Chapter 17

I don't know how long I lay on the ground, but when I finally get up, my face is red, my head is throbbing, and I've vomited all the contents of my stomach. I wish I could say my heart is lighter as if I've cried out all my demons, but it's not.

I don't think it ever will be.

In fact, I'm pretty sure the more time passes, the deeper the pain will grow, the more shattered I'll become.

I bend over, rinsing my face in the sink. I cup water and fill my mouth, swishing a few times before spitting it in the sink. When I finally feel semi-human and clean, I dare to look up, meeting my broken reflection in the mirror.

As my tears continue to mingle with the water droplets on my face, I find myself locked in a heart-wrenching confrontation with myself. The woman reflected back at me, seeming like a stranger.

My fingers reach up, and I trace the pink scar dissecting my brow that goes up to my scalp. It's barely visible now, but I know it's there.

For the longest time, the first thing I spotted when I looked at my reflection were my scars. I saw the evidence of my past, the horrible accident I was involved in, the events that followed.

Then, I met the guys. I got healthy, I got better, I got happy . I stopped seeing my scars and started seeing me , the woman I was finally becoming.

Now, all I see is a shell.

My once-meticulously styled and curled hair is a chaotic nest of dirt, debris, and the blood of my best friend. The strands clump together, heavy and matted, clinging to my scalp like a weight I can't shake off. There's a profound disarray to it, a stark contrast to the carefully constructed image my guys had fawned over just hours ago.

Fuck, how long's it been?

My makeup, painstakingly applied before all hell broke loose, now appears as a smeared mask on my face. Mascara tracks streak down my cheeks like dark rivers carved by the relentless flow of tears. The red lipstick, once a bold statement of confidence, has become a haunting reminder of the chaos that unfolded, leaving stains on my jaw that won't disappear.

But it's the blood that haunts me the most, the crimson stains that mark my hair, my throat, my trembling hands. It's as if the very essence of death clings to me. His death.

Hunter's death.

You fall, I fall.

I love you.

It was always you.

Please forgive me.

With a choked sob, I pump soap into my hands, scrubbing my skin with a frantic desperation. The harsh, stinging sensation is a painful reminder, a futile attempt to cleanse not only my body but also my soul from the horrors that have unfolded. My skin turns raw and red, protesting against the relentless assault.

In my grief-stricken frenzy, I'm barely aware of the door creaking open. I pay no attention to the intruder, my world spiraling into a whirlpool of despair.

Get it off.

Off.

It will never be off.

Cool hands begin to rub up, and down my back, a soothing gesture, and a soft, comforting voice breaks through my anguish.

"What can I do, sweetheart?" the voice murmurs, filled with empathy.

My body shudders.

Evelyn.

I slowly lean back, my hair dripping and tangled, and my eyes meet hers in the mirror.

"Mom," I choke out, my voice trembling as I use a name I've struggled to use for so long, too long. Evelyn is my mom. Even with Madeline here, she's still my mom. She's earned the title again and again. It's hers. "He's dead. They're all dead."

With tears streaming down her face, she watches me unravel in the reflection. Wordlessly, she reaches for a stack of paper towels and, with gentle tenderness, dries me off as best as she can. Her touch is a lifeline, a silent promise that I'm not alone even though my world's imploded.

"We'll sort it all out," she murmurs softly with a sniffle as she proceeds to clean me up the best she can. "I think a shower and a change of clothes is in order, hmm?"

She smoothes my hair back, and I try to nod, but I can't. I'm so tired, so fucking weary, I can barely move. I blink up at her, my eyes heavy. "Tell me," I rasp.

Her eyes flit between mine, and finally, I can see past the pain, the fear, the confusion. She genuinely has no idea what I'm talking about.

I swallow and lean against the sink, pulling away a fraction. Her hands drop to her sides, the wet paper towels still clenched between her fist.

"Tell you what, Ella?" she asks, her voice soft.

God, that's a loaded question. I have so many things I need answers to. Where am I? Who am I? How? Where has my mother been all these years? What the hell happened?

But the only thing that tumbles out is a desperate plea born from deep in my soul. "Gage, Maddox, Nyxon, Stone," I say their names, one at a time, reverence clear in my voice, even as it cracks. "They were with me in the parking lot of The Den." I swallow, forcing my spine to straighten. "So were you and Daniel. Are they dead?"

Her brows crash together. "I don't know—"

"Not good enough!" I shout, my lungs heaving. She flinches, and I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just, fuck, I'm so confused. I don't know where I am or what the hell happened, but all I care about is them. What if it was Daniel that bled out in your arms?" She jolts like I've slapped her, but I go on, my voice echoing in the small bathroom. "What if you held the love of your life while he died? Wouldn't you want some goddamned answers?"

"Who died, Ella?" she asks, her own voice wavering. She shakes her head and straightens her sweater. "The last I saw, the boys were all still alive, still fighting. But our job was to get to you, and that's it. Nothing and no one else mattered."

My fists slap against my thighs as I scream, "They matter!"

The bathroom falls silent except for my heaving breaths. My eyes are blurry from tears, but I blink them away. "They matter, Mom. They matter."

Her lips roll between her teeth as she swipes her damp cheeks and nods. "I know they do." She looks away and exhales harshly. "I told her they were important to you. Daniel and I fought for them to be extracted with you and Hunter." Her jaw pulses. "She didn't go for it, clearly."

"Who is she?" I ask, smoothing out my dress even though it's a lost cause. "Madeline?"

Evelyn nods again. "She's in charge, for now."

I leave that ominous comment for later, circling back to the guys. "The man who took me—"

"Bobby," she cuts in, flitting her gaze back to me. "He's a big bear, but he's kind." She searches my face again and takes a tentative step forward. "He didn't hurt you, did he? I swear to all that is holy, if he—"

"No," I sigh, my fingers tangling in my soaked, gross hair. I cringe. "He didn't hurt me." Not physically, anyway. "But he said…" I choke on another sob and growl in irritation. Get it together, Ella. "He said they're gone. What does that mean if they're not dead."

Hope fills me as I wait for her to answer with bated breath.

Unfortunately, I know the answer isn't good, as she slowly shakes her head. "I don't know, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." I turn around and bow over the sink, my knees shaking all over. "But I will find out. We have a debrief in a few hours with the Tac team that was on the recovery mission tonight. We'll get answers then."

I spin back around. "We?"

Her lips lift in a slow smile. "I figured you'd want to be there for that." She squeezes my bicep. "I know you have so many questions, Ella, so many. And you deserve the answers. But one thing at a time, okay? First, you need to get cleaned up, and you need to rest. Then, we'll go to the debrief and figure out where your men are. After—"

Where my men are…

My men.

Four missing.

One dead.

"Hunter," I breathe, cutting her off. "I can't go to the meeting or de-whatever it's called. I need to go back."

I push past her, my heart racing, my eyes seeing nothing but him, him, him.

She grabs me again, and I whirl around, jerking my arm free as anxiety turns to blinding panic. "I have to go back. I have to. He needs me."

"What are you talking about?" she practically hisses. "You are not going back there, Isabella, so help me God."

"Leave him the fuck out of this," I hiss right back, my jaw pulsing. "God didn't help me out there when I held Hunter while he died. He didn't help me when four of the five people I love more than my own life were taken from me. He didn't help me when I was being ra–" I suck in a sharp breath, swallowing the words down before I can unceremoniously spill them out in this sterile bathroom. I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. I refuse to allow him to rot out there alone. I'm going, and I'm bringing him back."

"Hunter?" she asks, her throat bobbing. "You're going back for Hunter?"

"Of fucking course I am!" I growl, backing up. If I'm lucky, Oliver will take me for another run through this hellish maze before Evelyn, Madeline, or anyone else can catch up. "He doesn't deserve to be left alone." This time, my voice breaks, and try as I might, I can't stop it.

Her entire body seems to soften, making me pause. "Oh, sweetheart," she coos, brushing my hair from my face. Leaning forward, she cups my cheeks and bends to meet my eyes. "Hunter is here, Isabella." I suck in a breath. "And he's very much alive ."