36. Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Five

Skyla

W esley and I are chatting with some of his acquaintances, maintaining an appropriate distance, of course, when I spy Liam’s parents. Well, more specifically, his mother. She practically floats through the room, all dressed in white.

I know the instant that she sees me, because she changes direction and heads straight towards me. It immediately puts me on edge. I’ve never spoken to her before, but I have heard some nasty stories from Liam growing up. Granted, a lot of those stories stemmed from Liam’s father, but his mother sat idly by as her husband beat him for stepping a toe out of line, so in my mind, she’s as much to blame.

Still, though, wanting to make a good impression, I turn on my charm, giving her a warm smile as she approaches us.

“Skyla, darling. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she says, pulling me in for air kisses.

I kiss beside her cheeks as I smile and nod.

“It is so good to meet you, Mrs. Walcott. Liam has told me so much about you.”

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, well, as far up as her injections allow her.

“You and my son talk often? Often enough to talk about family?”

I physically feel my eyes widen, and I kick myself as I scramble to try to answer before deciding to play everything casually. Nodding with a soft smile, I continue.

“He’s my husband’s best friend. He’s always around.”

“Uh, huh,” she says, her eyes raking over me in suspicion. “Well, we simply must get to know one another better, maybe not on a night where all eyes are on me and my family. Lots of schmoozing to do, as you can imagine,” she titters, and I struggle to find it in me to laugh along with her.

This night is about her? Her family? Not just Liam? I don’t know how she could be so delusional, or maybe she has her head in the sand but honestly, joining the Elders isn’t the honor everyone thinks it is. It’s more like officially sealing your fate. Guaranteeing you will serve the Brethren until your dying breath. Sounds like an even more need for mourning than a celebration, personally.

“Let’s do brunch, tomorrow? At the country club. I’ll tell them to have our table ready by noon,” she says as she floats away, drifting in and out of each conversation she comes by before settling in with a flock of mother hens. Or at least that’s what I call the gossiping group of mothers in the corner. Their eyes roam over each person slowly, methodically, with nothing but pure judgement in their eyes.

A few more minutes go by before I see some Elder men begin to file into the room. My father and Christopher are two of the last to enter. They both make eye contact with me and nod, my father going so far as to smile. At me. I don’t know why, and honestly, I don’t care. The sight alone is unnerving.

My eyes continue scanning the room in search of the guys, but I come up empty.

“They’ll be here soon. Relax,” Wesley says to me softly.

I don’t make eye contact with him, unsure of who could potentially be watching us right now.

“I’m trying. It’s hard to relax when you don’t know what’s happening.”

Wesley nods as he lifts his drink to his mouth.

“They’ll be fine.”

“Why didn’t you have to go?” I ask.

“Hm?”

“Tonight. Or the night of Asher’s ceremony. You’re an Elder, technically, right?”

Wesley shrugs. “My father holds the Elder seat for the family.”

My brows knit together. “Right, but Ronan still has to go despite Christopher holding his seat. He goes to every gathering and ceremony. So, why don’t you have to?”

He pauses for several moments, his tongue running along his lower lip before he finally speaks.

“Christopher and I have an understanding.”

My face screws up at that as I look at him.

“An understanding? What could—”

“Drop it, Sky,” he says quickly. “Please,” he tacks on, softer this time.

Begrudgingly, I nod, not because I intend on dropping it, but because it’s not the time or place.

Relief swells my chest as Liam, Asher, and Ronan all walk in together. That relief shrivels up and dies when I see the look in Liam’s eyes. His face is all smiles, bright and infectious as ever, but those eyes. His sweet green eyes, that make anyone feel like the most important person in the room, are dull, lifeless, practically black.

I cross the room before I can talk myself out of it, forcing myself to hug Asher first when all I really want to do is cradle Liam gently and ask what I can do.

Asher accepts me happily, holding onto me for several seconds longer than anticipated before he whispers into my ear.

“He needs you.”

I nod against Asher’s shoulder, smiling to Liam as I put on a show for the people around us.

“Congratulations!” I grin, pulling him in tight. “Are you okay, baby?” I whisper into his ear.

He shakes his head as he pulls away, that same smile on his face, but the pain in his eyes has nearly doubled.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Enjoy the party,” he says as he begins making his rounds, much like his mother.

Asher and Ronan hang back with me as we all keep our eyes on Liam.

“Is he okay?”

“No,” they answer in unison.

I nod. “Will he be okay?”

They both hesitate before Ronan faces me, shrugging his shoulders with a disappointed head shake. Meanwhile, Asher hasn’t taken his eyes off Liam, like he can’t. Like he’s afraid to. What the fuck happened to my sweet golden retriever boy?

Liam lasts longer at his party than Asher did, a lot longer. We are two hours deep into the party, and he is currently telling an extremely animated story to his father and some of his friends. Asher, Wesley, Ronan, and I so very obviously want to go, but Liam is practically the life of the party. At least, he appears so.

Maggie comes up to me, bumping her shoulder against mine and I smile before turning to watch Liam once more.

“Is he alright?” she asks.

“No,” we all answer.

She nods. “He seems off. A little too happy.”

My eyes clock movement to the right, stunning me speechless. Liam’s mother is practically shoving Maryia towards him, okay not practically, but literally. When they get within a foot or so, she shoves her, hard. She stumbles into Liam’s shoulder, and he turns just in time to catch her, giving her a kind smile and a nod. I see the look on his mother’s face, though. I see the look on her parents’ faces as they hang back a few feet. Their plotting practically leaves an odor.

“Jesus,” Maggie scoffs. “Of course my girlfriend is being arranged to your boyfriend,” she mutters just under her breath.

“You don’t think that’s what’s happening, do you? I mean, you’ve been introduced to a lot of men at parties like these, and you’re not engaged,” I defend.

She chuckles. “Because I’m an insufferable cunt. Intentionally so. Mads…she can’t help but be sweet and charming. It’s who she is; it’s who Liam is. Honestly, from an outsider’s perspective, they are kinda perfect for each other.”

I frown at that, and Maggie bumps my shoulder once more.

“Relax, she’s not into him. She just came all over my tongue in the bathroom before she voluntarily ate my pussy until I saw stars. Trust me, she’s gay as fuck.” Maggie chuckles as she looks at her with equal parts adoration and ravenous hunger.

Her words bring me a little relief before I see Maryia take a step back for comfort, and Liam’s mom shoves her into his chest once more. Liam catches her again but this time, he settles his hand around her waist, holding him to her as he whispers something into her ear. She gives him a sweet smile and nods before sinking further into his touch. I like Maryia, I really do. She’s super sweet and seems to be good for Maggie. But, if she doesn’t stop rubbing herself all over my man, we’re gonna have a fucking problem.

“Easy girl,” Wesley teases. “Your claws are showing.”

“No, they aren’t,” I gnash at him, causing his brows to raise.

“C’mon,” Asher says. Let’s go for a walk.”

He holds out his arm for me and though I don’t want to go anywhere, I take it, looping my arm through his as we begin moving through the throngs of people. A new song starts up and dozens of people rush to the dance floor, including Liam and Maryia. My stomach turns, and Asher jerks my arm quickly, forcing me to look away.

My eyes roam around the room, resting on Christopher’s office before I turn to Asher.

“Does your dad keep a journal? Like the one Thomas did?”

Asher frowns. “Thomas? Thomas Putnam?”

I look at him confused. Ronan knew about it. Asher doesn’t?

“Yeah, Ronan told me that he kept a journal. Him and Christopher used to read it when they were kids. It’s supposedly your father’s prized possession.”

I watch as Asher’s face pinches in thought before understanding dawns on him.

“Black, leather? With a Brethren B stamped into the front?”

“Sure?” I nod just in case as we pass the office.

“Yeah, he keeps it tucked away in his desk. Never let me get near the thing, but I always find him reading it pretty much nonstop. Makes more sense now.” He nods.

My mind can’t help but wander. His desk? As in, the desk that is a mere ten feet away? And growing further.

The library wasn’t all that helpful for me, then again, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. Sure, it gave me all the cut and dry historical facts about this town and the trials, but there is something else, something missing. I can practically feel it, and I’m desperate for answers.

“I’m actually going to use the restroom,” I smile.

Asher’s eyes narrow on me. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?”

I shake my head as we move towards the bathrooms. Yes, plural, because of course a mansion of this size needs three restrooms downstairs alone.

“I’m alright. Just need to catch my breath for a moment.”

Asher gives me a sympathetic nod of his head.

“I’ll wait right here.”

“No,” I say, attempting to sound calm and relaxed. “Go schmooze or whatever you have to do so we can get the hell out of here. With or without Liam, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He lets out a derisive snort and he nods. “Agreed.”

Asher turns and heads back the way we came, weaving in and out of people. I only wait until he’s fully out of sight before I slip off into the kitchen. There are a couple of servers that pretend as if I’m not there, but I ignore them in favor of the servant’s entrance to Christopher’s office that I’ve noticed before. You heard me right, a servant’s entrance for an office. How disgusting can you be?

“Excuse me? I believe Mrs. Walcott is looking for some assistance. She wanted more hors d’oeuvres to be passed out.”

The two servers quickly jump to attention, grabbing the trays and hustling out of the kitchen, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip inside the office. Honestly, I’m amazed it’s unlocked. Then again, who would be stupid enough to sneak into Christopher Putnam’s office in the middle of a party? Apparently, this girl.

When I step into the office, the heady scent of scotch and cigars permeates my senses. I look around carefully before stepping up to his desk. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, I haven’t done anything technically wrong. Yet.

My hands shake as I open the first drawer, finding nothing but a few silver pens and papers. The next drawer, more paperwork. Same with the final drawer. I’m ready to give up when I notice a paperweight on the bottom of the drawer jiggle as I pull it fully out. Curiously, I reach in, lifting it out and testing the bottom of the drawer. It has a little give, and when I lift it up, there it is.

Just like Asher described it. Black, leather with an engraved B and old as hell looking. I mean, it’s literally over three hundred years old. I’m surprised it’s still together, let alone in the condition it’s in.

For some insane reason, I reach for it, picking it up as my fingers begin thumbing through it. Page after page is filled with elaborate cursive handwriting, eating up every centimeter of space. The first date I notice is November 2 nd , 1692. The next is November 5 th , 1692. It’s no wonder the thing is so fat. He was writing in it several times a week. Probably more, for twenty years.

Looking down at my blue gown, I’m thankful I decided to wear a corset with the ballgown. Grabbing the journal, I slip it under my skirt, tucking it just beneath the bottom of my corset before looking down. You can see a slight bulge, so I grab a handful of tulle and fan it out in front of me, perfectly camouflaging it. This is so fucking stupid, but before I can talk myself out of it, I’m slipping back out the servant’s entrance, closing the door behind me.

My heart pounds in my chest as I move through the party, catching nearly everyone’s eyes. I know it’s my own paranoia, but it feels like they are all watching me, that they all know I’ve done something terrible. I’m just thankful no one stops me.

When I make it back to the guys, I notice Liam has now joined them, Maryia still around his arm, as Maggie conveniently is cozied up beside her. All eyes come to me as I rejoin the group.

“You good?” Asher asks, clearly picking up on my off demeanor.

I nod and he narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe me. “I’d like to go home now.”

Asher nods, and Ronan and Wesley move together, heading for the door when I pause to look at Liam. He nods to Maryia before meeting my gaze.

“I need to take Maryia home first.”

Of course he does.

“I got her,” Maggie says before lowering her tone with a laugh. “I mean, you are literally all over my girlfriend, bro.”

“As if I had a choice,” Liam grits through his clenched teeth before shooting an apologetic look to Maryia. “Sorry, no offense.”

She shakes her head. “None taken. You know I’m…spoken for.”

Maggie laughs a little louder this time, nodding her head.

“That’s one way to call being absolutely pussy whipped.”

Maryia’s mouth drops open in outrage but when Maggie gives her a teasing smile, she blushes, shrugging her shoulders.

“At least let me make it look like I’m taking her home for our parents,” Liam says as he begins guiding Maryia out of the party.

Maggie and I loop our arms together as Asher waits for us a few steps away. I move as carefully as I can, feeling the journal moving with each breath I take as Christopher and my father intersect us.

“Are you kids off?” Christopher asks, almost in a jovial way.

What the fuck is up with him and my dad today?

“We are. Skyla isn’t feeling well, and I have a big presentation in class tomorrow,” Asher answers.

Christopher nods. “Good man. I hope you feel better soon,” he says to me before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek.

Fear ratchets inside me. The item I’m currently concealing on my body is his most prized possession. Does he know I have it? Can he sense it? That’s ridiculous, of course not. Then again, the Brethren is filled with nothing but surprises.

When he pulls away, there is no suspicion is in his gaze, only that creepy way that he always watches me. My father leans in, giving me a matching kiss on the other cheek before they nod at us and turn as one, like the weird little culty duo they are.

Asher turns, leading the way for us, when I feel Maggie stop walking. Her eyes are on a woman in a bombshell red dress with sleek black hair down to her ass. I’d recognize that hair anywhere, and when those bright blue eyes snap towards us, or more accurately so, Maggie, I can practically feel the tension from here.

An old white haired man has his arm around her, his hand dangerously low to her ass. Bridgette looks uncomfortable with it, but also like she’s been in this position a million times. She gives Maggie a sad shrug as she turns back to face the conversation.

“Mags?” I ask carefully.

She doesn’t respond, I don’t even think she sees or hears anyone but Bridgette. Bridgette and that man.

“Maggie?” I ask again, forcing her gaze to snap to me. “Are you okay?”

She closes her eyes for a second, shaking her head before looking to me again, pasting on a fake as fuck smile.

“I’m great. Never better. Let’s go.”

I hesitate for a moment until I feel the journal slip a little further. I can comfort my friend from the safety of Asher’s car, or maybe on facetime. I know I have to get home immediately, and I also know Maggie doesn’t want to talk about it, so we’re gonna put a pin into that little moment because the way they looked at each other…that’s not how you look at an ex -lover.

All of our cars pull up to the valet, and we begin filing in, though Maggie and Liam make a clean exchange of Maryia like she’s smuggled goods before he jumps into the car with Ronan and they take off. Asher, Wesley, and I are right behind them, and Maggie’s car is the last to leave.

I rest my hand against the bottom of the journal the entire way home, and when we get to the house, Liam makes a beeline for his room, shutting his door with a loud bang. I look to Asher in concern, but he just shakes his head.

“Let him process.”

“Process what?” I ask.

He hesitates for a moment before speaking.

“He’ll tell you if he wants to, if he’s ready.”

I frown at that, but nod as I grip the front of my dress, or more accurately, the journal a little tighter as I make my way up the stairs. When I turn into my room, none of the guys say anything, and I’m grateful because I swiftly lock the door, pull out the journal and begin devouring every single page.