Chapter 35
Skyla
The fog wraps around us like some kind of supernatural security blanket as we book it back where we came from, our footsteps getting swallowed up by a mist so thick I can barely see Logan three feet away from me.
The scent of pine needles and salty air mixes with something that tastes like electricity—probably leftover dark energy from hanging out in Demetri’s wicked lair.
In the distance, Ellis’ party is still going strong, the bass thumping like the world’s most obnoxious heartbeat.
Marshall keeps perfect pace beside us without even breaking a sweat, which is honestly insulting considering Logan and I sound like we just ran a triathlon—of course, Marshall’s feet never once touched the ground.
Despite the fact that we literally just discovered my mother wants to delete my children from existence and our only backup plan involves trusting the devil of Paragon, Marshall has that insufferable smirk that makes me want to introduce his face to the pavement.
“You realize,” Marshall says, not even winded from our sprint, “your mother just played you like a vintage violin.”
One from the seventeenth century, I’m guessing. That would be Marshall’s favorite season for treason, among other things.
My lungs burn as I try to catch my breath. “Thanks for the update. I really needed that insight right now.”
“I’m simply pointing out the obvious.” He adjusts his cuffs as if we’re at a dinner party instead of fleeing from my homicidal mother’s timeline terrorism. “She needed you compliant, so she fed you a story about protection. Classic Candace.”
Logan’s jaw redefined itself. “How long have you known?”
“About her plan? Oh, I’ve had my suspicions since you two started acting like lovesick teenagers again.
The real question is,” Marshall’s eyes gleam with that dangerous curiosity of his, “what are you planning to do about it? Because running to Demetri suggests desperation, and desperate people make fascinating choices.”
“We’re going to stop her,” I snap.
“With what army?” Marshall asks. “You can’t even leave this timeline without her permission. Face it, Skyla. Mommy Dearest has you exactly where she wants you.”
Logan takes a moment to scowl at his doppelg?nger. “This isn’t a joke, Marshall.”
“Isn’t it?” Marshall’s eyebrows rise. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve managed to get yourselves into yet another supernatural pickle that defies all logic and reason. At this point, I’m starting to think you attract cosmic catastrophes as a hobby. It’s almost impressive.”
“We don’t attract them,” I say as a flash of exasperation pulses through me. “They just sort of happen to us.”
“Right.” Marshall frowns. “It’s completely coincidental that every major supernatural crisis of the last ten years has revolved around your love life.”
“My love life is not—”
“The catalyst for interdimensional warfare?” Marshall’s grin turns absolutely wicked. “Please. You’ve turned relationship drama into an art form.”
Logan growls, “Can we focus on the real problem here? Our children are in danger.”
“Your hypothetical future children,” Marshall corrects while adjusting his cufflinks. “Who may or may not exist depending on how this particular timeline shakes out. Which, I have to say, adds a fascinating layer of complexity to the whole situation.”
“Marshall,” I thunder as my hands clench into fists. “They are not hypothetical to us.”
“Of course not. But you have to appreciate the philosophical implications. Are you fighting to save children who technically haven’t been born yet, or are you fighting to preserve a future that may have already been altered? Very chicken-and-egg.”
The casual way he’s discussing my babies getting wiped from existence ignites something feral in me. “Marshall, I swear on everything that is holy—”
“Now, now.” Marshall holds up a hand, his expression mockingly innocent. “No need for unholy threats. I’m simply observing that your family has once again managed to turn what should be a straightforward situation into something that would give theoretical physicists nightmares.”
We’re getting close to the lights streaming from Ellis’ party, and Marshall slows his pace as we approach the edge of the property.
The sound of drunk teenagers and questionable music grows louder by the second, with the bass vibrating through the ground beneath our feet and adding a surreal backbeat to our conversation about timeline manipulation—and a horrid disappearing act that my children may or may not have already partaken in.
Marshall stops completely, straightening his coat and checking his appearance in the reflection of a car window as if he’s preparing for a photo shoot instead of abandoning us to face cosmic catastrophe alone.
“Well,” he says, smoothing down an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt. “This has been absolutely fascinating, but I’m afraid I have a private party to tend to.”
Logan’s mouth falls open. “A private party? Marshall, we just learned that Candace wants to erase our children from existence. This might not be the best time for socializing.”
“On the contrary, this is exactly the time for socializing.” Marshall’s smile is filled with dark promise.
“My seventeenth-century guests are expecting to be entertained, and you know how cranky beautiful women get when you keep them waiting. Besides, you two seem to have the crisis management well in hand.”
“We have nothing in hand.” My voice comes out higher than intended. “We don’t even have a plan.”
“You’ll figure something out. You always do.
” Marshall waves us off as if he’s shooing away a particularly persistent fly—two of them.
“And you usually figure things out through a combination of blind determination, spectacular luck, and an alarming willingness to make decisions that would terrify anyone with common sense.”
My shoulders slump. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be reassuring. It’s meant to be accurate.
” Marshall checks his watch as if his biggest concern is whether the wine has been properly chilled.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have historical courtesans waiting, and they can get into quite a lot of trouble when left unattended for too long. ”
Logan steps forward. “Dudley—”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Marshall interrupts.
“I’m sure you’ll sort this out. After all, how hard can it be to outwit a powerful celestial being with centuries of experience in manipulation while simultaneously preventing a timeline collapse and saving hypothetical children from existential erasure? ”
My stomach sinks. “When you put it like that, it sounds completely impossible.”
“Nonsense. You’ve done impossible things before. This is just... impossibly impossible.” He gives a short-lived grin. “Best of luck with the whole cosmic crisis thing. Try not to destroy reality while I’m gone.”
And with that completely unhelpful pep talk, he melts into the fog like smoke, leaving behind only the faint scent of expensive cologne and my rapidly deteriorating faith in both human beings and celestial entities.
Logan stares at the empty space where Marshall stood. “I can’t believe he just ditched us.”
“I totally can. This is classic Marshall behavior. He only cares about a crisis when it directly inconveniences him.”
“Our children potentially being erased from existence doesn’t inconvenience him?”
“Apparently, not as much as disappointing a bunch of randy historical hookers.”
Logan shakes his head, then gives me that look that means he’s about to say something I’m not going to like. “We need to talk about Gage.”
And there it is.
Ice forms in my veins. “Why?”
“For starters, we can’t tell him about any of this. The light driving, the children, Candace’s plan—none of it. There’s too much for him to digest—mostly about his own reality. But we do need him on board.”
“Logan—”
“No, please listen.” He picks up my hands, his fingers warm against mine despite the chill in the air.
“Think about what happened tonight. Gage saw you kiss Marshall and completely lost it. If we tell him about the light driving, the fact we’re trapped, about Candace’s plan to erase our children, his children.
.. he’ll do something catastrophically stupid trying to fix it.
” Logan pauses long enough to glare at Ellis’ house.
“And Gage doesn’t know about his real father yet.
He doesn’t know he’s Demetri’s son, doesn’t understand what that means for his future.
If we pile Candace’s schemes and existential threats on top of that revelation…
” He blows out a breath. “Skyla, the two of you need to have your moment, have your children. It’s the natural order of things.
And if Gage starts to brood about the two of us trotting off to have our happily ever after, the one you deserve with Gage may never happen.
We’re not erasing Nathan, Barron, or Sage on my watch.
And I know we’re not doing that on yours either. ”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat because the rational part of my brain knows he’s right.
Gage is already barely speaking to me. Nothing says, take me back, like my mom wants to murder our unborn children across multiple timelines.
Although with Gage’s hero complex, that might actually work in my favor.
Nothing gets him fired up quite like having someone to save, especially when that someone is me, or comes from me. “So what do we do?”
“We try to right the wrongs,” Logan says, his voice carrying that determined edge that lets me know he’s made up his mind.
“We don’t count on Demetri to help us with anything.
His only interest is helping himself. We work on fixing the relationships that are supposed to happen, nudge things back toward the way they should be. ”
“And how exactly do we do that without revealing why we know how things are supposed to be?”
Logan’s smile looks more like a grimace. “Very carefully. I’ll work on getting Brielle and Drake to notice each other. You work on Gage.”
“Work on Gage, how? He’s not exactly receptive to my charm at the moment.”
“Figure it out. You’re the one who marries him one day. There has to be something about you that he finds irresistible.” He winks as he says it. “Let him know he has your heart.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “If we’re going to get the future back on track, we don’t have a minute to waste.”
“Oh, Logan.” I groan. “Here we are again. You pushing me toward Gage while everything burns down around us. It’s like the universe’s worst recurring nightmare.
” A heavy sigh escapes me. “This is supposed to be our time. And here we are, torn apart once again. It doesn’t seem fair.
And the thought of charming my way back into Gage’s good graces feels both wrong and impossible. ”
“It’s not wrong. It’s right.” Logan cups my face in his hands, and his thumb traces my cheek. “Just be yourself. The real you, not the version who’s trying to juggle multiple timelines and save the world. The you that Gage fell in love with in the first place.”
My chest tightens. “What if that’s not enough?”
“Then we’ll figure out something else. But right now, this is our best shot at preserving the future we know. There is no one on Earth or in Heaven who will erase our family.”
A group of drunk sophomores stumbles past us, their laughter echoing off the fog-dampened air as they argue about something that probably seemed hilarious five beers ago. The contrast between their carefree attitude and our celestial train wreck makes my head spin.
I take a shaky breath. “Okay. We’ll try to fix things. But if this goes sideways—”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you,” Logan says quietly, his eyes never leaving mine. “And I know that if anyone can convince Gage to stop being an idiot and realize what’s right in front of him, it’s the girl he will never stop loving.”
We walk back toward the party together, the fog swirling around our feet as if it’s trying to trip us. The music gets louder, the laughter more raucous, and the scent of spilled beer and teenage life-altering mistakes grows stronger with each step.
Logan pauses at the edge of the crowd. “Ready?”
I square my shoulders and prepare to dive back into the chaos of Ellis’ party with a mission that could determine the fate of our entire future. “Ready and willing to manipulate destiny.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I get it from my mother.”
A quick smile lives and dies on his lips before he sneaks a kiss to my cheek.
We step into the thicket of bodies, and Logan immediately veers off toward where Brielle sits sulking by the pool house, looking as if her world just ended.
I scan the party for any sign of Gage, my heart hammering against my ribs as I prepare to attempt the impossible—saving my future while pretending I don’t know what it looks like.
Nobody, not even my mother, gets to steal the family we’ve built.
It’s time to fix everything I’ve broken and take back what was always meant to be mine—starting with Gage.