Page 94 of Demise

Maggie’s arm catches mine, holding me back for a second.

“Don’t tell Skyla, okay? She’d only worry.”

I nod my head, pulling away from her hold as I begin wading through people. It’s not in my nature to insert myself in others’ business. If Skyla asks me, I’ll never lie to her but I’m not going to send her into a spiral if I can help it.

I see her just across the way, talking to Hutchinson and his grandfather. I waste no time in crossing the room, desperate to rip her away from this place and forget the fucking world.

Chapter Thirty

Skyla

Liam got dragged away almost the second we arrived at Putnam Manor. Wesley quickly followed behind him to chat with some middle-aged man and his wife. So, that just left me. I shoot off another text to Vincent when a voice clears beside me.

Looking up from my phone, I notice an older man with white hair sitting in a wheelchair, smiling up at me.

“Hello.” I smile politely as my eyes scan the room for Asher, though who knows when he will be done with…whatever he’s doing.

“My god, the resemblance really is uncanny,” the man whispers to himself.

I frown at that as I turn my head to the side.

“Pardon?”

“Your mother, why, you’re practically her twin.”

I nod and smile for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you,” he says with a sharp smile and a slight shake of his head.

I feel my own smile fall before he lets out a short laugh, offering his hand to me.

“Only teasing, sweetheart. Horris Hutchinson.”

I take his hand, shaking it once before he places a chapped lip kiss to the back of it.

Gross.

“Pleasure to meet you. Skyla Putnam,” I say, knowing how happy Asher will be to find out I’m using his name to introduce myself.

“Oh, everyone in Salem knows who you are, Mrs. Putnam. You’re practically famous.”

“Well, I assure you everything you’ve heard is completely false,” I tease, causing him to let out another laugh.

“Sharp witted one, aren’t you? Tell me something, are you a good girl?”

I’m thrown by his question, my smile turning suspicious as I narrow my eyes.

“I suppose it depends on your definition, but I like to think so.”

He nods thoughtfully at that.

“Good, you’re too busy to get caught up in messy business like your mother.”

My brows furrow at that. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer me, instead, his eyes roam over me curiously before his eyes catch on my scarred palm, the one with the Brethren emblem forever engraved onto me. His eyes move to my other hand, assumingly searching for the cut from that night.

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