Chapter Seventeen
Asher
Ronan and Wesley were able to pull a fingerprint match on the prick that was following Skyla and Blake.
Alexander Coombs. Born and raised in Philly, in and out of juvenile detention nine times by the time he turned eighteen, followed by three stints in prison, all in his short thirty-two years of life.
Most of his crimes were stupid shit. Petty theft, breaking and entering. Though according to records, he died in a mysterious house fire three years ago. Clearly, that was fucking bullshit because he was alive and well just this morning. Until his own guys shot him in the fucking head.
I gotta be honest, we’re all a little to blame.
We let Sky twist our arms. I don’t think any of us were overly comfortable with the idea of them leaving the house, but she stuck out her lower lip and batted her eyes, and just like that, I was a weak fucker ready to give her anything and everything that she wanted.
Liam and I hung at home with the kids watching Christmas movies and burning Christmas cookies—twice, thanks to Liam the chef.
All the while not having a clue that our wife was in danger.
It doesn’t help that on top of all this shit going on with the Graves family, Hutchinson has been fucking up.
I get that his wife just had a baby, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to ignore his job.
He’s head of cybersecurity, and twice this week alone, we’ve had data leaks.
Not that I’ve admitted that to anyone besides the two of us.
That information would only cause panic, and some things not all the Elders need to be privy to.
“Hey!” Liam says, bouncing towards me before jumping onto the couch.
I look up from my phone, raising an eyebrow in question as he grins. “Yes?”
“I swindled Ronan and Wesley into bedtime duty, which means with the way Jackson has been stalling lately, we should have a solid forty-five minutes of fun time!” he says with a smirk.
“Fun time?” I ask. He’s holding much more of my attention now than he did just a moment ago.
“Mhmm. I’ve got a surprise since we were all naughty,” he teases. “Meet you upstairs in five!” And he practically skips off to the garage.
I shake my head, only for a moment wondering why I love that goofy fucker. The smile on my face quickly reminds me, though.
As I climb the stairs, I see Blake, Zayden and Dominic all discussing something quietly, Blake’s arms crossed over her chest as Dominic massages her shoulders and Zayden nods seriously.
If I wasn’t so goddamn exhausted with everything going on, I might be nosey enough to snoop on them.
As it turns out, a little relaxation—or fun time—with my wife and boyfriend sounds a lot more appealing.
When I push inside our bedroom, I find Skyla already lying on the bed, a little black camisole dress practically wrapped around her body. She’s so fucking gorgeous. I still don’t know how I got so lucky. How any of us got so lucky.
The shower is on in the bathroom, the door slightly ajar.
“Griggs?” I ask.
She nods with a soft smile.
“Tough shit for him—you’re mine and Liam’s tonight,” I say as I slide onto the bed, pulling her to lie on top of me, careful not to squish the baby.
She giggles as she pushes her hair out of her face, smiling down at me lovingly. “I think he might have something to say about that.”
“Let him,” I reply with a shrug before cupping the back of her head and pulling her lips down to mine.
She smiles against me, and when we pull apart, she nuzzles her head into my neck. We lie there for a moment, my hand absentmindedly rubbing her back before she speaks.
“I’m sorry for today.”
“It’s fine, princess. I think we all underestimated just how closely they’re being watched. None of us anticipated them already tracking the Graves family up here.”
“Still…” She shrugs. “I feel bad. Blake is kinda lonely. I can tell. I was just trying to cheer her up.”
I laugh. “She has two husbands who’re obsessed with her—how lonely can she get?”
Skyla pulls away to look at me with a steady gaze. “Love and friendship are two different cups, and they don’t always fill each other up.”
I nod at that. She has a point, and with the way Zayden and Dominic treat her, I doubt she’s ever let out of their sight, let alone allowed to have friends.
Skyla doesn’t have many friends either, though.
She has Maggie of course, and by extension Bridgette sometimes, which is still a fucking trip for me, let me tell you.
She does like Abigail, Andrew Hutchinson’s wife, though I wouldn’t necessarily call them friends.
They mingle at Brethren gatherings, and Hutchinson tries to act like he still doesn’t have a crush on my wife. Annoying little fuck.
I rest my hands on her belly and rub my thumbs against her gently.
I know this baby is mine—there’s no way it could be anyone else’s.
Not scientifically at least. Okay, maybe scientifically, but probability-wise, it’s mine.
Don’t get me wrong, I love all my children equally; I always will, but something in me thrums with the excitement at the idea of fathering one of our children.
That our whole family will be made up of small pieces of us blended together.
“I’m glad you both are safe.”
Skyla smiles at me. “I swear, my ankles are already blowing up and it’s winter. It’s kinda bullshit.”
I smile at her irritation before rolling her off me and scooting myself down to cup her feet. Slowly, I begin massaging her ankles, moving into her feet in a way that has her moaning in delight.
“Fuck, can this be your job for the rest of this pregnancy?”
I laugh at that. “Just this, princess?”
“Yeah, the others can handle everything else. You’re on foot-rub duty.”
I smile at that, more than happy to do whatever she needs to get her through this difficult time. The amount of joy she brings me each day just by existing is priceless. The fact that she’s bringing another child of ours into the world? Repayment could never be achieved.
Unfortunately, all the joy is sucked from me when my phone rings. As much as I don’t want to, I pause rubbing Skyla’s feet and answer it.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry to bother you so late. I just… I found something, and I’m looking into it. I just don’t know the origin of the entry point, and—”
“Cut to the fucking chase,” I snap at Hutchinson.
“We’ve been hacked. Again.”
“What?” I snarl.
“I know. I’m working on more firewalls. Extra precautions, but they… they only tapped into certain things,” he stammers.
“Like?”
The line is quiet for a moment before he speaks.
“The security cameras to your private residence in Salem… and in New Hampshire.”
Motherfucker.
“Cut their access now or I’ll cut off your fucking head!” I shout. “I swear to God if you don’t fix this shit, and quick, I’ll be sending Griggs after you. This is your final fucking warning.”
I end the call abruptly and toss the phone to the other side of the room.
I swear, just because I’m not as big a prick as my father, people think they can slack off.
That they can get away with shit. I am the leader of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world—that doesn’t get handed to you by pussyfooting around and giving every jackass moron chance after chance.
Lineage or not. If he doesn’t fix our security leak, and soon, I will personally end the entire Hutchinson lineage with a goddamn smile on my face.
“Is everything okay?” Skyla asks with a frown.
I turn to face her, shaking my head. “No.”
“Do you need to go?”
Yes.
“No, princess. I’m not going anywhere. You said it yourself. I’m on foot rub-duty.”