Chapter 39
Skyla
The front entry of Ellis’ mansion has transformed into a gladiator arena, complete with screaming spectators and the kind of bloodthirsty excitement that only comes from watching your classmates beat the hell out of each other.
Party guests press in from all sides, forming a circle around Logan and Drake while shouting at them to bash one another’s brains in as if this is pay-per-view entertainment instead of a potential felony assault.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The chant echoes off the marble walls and shakes the crystal chandeliers, creating a backbeat that would make ancient Romans proud.
Logan staggers backward from Drake’s assault with blood trickling from his split lip as he presses the back of his hand to his mouth. The energy from the boisterous crowd mingles with the smell of spilled beer and proves to be just the kind of adrenaline that makes people do stupid things.
“Logan, don’t,” I shout. Because honestly, we have bigger problems than my idiot stepbrother.
“That’s going to leave a mark.” Wesley nods at Logan’s jaw, as if he materialized from the chaos itself.
Logan does a double take in his direction, then spots Laken, and his brows arch an inch. He takes a moment to spit blood onto Ellis’ pristine marble floor before frowning at Wes. “Thanks for the medical assessment, Dr. Paxton. Very helpful.”
“I live to serve,” Wes replies with that trademark smirk that runs in the Edinger family. That whole Paxton thing was more or less a ruse, much like the Oliver thing was a ruse for Gage on some level.
“Come on, Oliver,” Drake shouts, standing in the center of the circle with his fists still clenched and his chest heaving as if he’s just run a marathon.
“Let’s go,” he barks to the crowd’s approval.
His hair sticks up at odd angles, and there’s a wild look in his eyes that lets me know this fight is far from over.
“Stay away from my girl!” Drake booms, loud enough for the entire party to hear. “I won’t be warning you again!”
“His girl?” I give a few quick blinks before spotting Bree bouncing up and down and clapping as if she were Drake’s personal cheerleader.
And just like that, all is right with the world—or at least a good chunk of it.
The crowd lets out a collective ooh as if we’re all back in middle school, and I can see phones appearing as people start recording what will probably end up on social media within seconds.
Logan straightens, wiping more blood from his mouth. “Drake, I don’t know what you think—”
“I don’t think, I know,” Drake cuts him off, taking another step forward. “Brielle told me everything!”
Logan glances at me, and judging by that irritated look on his face, he’d rather take a moment to rearrange Drake’s features than enjoy a reunion with our friends from the future.
Whatever Logan said to Brielle, it obviously backfired spectacularly.
“Look,” he says to Drake, holding up his hands in surrender, “there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding—”
Drake goes to lunge at Logan once again, and Gage stops him like a brick wall. And I take that as my cue to quickly wedge my body between them.
“I’ll take care of Drake,” Logan says gently, pulling me to the side, his voice barely audible over the crowd’s continued chanting.
“Like hell you will,” I mutter, grabbing both Logan and Gage by their arms. “We’re getting out of here.
Bree, you take care of Drake,” I shout her way, and sure enough, she all but tackles him to the ground—in a good way.
I think. Her boobs are out. Drake looks hungry for more than just pizza.
And just like that, all is right with this little part of Paragon.
I start pushing through the crowd, dragging Logan and Gage with me, while Wesley and Laken follow behind like some kind of supernatural entourage. The crowd parts reluctantly, clearly disappointed that the entertainment is ending without any missing limbs.
“This way,” I say, steering us toward the sliding glass doors that lead to the back of the property.
The backyard offers a different kind of chaos with the pool glowing like a portal to another realm entirely.
The bass from the sound system thumps through the ground while bodies writhe around the pool deck and sprawl across the lawn in various stages of intoxication and undress.
The air reeks of chlorine, more chlorine, and whatever they’re smoking from Ellis’ never-ending stash—probably chlorine if I had to guess.
We find a quasi-private corner near the pool house, though private is a relative term when you’re surrounded by every teenager on the island who thinks drunk skinny-dipping is a brilliant idea.
“Well, that was dramatic,” Laken says, perched on the edge of a planter, looking as elegant as ever despite the chaos surrounding us.
“Drake has quite the right hook,” Wes adds. “Very impressive for someone who looks like he gets winded walking up stairs.”
Logan presses his hand to his split lip. “He’s been working out.”
“Yeah, working out his anger management issues—on you,” I say.
Gage steps in from the shadows. “Okay, what’s going on? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because I just watched my twin materialize out of thin air to save you from bashing Chloe’s head in.”
Logan and I exchange a look, and I can see Gage’s expression growing more suspicious by the second.
“It’s complicated.” Logan frowns his way.
“Everything’s complicated with the two of you lately,” Gage shoots back, his voice tight with frustration.
“That’s right, I saw you that night in front of the gym at West. And I saw you after that, taking Skyla as if she belonged to you.
But this goes beyond complicated into completely insane.
Who is he?” He growls at Wesley when he says it.
“Why the hell does he look exactly like me? And why do I get the feeling that everyone knows something I don’t? ”
“Because we do,” Wesley says helpfully, earning a sigh from both Logan and me.
“Wes,” Laken warns.
“What? It’s true, the family resemblance is uncanny. It’s like looking in a mirror, except this version of me has worse taste in women.”
Gage’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. “Excuse me?”
I’m about to say the same thing.
“Chloe Bishop?” Wes continues. Oh, right. “Really? I know we share DNA, but I thought we’d have better standards.”
Laken, Logan, and I all share a quick, spontaneous laugh, and honestly, it feels good just to let go for a moment. We all know that Wes ends up having not one but two kids with Chloe. Trust me, love isn’t in the air between them—but well, sometimes a good look-alike is a means to an end.
“I do have better standards.” Gage glances my way before reverting to Wes. “Wait, are you saying we’re related?”
“Not now.” I hold out a hand to Wes while pulling Gage in close as well. “Let’s save some fun for later.”
Logan shoots Gage a look that could double as a threat. “Maybe we should focus on more immediate problems.”
“Actually,” Wesley interrupts before the conversation can spiral further, “we came here to offer a solution to your problems.”
“What kind of solution?” I ask as a swell of hope surges through me because I think I know the answer.
Laken leans forward, her expression serious despite the party chaos surrounding us. “We can take you back—” She frowns at Gage a moment as if he prevented her from adding to the future, and for his sake, I’m glad she didn’t. “Back where you belong.”
“Yes,” I shout as I pull Logan in and jump up and down. “We’re going home! We’re finally going home.” I look at Wes. “Can you really take us back?”
Only Celestra can light drive, although Wes has been known to siphon Celestra blood to empower himself before. Case in point, all of those times he played the part of a vampire and sucked the blood right out of my neck. The Celestra tunnels were no joke.
He nods, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I tapped into my serum supply. I’ve got enough Celestra blood coursing through my veins to take us to the moon.”
“I’ll take a rain check on the space travel,” I’m quick to tell him. “Paragon will suffice nicely.”
“Skyla,” Gage says sharply while tugging me out of Logan’s arms. “What’s going on? You do realize you’re standing on Paragon soil.”
My lips press tight as I look at this beautiful version of the boy I love with all my heart, soul, and mind.
“I know,” I say softly as I take up his hand. “Gage, we’re—”
“Skyla, no,” Logan growls. “We leave now. Gage, you’ll see Skyla standing right here. Catch up with her. Do your thing.” He frowns. “This is your time together. Enjoy the hell out of it.” He nods to Wes. “Take us home.”
“But what about everything that’s changed?” The question tumbles out before I can stop it. “Is there something we’ve broken permanently?”
“You know the rules, Ms. Messenger,” a voice cuts through the party noise like a whip, and I spin around to see Marshall materializing from the fog like some kind of hotter-than-hell dark angel emerging from the shadows.
Teen hormones. Still got them.
“You scared me half to death.”
“Only half? I’m losing my touch.” Marshall’s smile is sharp around the edges. “But if I must reiterate, you know the rules. Time has a way of correcting itself. The important things—the destined things—will find their way back into alignment.” He glances at Gage and glowers.
“Despite the covenant we entered into to get here?” Logan asks because Demetri filled us in on the fun fact earlier that my mother figured out a way to toss that timeless tenet aside.
“The fact you’re leaving usurps the authority granted to the anchor.
The timeline is remarkably resilient,” Marshall confirms. “Love, in particular, has a way of transcending temporal manipulation. Destined souls find each other regardless of the obstacles placed in their path. But there’s only one way to find out for certain if what I say is true. ”
Logan locks eyes with mine. “You ready to piss off your mother?”
“I was born to do it,” I say, looking up at Gage one last time. “I will love you forever, Gage Oliver.” I wrap my arms around him so tight, press my lips to his ear, and whisper, “Not even death, or a fate worse than death—my mother—can separate us.”
“Skyla, what are you talking about?” He searches my face for an explanation that I won’t be able to give him.
“Time to go,” Wesley says, extending his hands to Logan and me. “All aboard the Edinger Express.”
Gage ticks his head to the side. “Did you say Edinger?”
Logan grabs my right hand while Laken takes my left, and Wesley completes the circle by joining hands with Logan. The energy that builds between us is immediate and electric, making the hair on my arms stand up and the fog around us swirl like a hurricane.
Marshall steps back, his coat whipping in the supernatural wind we’re generating. “Safe travels. Try not to break any more timelines on your way home.”
“We make no promises,” I call back as the world begins to shimmer and fade.
Gage steps forward with a look of sheer panic. “Skyla, Logan, wait! What’s happening? Where the hell are you going?”
Logan and I watch as the bodies we borrowed—the old versions of ourselves— stumble in the exact positions we left them last, and Gage is quick to wrap his arms around me to keep me from falling.
That’s just like Gage, always there when I need him most. He lets Logan land on his back. You can’t save them all.
The past version of me presses a kiss on Gage Oliver’s lips, and he kisses her back with a fury.
“Finally,” I breathe, my vision blurring with tears of relief.
Time wobbles around us like a broken film reel, reality bending and stretching as the past and future collide in a shower of golden sparks.
The last thing I see before we dissolve completely into a spray of miniature stars is Gage’s face lighting up as he kisses me, as if he’s been waiting his whole life for that moment.
Some stories are too stubborn to stay broken.
And love? Love always finds its way back to where it belongs.