I’ve invited Logan and Gage over.” I sneer at Melody a moment. “I’m finally ready to tell the three of you about the covenant I’ve entered into with Chloe.”

Melody gasps. “She didn’t!”

“Oh, she did,” I’m quick to inform.

Marshall grunts. “You didn’t.”

“I most definitely did.”

Melody wheezes as if this directly affected her. “Nothing good can come of this. Why would she trust you?” She staggers off toward that speculum, and it’s taking all of my restraint not to push her right in. “My God, it’s as if she’s heard nothing Marlena has told her.”

“In one ear and out the other. That’s our Chloe.” I give a private smile at that conversation my mother and Chloe had a while back where they used just about the same verbiage. “Anyway, yes, I will be the first to admit things have a way of falling to shit when Chloe’s around, but she’s basically what amounts to a celestial dust mite, ever-present and always getting under your skin. There’s no getting rid of her. At least this way I’m able to utilize her. And oddly enough, she’s on Team Celestra.”

Melody’s already pasty face goes stark white, and it frightens me.

“What’s the matter?” I reach for her elbow, but she pulls back, her gaze still lost in some faraway place.

“My God, she’s idiotic! What a ridiculous ninny.” She comes to and looks to Marshall. “I must speak with Marlena.” She shakes her head as if this changed her life on a dime. Newsflash: nothing changes the fact she’s been dead for three hundred years and counting.

Marshall leans in, his affect a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. “I’m afraid that’s not something I can provide.”

“Oh, yes, it is.” I jump to his side, and his eyes widen with horror.

“No, Skyla, it’s not.”

“Yes, Marshall, it is.” My voice is clear and cutting. “You see, Ms. Winters owes me some answers, and if she wants to see Marlena, she needs to provide them. Of course, you’ll play the part of lie detector because this happens to be a no bullshit zone.” I glance to Melody when I say that last part.

“Look at the time.” She straightens and snatches her purse off the piano. “I must run. It was wonderful per usual, Sector Marshall.” She glances back with her hand to her lips and blows him a kiss. “Until hex time!”

Marshall chuckles as he leans in. “A little seventeenth-century humor.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s lousy.” I look to Melody as she’s about to hit the exit. “The seventeenth century is dead! Much like you are!”

She flips me the bird as she heads on out.

Marshall shakes his head with a wistful smile as if it were the cutest thing. “She does seem to be picking up on the nuances of this century. Cassandra always was a quick study.”

“She was a whore in a whorehouse. What the hell is she doing here?”

He hems and haws, his mouth opens and closes as he flits his eyes out the window, and something about this little boy in trouble routine is intensely darling on him. Darn Marshall for captivating me with his cutting good looks at every turn.

The door bursts open, letting in an unreasonable amount of light, and in walk Logan and Gage like gods ushered in by the forces of the universe, their forms outlined in shadows as the sun tries to drink them down.

“Look what this century has dragged in”—Marshall says it with all the boredom he can afford—“the Olivers in multiple.” Marshall might not be delighted, but my heart soars at the sight of them. After all these years, those butterflies in my stomach still flutter to life whenever they show up on the scene. I try to usher us to the dining room, but Logan insists we enjoy the sunshine, and we head out back instead. It’s only then I note he’s holding a brown paper bag.

“You come bearing gifts?” My heart plummets because I recognize the white folder peering out. It’s the same one Lexy gives me once she prints out the pictures of the boys. I haven’t seen the ones we took a few weeks back of Angel yet. I’m not sure I’m ready to.

“Maybe.” He glances to the bag with sorrow as we follow Marshall to the corral, allowing the llamas to come over and eavesdrop on our conversation.

“What’s up?” Gage wraps his arms around me and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Everything okay?” His head tips to the side, and the color of his eyes reflects the sky, or maybe it’s the other way around. It shouldn’t surprise me at all that the sky would want to steal the color from Gage Oliver’s eyes.

“Chloe’s up.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “I wanted to talk to the three of you. I feel like I owe you an apology for not talking about this sooner.” A ripe anguish rushes through me at the thought of not having this conversation months ago. But, in a way, I wasn’t ready. In all honesty, I don’t think I could ever be. “The night of the boys’ christening, after Marshall and I witnessed what we did—I couldn’t breathe.” I meet with my husband’s intense gaze. “My heart was broken, and yet even in that horrific moment, I knew deep down that you were doing what you thought best. But ultimately, what I came to realize was that Demetri’s hold on us was stronger than I could have ever imagined.” I glance to Marshall who was with me that night. “It was good that you took me to see it. In retrospect, it was as beautiful as it was ugly.” I swallow hard. “That night I went to the Transfer. The boys—they afforded me powers that I never dreamed of.” My gaze falls to my hands as if the powers they gifted could be contained simply in my fingers. “I found Chloe in Wesley’s house by the fire, and I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.” I give Gage a sharp look without meaning to. “If you were siding with our enemy, I would, too. I asked her to follow me. To unite her powers with mine, and that I would gift her whatever her heart desired.” A sad smile curves on my lips, and Gage matches it with his own.

“She will never have me, Skyla.”

“Chloe knows that.” I shake my head as if refuting the idea.

Logan groans. “No, she doesn’t. There are some concepts Chloe cannot wrap her warped little head around, and that happens to be one of them.”

“That might be true, but we’ve outlined the terms of our covenant and handing Gage’s head to her on a silver platter wasn’t one of them.” I spend the next few minutes outlining the terms of the covenant I entered into with Chloe and place them on that proverbial silver platter before handing them to the three men I love with all of my heart.

Logan sighs, and I don’t bother trying to read whether or not he’s disappointed in me. “She gets to live above ground. She’s your number two. She’s for Celestra.”

I nod. “She doesn’t make a move without my approval. She doesn’t harm my family. She leaves my husband the hell alone.”

Marshall tenderly picks up my chin a notch, the look of sorrow upon his own. “And what’s to stop her?”

“I have the power to send her back to hell or wherever I wish—a quite literal hell if I wanted.” The afternoon of the covenant comes back to me. “She did say something…” Something that didn’t even faze me that day in Tenebrous, but now that I rehash the words we shed like water, I can’t help but trip over it. “She threatened me.” My gaze gets lost in the vibrant green lawn that spreads beneath our feet. “In the event I changed my position—she said woe to the hour I turned on her—that she would usher a darkness in my life like never before.” The words stream from me in a whisper.

“Skyla.” Gage pulls me in tight, his face buried in my neck a moment before he pulls back, exposing the crimson tracks in his eyes. “I’m sorry I drove you to this.”

“Don’t apologize.” My heart grows heavy because I don’t know how to candy-coat the truth. “I plan on keeping all of my enemies, present and those implied in my future, close to the vest.”

Marshall gives a sly smile. “Arrow to the heart, Skyla. There’s no better way to do it.”

“And on that note.” Logan holds up a finger. “There’s something I want to show you—all of you.”

“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Gage, and he shakes his head as if it’s nothing.

“We still win. You and I remain the same. We won’t bend to the will of anyone. I’m not going anywhere. You and I will raise our boys. My heart belongs to you and to our people.”

Marshall grunts. “I’m tempted to clap, but then I recall it’s Jock Strap who’s speaking. His people are not your people, Skyla.”

Logan offers a dull smile. “Neither are they yours, Dudley.” He holds that white file between us that reads Bakova Studios. “This isn’t easy for me to say or share.” His eyes look to mine, weighted with grief, and I see a citrine sunset buried in each one. “Skyla”—That longitudinal dimple I gave him dips in—“she’s not here anymore.” He opens the file as Gage wraps his arms around me from behind, and in that instant I realize Gage has already been apprised of the terrible news. I don’t need to ask who she is. Tears stain my cheeks quicker than expected as Logan shows us the pictures we took that morning with Angel and the boys—with Gage. All of us one big happy family. One by one I observe the void our little angel left behind. Not a single trace of her or that ruffled pink confection I dressed her in that morning.

My throat constricts, but I push past the baby-sized knot. “I thought people disappearing from pictures was just some tired trope used by Hollywood, and here we are proving it wrong.” My fingers brush over the space where her body once stood. “How cruel of my mother to leave nothing of our little girl behind.”

“We have our memories,” Logan offers the empty consolation. But we both know that could never be enough. Memories fade. They’re unreliable at best. Even as we stand here, I’m forgetting the subtleties of the way her hair smelled, those rolls of flesh along her legs. And that husky, and yet completely feminine laugh—thankfully, that’s ingrained in my soul, coursing through my veins like the whisper of, yes, an angel.

Marshall lets out a sigh that could take down a forest. “I’m sorry—for the both of you.” His eyes drag from Logan to me. “I’ve been summoned to the holy throne for a routine accounting. While I’m there, I’ll see if there’s anything I can glean for you.” He gives a subtle nod before leaning in and landing a chaste kiss to my cheek. I’m forever at your service, your majesty. “Anything else I can help you with?”

I’m about to open my mouth when Gage gives me a hard squeeze before spinning me gently into him. “There is something we need.” His dimples depress, and all seems right with the world again. “Our anniversary is tomorrow. Two years.”

“And counting,” I add.

He pushes out a quiet smile. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to renew our vows. It feels as if we had a tough year, hiding in and out of shadows, and I think it’s appropriate that while the sun is up over Paragon we shower our union with light and love.” His thumb swirls over the palm of my hand, and my stomach does that roller coaster thing I love. “Would you mind saying a few words?” He’s speaking to Marshall, but his eyes won’t leave mine.

“Most certainly.”

“Thanks.” He dots my lips with a kiss before looking to Logan. “You up for witnessing the event?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Logan tucks the file under his arm, and his chest expands as if he were girding himself.

Marshall steps before us and offers a loving prayer, blessing us in this hour—in every hour that God deems to give us, and I stop shy of flinching, of crying out that we would have more than that even. “And with that—may God bless you both and keep you. What have you to say for yourselves?”

“Skyla”—Gage holds my hands between us—“I love you more than words could ever speak. I have loved you before I knew you. And I will love you far beyond my final breath.” Tears glitter in his eyes, and my heart wrenches because the last thing I want is for this to turn into a eulogy of our love.

I press a finger over his lips, sealing in all talk of eternity. “We have this moment. This is our moment, our time, our life—and I plan on spending the next eight decades at least with you by my side. There isn’t any being on earth or in heaven that could break the bond we share. Our love isn’t temporal. It isn’t something subject to the breath in our lungs. Our love is infinite, as deep and wide and mysterious as the existence of the living God who sanctioned it. Yes, you are mine, and you always will be. We are steering the ship of our love, of our lives, of our future. And I chose a long and arduously drama-free life with you and our boys.” My heart pinches hard because it feels as if I’ve just driven the final nail through any life Logan hoped to have with me. But I’m not up for juggling three men like my mother suggested. I’m up for loving the one I’m with. The one my heart says I’ll live my days out with by my side. Gage Oliver is mine, and fate and all of her fury can go fuck herself.

“Kiss the bride if you must.” Marshall heads for the house, and Logan offers both Gage and me a quick pat over the shoulder before doing the same.

But Gage and I seal our love by way of a wet, delicious kiss under the supervision of a small army of long-lashed llamas, under the supervision of a crystalline sky and that burning heart she bears down on us with. I can feel the white light of its affection warming my back as Gage probes my mouth sweetly with his tongue. Two short years under our belt and yet it feels as if Gage has been with me since I took my first breath on this planet. Our kisses pick up pace with a heated frenzy of things to come, but I can feel the fevered anguish layered beneath the lust, crying out in agony of what lies ahead. A damned future painted by the hand of my mother, his father—two celestial beings with one dangerous agenda—to sever the bond that holds us together. My mother wants Gage exchanged for Logan in my bed, in my heart—and Demetri, well, he needs his son on the throne. And it just so happens to be that the path to the throne is through the curtain of death.

Sometimes being an angel can be such hell.

Halloween. A month rolls by, bringing the boys both to their eleventh month of life—standing while holding onto furniture and laughing with glee as they threaten to take their first voluntary steps in this world. But mostly, importantly, this month, on a cold night exactly a week ago, Ezrina and Nev ushered in a dreamy pink bundle of joy named Alice. Dark hair, deep navy newborn-colored eyes, and a face blessed by God Himself— Alice O’Hare is a bewitching beauty. Nevermore explained that the name Alice came from what was once Ezrina’s most beloved blade. It might seem like a strange leap to others, but it’s obvious to those of us who know and appreciate Ezrina and Nev that this child’s name is a great honor bestowed upon her.

But this night, all hallows evil, the who’s who of Paragon have been summoned to Demetri’s haunted estate to celebrate the day of his people.

I frown at my reflection in the glass of the minivan passenger’s window.

Gage and I opted for a couple’s costume—I’ve donned my West cheerleader uniform because thank God Almighty I was able to squeeze into it—mostly. I don’t suppose anyone will know I’m buying a couple of inches with an obscenely long safety pin Emily lent me. And Gage, well, he’s hot as hell dressed as a West Paragon dirty, dirty Dawg who’s already threatened a touchdown in my kick pants before the night is through. And seeing that we’re at Demetri’s and not Marshall’s the way God intended for this unblessed event, I’m suspecting the night will end rather spectacularly and abruptly.

Gage hands me Nathan, still groggy from his nap, and I can’t help but smile. We’ve dressed the boys as a couple of little skunks, and we haven’t stopped snapping pictures of them ever since we stuffed them in these ridiculously cute costumes. Of course, we stopped by Emma and Barron’s first and let them ogle and hold our precious little stinkers. My own mother is already at Demetri’s not-so-humble abode commandeering tonight’s circus the demon himself has thrust upon us. Speaking of abodes, humble or not, Gage and I have been burning rubber on our own cozy dwelling. Not only will our home be ready to move into by Christmas, but I’ve decided to bite the bullet and give Gage an early birthday gift by way of moving us all into Emma and Barron’s for our last and final few weeks of parental incarceration—hell, I figure I could stand on my head for a few weeks if I had to.

A happy little jack-o-lantern carved with a grin that holds a child-like innocence greets us at Demetri’s door. I know for a fact it came from Logan’s very own pumpkin patch—the Oliver Pumpkin Patch to be exact because I took the boys, and we helped select the pumpkins my mother picked up for the party. Mostly Gage and I picked them out, but we had a blast sitting the boys in a sea of orange and taking pictures of them as if it were their last moments on earth. The storage on my phone is in serious peril at this point. I’ve taken thousands of pictures of them. Of course, none as good as the ones Lex has taken. I’ve got to give it to the girl. I may not like her man-stealing tactics, but she wields a mean camera. And circling back to Logan, he did just as he said he would do. He gave away each and every pumpkin that he grew this year to the kids on the island. I’ve always known Logan has a heart of gold, and now everyone else knows it, too.

Demetri’s home appears to be openly scowling at me, with those tall creepy windows that mimic arched brows, those obnoxious glass doors that resemble a large gaping mouth. I glare at the monolithic mansion that demon insists on occupying. The liar claims it was once his grandfather’s, but I doubt such a creature ever existed. Nevertheless, tonight’s clash of costumes is strictly Wesley’s fault—well, Chloe’s fault, too. The real reason Demetri’s haunted mansion is festooned with black and purple balloons is because his one and only granddaughter, precious October Edinger, turns one today. And, for Tobie, I’ll show up every day of the week.

Gage adjusts Barron on his hip before shutting the door to the minivan and squinting up at his father’s demonic hovel. “You ready to do this?”

“As ready as I’ll never be.” I give a quick wink.

“Count me in,” a voice floats from behind, and we find Logan dressed to kill in a flannel and jeans and nothing more than a smile. “Look at you.” He forces a frown to come and go as he kisses each of the boys. “I promise I’ll get your parents back for this.”

“And what are you supposed to be?” Gage hands him Barron as we make our way to the oversized bat cave Demetri prefers to hang out in.

“I’m Skyla’s Elysian.” He grins my way. “Trust me, Halloween on this island usually brings enough of its own frights. It doesn’t need me adding to it. In fact, they should change that sign out by the harbor to read Welcome to Paragon. Every day is Halloween.”

“Dude, that barn you erected is a fright in and of itself.” Gage has enjoyed mercilessly teasing him.

“Stop.” I slam my shoulder into my husband’s. It’s been a tough barn-shaped pill for Logan to swallow, and now that the barn is built, painted a painful, blistering red, and is undergoing the last few details before its grand opening in a month or so, there’s nothing Logan or any of us can do to stop this countrified nightmare.

We head in, and the house is dark with plumes of fog moving along the floors in a snakelike pattern, a glowing sign reads this way to the party, and we follow the bloodied arrows all the way to the back of Demetri’s sweeping estate. The yard is done up with all the finery a haunted holiday like this requires. It’s apparent my mother—and Demetri’s wallet—spared no expense. Skeletons hang from newly erected gallows. Clown heads sit heaped in a pile at the base of a bloody guillotine—tons and tons of bloodied clown heads—and I try very hard to ignore the fact I feel a cardiac episode coming on. My God, doesn’t my mother know me by now? Surely after spending the last two decades with me, she’s apprised of the fact I hate the guts of every clown that’s ever lived, right? The sight of them alone used to send me running for the hills, but my phobia has dialed itself down a notch ever since Dr. O gifted me a tiny clown’s head a few years back and basically told me to get over it. God, I love Dr. O. Why can’t Emma be so affable? Speaking of which, Kate owes me an answer. Time is of the essence before she does her final leap into the sky, and I’m still dying to know why she thinks Emma Oliver is so much trouble. I can give a running list myself but none of us have that kind of time on this planet.

I glance around for anyone that might look even vaguely familiar, but all I see is a bunch of people gathered around the wooden stocks in the center of the yard, taking selfies and group shots. The party isn’t quite pumping yet, but judging by the fact Demetri’s soirees are known for free food and booze, I suspect the entire island will be Edinger bound soon enough. As it stands, enough people mill around to qualify as a decent get-together, and both my mother and Demetri head over with giant plastered grins. My mother holds Misty over her hip with pride—the two of them are both dressed as matching pink princesses. Demetri is his evil self—the scariest costume of the night, I’m sure—and Tobie is wearing a frilly pink tutu with a sparkling tiara pressed into her luscious dark curls.

“Looks like we found the birthday princess! Happy birthday, precious!” I gift Tobie a kiss, and she claps up a storm before blowing Gage a soft dainty kiss over her fingers.

Gage pretends to catch it and lands it against his cheek. “Happy birthday, kiddo.” He offers her a quick peck. Gage is proving to be a stellar uncle. Just the thought sends my heart aching for Angel.

Tobie laughs so hard her entire body shakes, as if Gage were the funniest thing in the world. She’s so cute we can’t help but laugh along. Her dark curly hair is down to her neck, framing those breathtaking blue eyes, and don’t get me started on those dimples. She is Wesley—Gage to a T. She looks every bit like a miniaturized version of Sage, and I ache for my other daughter, too.

“Would you look at this?” Mom’s eyes grow wide as she ribs me. “Demetri spares no expense when it comes to hosting a birthday party. How about we—”

“No.” I sneer over at him. It’s been a month of deflecting Demetri’s demented offer to host the boys’ first birthday bash. “A hard no after seeing that basket full of creepy clown parts.” I make a half-hearted effort to cover Nathan’s ears. “A hell no after seeing the blood dripping from their necks and surmising they’re real!” I hiss at the horror, and both Demetri and my mother chortle at the murderous details this evening has to offer.

Marshall calls Logan over to the fountain, and he excuses himself.

“I’m with her,” Gage says to the two of them. “Skyla and I have decided to keep it simple for the boys.”

“For two days straight,” I offer. “We’ll order in and have cake at the house. We’ll celebrate my birthday with Nathan, and then do the same with Barron and Gage the next day.”

“My God, don’t you dare!” my mother cries out while throwing her hand in the air as if we just threatened to eviscerate them. Misty bucks her way down and escapes her capture, making her way to where Beau is busy plucking at the eyes of the zombie seated at the entrance to the house. And, soon enough, the birthday princess herself hops down and waddles on unsteady feet to the two of them, only to be intercepted by Wes.

“Nice job, Tobie.” I marvel at how sweet it was just witnessing that moment. They may not have been her first steps, but they’re the first I’ve seen, and it warmed my heart to witness it. Chloe is here on the premises—but, sadly, she couldn’t care less if Tobie waddled straight into a lake.

Wes steps in, and just as I’m about to greet him, my mother snatches Nathan from me. “You’ll do no such thing. You and Gage aren’t even in the spotlight this year. You can have one party at home with the boys—if that’s the road you insist on taking.” She smirks at Demetri as if mocking the idea. “And we’ll be right here the next day to have a proper first birthday equipped with clowns and balloons—we’ll even have a donkey for the kids to ride!” she cries with jubilation, and a part of me doesn’t have the heart to stick a pin in her donkey loving dreams.

Tad barrels up with a drink clipped to his teeth, and my mother is quick to take it. His left arm has graduated to a soft splint, but he still has a limited range of motion. His good hand is laden down with a heaping plate of suspiciously glistening seafood with a mini octopus sitting on top as if it were the cherry on that pile of crustaceans.

“That’s right, kids. You’ll have the big one here. The little woman here sealed the deal with an all-you-can-eat seafood stuff it and buff it. In fact, we’re letting old Demetrius here host every occasion and holiday for the rest of our natural lives!” He honks out a hee-haw of a laugh as he shovels that eight-legged creature into his mouth, and a tentacle strays outside his lips as if it were fighting to maintain its own natural life. Natural life, my ass. There’s not a natural thing about anyone in our tiny little circle. There certainly isn’t anything natural about Demetri.

Tad garbles out something unintelligible as that tentacle flies up his nostril, and without missing a beat, he heads straight for the buffet once again.

“Pace yourself!” Demetri calls after him, that perennial smile of his wiped from his face momentarily. “You’re bound to choke to death one of these days.” That greasy grin of his floats right back like a serpent lying over his lips. “And you are bound to do just that.”

“Goodness.” My mother leans in. “Excuse me while I stop my husband from making such a donkey of himself.” She trots off, and I’m tempted to say something, but I think I’ll let Demetri take this one.

He looks over at her. “I’m afraid she’s found the ass for the party.”

Gage and I exchange a dry smile.

Gage offers Wes a knuckle bump. “What’s up? You have any trouble last night?”

“What was last night?” My heart leaps into my throat because everyone knows whatever happened last night with Wes could be a thousand times more frightening than anything this unholy night has to offer.

Wes looks to Gage as if asking for permission, but the beauty of it is they both ignore their father.

“Meeting with the Videns.” Gage pulls me in close. “Suffice it to say, they’re pissed at me.”

“Yes.” Wesley’s chest bucks at the thought. “They’re a little more than that.”

Demetri growls out a dull laugh. “Make sure you’re never alone in a dark alley. I’d hate to see them bring a swift end to you.”

If I could vomit on cue, I would hurl on Demetri’s shoes—better yet, a rise of projectile vomiting right in the old man’s face for even speaking the idea of Gage meeting his demise. I think everyone in our small circle knows that my husband’s death is Demetri’s end game, or should I say beginning—but must he be so brazen?

“You mind?” I reach for Tobie, and she lunges into my arms.