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in me, Skyla,” He whispers as his eyes sear me with their pain.
    He heads over to Logan and helps him into the back of the truck. I watch as Logan collapses onto his stomach, the rain pelting over his wounds, soft as tears.
    I take a deep breath at the surroundings—the crystalline pool, the long rolling lawns, the mansion the size of a warehouse—a replica to the one in the Transfer. I recognize this place as Demetri’s paradise-like backyard, complete with ornate fountains—a rose garden that stretches out for miles.
    “Paragon,” I whisper.
    Gage jumps in next to me and starts up the engine.
    “Are you in pain?” His eyes dart over me, wild with concern.
    I shake my head. “Just weak.”
    He buckles me and speeds us the hell away from Demetri Edinger’s estate.
    The familiar roadway opens up as Paragon extends its loving arms to greet us. Trees wave wild as the sky gives birth to a torrent. I forget all about the weirdness between Gage and me and relax into his seat, praying Logan doesn’t drown in the back.
    “How long were we gone?” I ask, as the scenery picks up to a more familiar structure. The property lines begin to narrow in comparison to Demetri’s sprawling lair.
    Gage pulls into the Oliver’s driveway, reaches over and takes off my seatbelt with the upmost care.
    “One night,” he says, appearing on the passenger’s side without missing a beat. Gage cradles me in his arms as he extricates me from the truck.
    “One night?” I whisper. We were gone for weeks.
    “You were in a treble.” Gage teleports us to the back of the truck, touches Logan’s shoulder and we blip out of existence.
     
    ***
     
    It’s been a good long while since I’ve been to the morgue—and for good reason. Dead bodies and I don’t always get along.
    Logan appears lying prone on a metal gurney. He groans into his pain, his back covered in bloodied streams and beads of rain.
    “Dear Lord God almighty.” Barron’s voice booms like a fire and brimstone preacher as he approaches. He looks aged. Deep lines crease his forehead at the sight of his brother slash nephew. He lifts his gaze to me lying limp in his son’s protective arms. “Lay her there.” He points behind my shoulder before handing him a neatly folded sheet. “Heat this in the microwave. Pull it out before it catches fire.”
    Gage places me down on a mat laid over the metal bed where the autopsies are routinely performed and presses out a smile. Just the thought of him siding with Chloe makes me want to vomit all over him.
    He disappears and plays with the microwave, returning a few minutes later with the sheet and lays it over me—oven hot—and I seize, greedy for its warmth.
    “Ms. Messenger.” A familiar voice strums over me smooth and inviting.
    Marshall.
    I would pay in flesh to have him cover me with his body—reconstitute my blood back to life-giving levels.
    “What happened?” Barron inquires while spraying down Logan’s back with an aerosol bottle, and the room lights up with the antiseptic odor.
    Logan lets out a roar before sitting up and batting away Barron’s efforts.
    “Counts had us nearly three weeks.” The words knife out of him, still in pain from having his wounds cleansed. “Demetri came in last night and decided to conduct the blood draw—said we were back in time two years. They’re desperate.” He goes on to explain about the Elysian and the beating he received at the hands of a Fem. “I don’t know what happened to Skyla.” He gives a forlorn look in my direction, the sum total of every apology man has ever known, rolled into one.
    “What happened?” Gage leans in and brushes the loose hairs from my forehead with a tenderness you would think one could never fake and it makes my heart break all over again.
    “She’s been tormented, you dolt.” Marshall speeds over and presses a luscious kiss over the top of my head. His feel good vibrations radiate from my forehead like a symphony. “The fresh bruising on