16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Vincent

I had to let off some steam, get some space. Even if I have to step foot under the same house as Asher fucking Putnam, so be it. I need to see my Siren.

Following my usual path up the side of the house to her balcony, my feet hit the floor quietly as I move to the French doors leading to her bedroom. When I reach for the handle and find it locked, I’m relieved. Thank fucking God, it’s about time she started locking this shit. Then again, it’s not like a simple handle lock could keep out dangerous predators, or me.

In seven seconds flat, the door snicks open, and I step through to find the room dark and Skyla laying on her side, facing away from me. I frown at that. It’s only nine at night, and Skyla isn’t known to go to bed early. Quite the opposite. She can stay up until two, sometimes three in the morning, but try waking her up before six, and it’s like trying to bathe a cat.

“Go away,” she says stiffly, her words sharp in the otherwise silent room.

I cross the room, rounding the bed to stand in front of her. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I look down to see her brows knitted together, cheeks blotchy like she’s been crying. White hot rage thrums in my veins. This distress has Asher written all fucking over it.

I crouch down to meet her eyes when she turns her head. It sends a rush of anger through my body that she would try to evade me, try to escape me. My fingers pinch her chin, forcing her to face me. She does so begrudgingly, but as long as I have those pools of emerald green on me, I’m just fine.

“What happened?” I ask.

She stares up at me, contempt heavy in her gaze. Though, it’s not that deep. Just past the surface is hurt, pain. Looking at it feels like a million needles poking beneath my skin. I’m desperate to remove it, all of it, and replace it with nothing but contentment and peace.

“What. Happened. Siren?” I punctuate each word slowly, letting it show that I will not be taking whatever bullshit silent treatment she’s trying to give me.

She stays silent for several more seconds before she blows out a heavy breath and whispers so softly that I almost miss it.

“Asher slept with someone else.”

Piece of fucking shit. Maybe now she’ll let me finally kill him. I release her chin and reach for my knife, flicking it open as I head for the door to the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

“To slit his fucking throat,” I say with too much glee in my tone.

Skyla flies out of bed, plastering her body against the door as she shakes her head.

“No! Stop! I…” she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply before looking at me once more. “Before we were together, officially, I guess. After the ceremony, he slept with Mercy Lewis…”

Understanding dawns on me.

“You didn’t know.”

She frowns. “You did?”

I nod once.

“Am I the only idiot who didn’t? You know who told me? It wasn’t Asher!”

“Christopher?” I guess since they had dinner there tonight.

She throws her hand out at me and nods.

“Bingo! I just…it’s not like he betrayed me or anything. We were hardly even speaking back then, but still, I hate it. I hate knowing that others have been with him. I hate that he was still whoring around after supposedly loving me. I just…I feel stupid.”

I don’t have comforting words. I’m not an emotional, touchy-feely kind of guy. That’s more Liam or Ronan’s department. Need me to dismember a body twenty-three different ways? Want me to skin someone alive and turn their skin into jerky for the pig farm I frequent? I’m your guy. This…stuff, I’m no good at.

Slowly, I pull her into me, and she comes easily. Her arms wrap around my waist as I rest my chin against the top of her head and pull her in close to me.

“I can maim him,” I offer. “If you don’t want him to die, I can at least make sure he’ll never stray again. Can’t fuck whores without a dick.”

She lets out a quiet snort before looking up at me.

“The bad part is I know you’re being completely serious.”

I nod once, and she shakes her head.

“Why did you run out on me earlier? We were talking about something serious. You were letting me in, and then you just…bailed.”

An uncomfortability sets in as the topic of Nate is brought up once more. I like it best buried, cold, and dead in the ground, just like him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, catching me off guard. “For not listening with open ears. You were telling me about something that I know is not easy for you, and I met you with hesitance. That wasn’t right, and I’m sorry.”

I swallow roughly but nod my acceptance.

“But,” she continues, “I need the full story. I need to understand everything.”

“Why don’t you just ask Putnam?”

Her jaw clenches, and she nods her head.

“Fine.”

Pushing away from me, she opens the bedroom door and slips into the hallway. I hear her footsteps sound through the hall before a door opens. Ten seconds later and two sets of footsteps are coming down the hallway.

Asher’s hair is disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it like usual when he’s being a little bitch. His eyes land on me, surprise flashing in them before they harden, and he looks to Skyla.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

Skyla closes the door behind him, locking it as if that could actually keep us in here if either of us wanted to leave.

“Vincent told me that I should hear about Nathaniel from you, so we’re all going to talk because all of this animosity cannot last forever. Not if this is going to be forever,” she says as she gestures around the room.

I agree. She really should just cut Putnam loose now. No sense in dragging it out.

Predictably so, Asher’s posture changes at the sound of my bond brother’s name. His eyes drop to the ground, and he shrugs his shoulders as he speaks.

“He was found unconscious in his dorm room. He slipped in the shower, hit his head, and never woke up.”

“That is the furthest thing from the truth, and we both fucking know it, Putnam!” I seethe.

Asher’s eyes dart up to mine, fear like I’ve never seen him wear before absorbing all the color in his irises.

“That’s all that I know firsthand,” Asher defends. “I’m sorry you lost him, really, I am. He was a good guy, a hell of a lot better than you, but you need to cut this shit that I’m the one who killed him.”

“Just because it wasn’t your hands that took his life, doesn’t mean you’re not responsible,” I speak lowly.

Asher looks genuinely confused for a moment and it pisses me the fuck off. Maybe that dumbfounded look works for him with some people, but not with me, never with me.

“Stop,” Skyla intervenes. “This isn’t helpful. Asher, do you know why Vincent thinks you’re to blame?”

He opens his mouth to speak before he pauses, looks to me, looks to Skyla before his eyes go back to the ground.

“I saw him the night he was killed. My father had me meet him in the tunnels for a meeting with him and some of the Elders. When I came out of the church, I saw Nathaniel in the cemetery with a girl.”

Rage attempts to consume me as he spins his bullshit. I’m waiting for him to stray from the truth, begging for him to tell a lie so I can cut out that piece of shit tongue.

“It was his girlfriend,” Asher continues as he turns to face Skyla.

“Elise,” I fill in. He deserves to know the name of the girl whose death he’s responsible for as well.

Asher glances to me, nodding as he speaks,

“She wasn’t a part of the Brethren. She was an outsider. Relationships between members and nonmembers are taboo…relationships between Legacies and nonmembers are—”

“Prohibited,” I cut off.

“Why?” Skyla asks.

Asher shakes his head. “Why are any of the rules in place? Because decades ago, someone decided it and made it so.”

“What happened?” Skyla pushes.

He shrugs. “As you can imagine, having a relationship with an outsider was bad, but bringing them onto campus? On our sacred grounds? I told Nathaniel both of them needed to get the fuck out of there before anyone found them, and then I went home.”

I let out a bitter laugh, and I feel my fingertips twitch in desperation for my knife. What I wouldn’t give to jam it into his carotid right now.

“There seems to be some holes in your story, Putnam. Like the part where you narc’d on Nate to Daddy dearest and had him and Elise taken out.”

Asher’s face screws up at that.

“What are you talking about? I never told my father shit. I went home, went to bed, and when I woke up the next morning, news was spreading that he was dead.”

My next dig pauses on my tongue as I study him closely. It’s my job to read people, to study them, and right now, I do not like what I’m seeing. I don’t like it because no matter how hard I look, I see nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

“How did the Elders find out, then? How did he get caught?”

“I don’t know, maybe he didn’t get out of there in time. Maybe someone else saw but didn’t confront him like I did. You really have thought for all these years that I was the one to snitch?”

“You are your father’s son,” I throw out with far less heat than I intended.

The jab doesn’t seem to affect him as he stays quiet for several seconds before huffing out a short breath.

“Fuck, no wonder you’ve been at my throat all these years. If I thought you were responsible for Liam’s death, I’d have killed you a long time ago.”

I don’t like him understanding me; it’s like he’s trying to relate and compare the two of us, which is fucking ridiculous.

“Yeah, well, your last name affords you a certain amount of protection. You’re the future king of this fucked up world. If I took you out, your father would send every enforcer out there after me. I chose my survival, not yours.”

We both stand there, silently staring at one another. My head is racing with a million and one scenarios. Of course, I’ve scoured every database and security camera from that night. For months I poured over footage after footage. At 9:37 PM, Nate was, stupidly, walking hand in hand with Elise towards the graveyard. At 9:52 PM, Asher slipped out of the church and through the graveyard before coming across them. They spoke for thirty-eight seconds before Asher walked away. Two minutes later, the feed was cut. No amount of scrubbing and file repair has been able to pull anything else from it. The feed was lost, and therefore, so was the truth. Is it really possible that Putnam is telling the truth? That he went about his business and someone else’s hands hold Nate’s blood on them? I’m not completely convinced yet, but Skyla sure seems to be.

“See? All of this hate…it was for nothing. Asher didn’t do anything wrong. Your anger and hate is misplaced.”

I stare at my siren, more irritated with her than I’ve ever been before, when Asher intervenes.

“Is it, though? Granted, I personally am not the one who damned him or took him out, but my father is, right? My family is. My name is a curse, an omen of death. The entire Putnam lineage has blood-soaked hands that will never wash clean.”

All so, so true. Then again, if we are talking about the amount of bloodshed, I’d say the Griggs family lineage is right up there with Putnam. At the end of the day, we are all their puppets. It started with the lead puppeteer Thomas Putnam in 1693, and it has descended down to our current master, Christopher.

I stare at Asher, unsure what to make of this new version of him. The one that accepts blame, despite him not being the direct culprit. The version that sympathizes with others and is self aware of his family’s wickedness. Fucking hell, Skyla is some miracle worker. She brings out the absolute best in the most lost of causes. It’s a phenomenon that deserves to be studied and explored.

Slowly, Asher puts out his hand to me, but I just stare at it. He doesn’t seem offended. Instead, he just waits, his hand extended and a sincere look on his face. My eyes dart to my left to see Skyla watching me with a pleading look. So, I do it for her.

My hand slides into Asher’s, squeezing harder than necessary as we shake. He does the same to me before we release and rest our hands back by our sides.

“I’ll let you guys get some sleep. See you in the morning,” Asher says as he leans down and places a kiss against Skyla’s cheek.

“Stay,” she says as she catches his hand.

Asher’s eyes come to me before bouncing back to hers.

“Are you sure? We haven’t gotten to talk about the whole…dinner situation.”

Skyla shakes her head.

“And we don’t need to, not tonight. Tonight, I just want you, both of you. Please.”

“Of course,” I answer for the both of us.

What my siren wants, my siren gets.

Asher and Skyla move to the bed as I kick my shoes to the side and shrug my leather jacket off. I slide in on the other side of Skyla and wrap my arms around her waist. She presses her ass against me as her head rests on Asher’s chest, a soft, content sigh escaping her lips.