Chapter 22

I stand before a heavy door in the heart of the compound, my fingers nervously twisting and turning. A golden placard on the door reads "The Chamber," and it sends shivers down my spine. Behind me, Hunter sits in a wheelchair, and Oliver stands by his side, waiting for me to make my move.

And I will.

I need to.

I just can't seem to make my legs work.

"So," Oliver's soft voice breaks the uneasy silence, drawing my attention. He offers me a gentle smile. "This is where I leave you."

My eyes widen, and my heart begins to pound in my chest. "You're not coming? You have to. You're like the nicest person here," I croak as my hands flail between us. "What if I need you as, like, backup or something?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I don't think I'm any good for that job. I'm just a lab nerd." He reaches out and grabs my hands, stilling my movements, his smile warm. "My credentials don't afford me a place in that room."

"That's bullshit," I mutter, my throat tight with emotion. I squeeze his hand back, gratitude welling up inside me. "Thank you for everything, Oliver. Seriously. I really appreciate you."

Hunter lets out an irritated sound, and Oliver chuckles, stepping back. He gestures toward the door. "You've got this, Princess ."

My mouth drops open, and Hunter tries to leap up from his chair, frustration clear in his expression. But Oliver simply pats his shoulder and walks backward down the hall, shooting us a wink.

"Come find me when you're done. We'll grab some food, and I'll help you out with, uh…" He hesitates, his smile fading as his eyes dart to the Chamber door. "You know."

I nod, my heart heavy with the knowledge of what he means. Oliver is talking about the storm that has become my life, the escape I may need to make if these people refuse to let me leave.

My men—my family, are my top priority. No matter what I discover behind these doors, nothing else matters more than them.

As Oliver disappears from view, I glance down at Hunter, who's gritting his teeth like a feral animal. I chuckle softly, my shoulders relaxing a fraction, and press a kiss to his cheek.

"You ready?" I murmur, my eyes locking with his.

He blinks at me, his expression softening. "I should be asking you that." His finger traces a gentle path down my cheek. "Ready?"

I nod, straightening my borrowed clothes and taking a deep breath. I smooth my hands down my outfit, my heart pounding in my chest. "Ready as I'll ever be."

I raise my hand, hesitating for a moment. Should I knock? It feels absurd, considering the way these people have treated me. Would knocking make me look weak, even weaker than they already perceive me to be? Should I just walk in?

Before I can decide, the door swings open, revealing a man whose face I shouldn't recognize but somehow do. "Welcome back, Skye," he greets me kindly, his aging face lit with a warm smile. "It's so nice to officially meet you after all this time."

The fuck?

" Uh," I stammer, my brows furrowing in confusion. What the hell is happening? I shake my head slightly, pushing the strange thoughts aside, and extend my already-suspended hand toward him. "Nice to meet you…"

He grins and firmly shakes it. "My name is Steve. Come in, please. We've been waiting for you." His words trail off, and I sense the unspoken for a long time .

I swallow dryly and nod, following as he turns his back. My eyes flick over my shoulder, my hands outstretched to grab Hunter's wheelchair and help him in, but he bats me away. With a grunt, he pushes to his feet and wraps his fingers around the metal pole holding his IV and pain fluids.

"Hunter!" I hiss. "Sit your ass—"

"No," he snaps, shoving me to follow Steve. "I'm fine."

With a huff, I grit my teeth, watching for a moment as he holds himself upright with the help of the wheeled pole. When I'm sure he's not going to pass out, I shoot him a glare that he quickly returns, his jaw ticking wildly, and spin away from him.

The second I step both feet inside the Chamber, I freeze again, making Hunter collide with my back.

Instead of growling again, he slides his hand down my spine and murmurs, "You've got this, babe"

Suppressing my shiver, I toss my shoulders back and hold my chin high. As I step into the room, I'm met with a sea of unfamiliar faces, each one displaying a mix of emotions that mirror the turmoil inside me. Shock, awe, worry, happiness—they all seem to jumble together. Some appear genuinely concerned, while a few others give off an air of irritation or unease at my unexpected presence.

I tense at those, not expecting any form of hostility from strangers. But Hunter's palm on my back keeps me from stumbling as I push forward.

With each person's gaze I meet, I count inwardly, one, two, three ... until my eyes finally land on the twelfth and thirteenth people in the room, Daniel and Evelyn.

Their expressions are a stark contrast to the others, radiating love and pride. Daniel's strong arms envelop Evelyn, like always. Her fingers are clasped tightly beneath her chin as though she's trying to hold back tears. The sight has my own eyes misting over, but I forcefully blink away the emotions threatening to surface.

Our gazes locked, I summon the strength to take another step forward, and then another, until I'm standing before the last two people in the room—Robert and Madeline.

Robert nods in approval when I meet his eyes. I brace myself as I slowly turn my attention to Madeline. In my mind's eye, I see flashes of the mother I once knew—stern when necessary, moody at times, neglectful on occasion, but mostly kind, warm, and loving. I choke back a surge of emotion when I find her struggling to keep her own tears at bay.

Then, she extends her hand in the space between us, her smile gentle, patient, and, above all else, filled with love.

My body moves almost instinctively, my fingers tangling with hers. "Skylar," she murmurs, her voice catching. The name sounds odd but also right. "Welcome home, sweetheart."

People keep repeating those words, and for the first time since this surreal journey began, I allow the weight of them to settle over me. She's my family, and I've spent so long thinking I had none, no one left from my past. But here she is, seemingly out of nowhere, and as mad as I am about that, I'm also so damn happy. A sob escapes me, and in the next moment, she's pulling me into her warm embrace.

I go willingly. Even though she's much taller than me, my chin barely reaching her chest, I feel protected instead of smothered. I breathe her in, feeling an overwhelming sense of home wash over me. She sniffs softly, her fingers tracing soothing paths down my back.

"I can't believe you're finally here," she chokes out, holding me even tighter. "It's been so long. I didn't think we'd ever get you back."

Questions. So many damn questions. But all I can muster is a joke. "I don't even know where here is," I half-laugh, half-sob.

Madeline chuckles, patting my back lovingly. "You'll know everything soon." I tense at the thought, not quite ready to face the overwhelming truth, but I know I can't fight it.

Before I can utter another word, the room erupts in applause and excited cheers. Robert's deep laughter reaches me, and I find it oddly soothing. I pull away from Madeline, discreetly wiping my face before anyone can spot my tears.

Hunter's warm hands encircle my shoulders, and his lips brush gently against the sensitive skin behind my ear, causing a rush of heat to flood my cheeks. I can feel the stares of our audience, which is still completely fixated on us, and it only makes me blush harder. His soft chuckle sends shivers down my spine that are stupidly inappropriate.

"They love you already," he murmurs in a tone that's just for my ears.

They don't even know me. They know nothing besides the fact that I'm Madeleine's daughter, and she's apparently important.

"Madeline," I whisper, my eyes wide with embarrassment. She arches an elegant brow, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. Leaning closer, she positions herself so I can murmur my plea, "Please make it stop."

Her amusement shines through, and she rolls her eyes playfully. "We need to work on your showmanship, sweetheart. You're far too modest." With a click of her tongue, she turns her attention to the still-clapping crowd. "Alright, everyone, take a seat. We'll revisit…" She pauses, a smirk forming on her lips. " That later." The emphasis on "that" doesn't escape my notice, but I choose to ignore it as she moves back to the center of the room.

A massive table dominates the space, surrounded by chairs. While they all appear similar, one stands out—a larger, more prominent seat at the head of the long table. Madeline starts to pull it out but hesitates. Her shoulders slump briefly before straightening, and she finally slides the chair from beneath the table.

Turning toward me, her expression shifts too quickly for me to decipher.

"Come, sweetheart," she urges, her tone serious. "We have much to discuss and not much time to do it."

Her gaze flickers briefly to Hunter standing at my back, and I can't help but stiffen. Her eyes linger on him, observing the way he clenches the IV pole with white-knuckled determination. She shakes her head and clicks her tongue again as if in disapproval.

"Kiernan," she calls, and a man I hadn't noticed before with red hair steps forward from a corner. "Please get Mr. Morris a chair and place it next to Skylar's."

I grit my teeth at the name, still unsure how to feel about it. Inside, I'm a disaster of nerves that are only made worse by the urgency clawing at my heart. I want to get to the guys. I need to. Which means I need to hurry this along.

With that thought in mind, I squeeze Hunter's hand and step forward without another word, dropping into the seat Madeline indicated. As Kiernan shuffles chairs around and gently helps Hunter sit next to me, I let my eyes scan the room. Everyone's taking their seats, Madeline directly to my right, Robert next to her. When an older grey-haired woman on his opposite side catches me looking, I quickly glance away, distracting myself with my surroundings.

The room has a long boardroom-style glass table, offering a stark contrast to the underground compound that I've seen so far. Sixteen leather chairs surround the table, each one exuding an air of comfort and sophistication. While there are no windows, the bright lighting overhead compensates for the absence of natural light. A chandelier hangs gracefully above the table, adding a touch of elegance to the otherwise utilitarian space.

The floors beneath my feet are the same glossy cement that extends throughout the compound, giving the room a modern and industrial feel. On one wall, flat-screen TVs line up, although they currently remain off. The far wall is a blank canvas, with a projector poised next to a complex computer setup, hinting at the room's multifunctional capabilities.

In one corner of the room, I spot a set of comfortable couches nestled beside a slightly ajar door, revealing a minimalist bathroom. The overall design strikes me as simple, clean, and modern, yet surprisingly cold, the complete opposite of Madeline's personal office, and I idly wonder why.

Although I have no idea what this room is meant for, it vaguely reminds me of the Comms room back at the guys' house—no, our house.

My chest throbs all over.

I miss them.

"Alright!" Madeline calls, and I jolt in my chair. A palm lands on my thigh, squeezing, and I quickly cover Hunter's hand with my own. "I'm going to start with introductions, and then we can move on to the debrief." Her eyes flit to mine, a bright, borderline fake smile etched across her lips. I can sense she wants me to speak, but I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to say.

Everyone's gazes slide in my direction as if they sense the way I'm already floundering. I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. My mouth opens and snaps shut again.

I hate this.

Hate it.

Silence stretches on and on, growing so tense and uncomfortable, people start to shift in their seats.

"Well," a raspy voice comes from my left, and I nearly melt in my stupidly comfortable chair. "My name is Hunter. I'm twenty-five years old. Born in Oakland, raised in Marin County." His hand tightens around my thigh, and I sense the unspoken words. "Now I live with my girlfriend, Ella, and her four other boyfriends who are currently missing, no thanks to any of you. You were there in that parking lot. You saw what happened. You know who was there. So, why don't we all cut the bullshit niceties and get with the fucking program, hmm?"

Mic. Fucking. Drop.