Chapter 23

M y breath catches in my throat, and slowly, so fucking slowly , I turn to face him. But Hunter's eyes aren't on me. They're fixed on Madeline, his stare colder than I've ever seen it. The room is eerily silent, or maybe it's just my heartbeat thrumming in my ears that's deafened their words.

I can't believe he just said that to a room full of strangers where the situation is completely unknown and foreign to us, but, God, I love him all the more for it.

I'm not alone. Someone's in my corner.

I swallow hard, covering the comforting weight of his hand with my own, and give him a thankful squeeze. I watch, transfixed, as his jaw pops before he drags his attention from the room. The second our gazes collide, the sight of his familiar hazel eyes forces much needed air into my lungs.

I can do this. I have to do this. I've waited more than a decade for answers and finally, they're all right here in this room. More than that, these people seem to possess the information I desperately need to get my guys back.

With that one thought, it's like the terrifying storm clouds part and clarity washes over me. Nothing Madeline or my adoptive parents have to say matters right now. Nothing but getting what Hunter and I need so we can get the hell out of here and save our family.

Family .

The rightness of the word settles into my bones like a ten-ton brick. That's what my Diablos are to me, and after Hunter's admission earlier, I can only pray to a God I've never believed in that they accept him as part of what we've created.

But first, I need to find them.

Steely resolve fills my veins and for the first time since I woke up in my mother's office, I feel strong enough to handle this.

Hunter's lip kicks up at whatever he sees on my face. His palm flips over on my leg and he threads his fingers with mine, tightening his hold, lending me his silent but unwavering love and support.

With a deep breath, I discreetly push my shoulders back and sit up straight before turning to face our audience head on. Everyone is staring at Hunter and me, their expressions a mixture of confusion, shock, and anger. I barely stifle a flinch, but it's the pride on Evelyn's face that keeps me from wilting. Madeline's head is cocked, her eyes slightly narrowed, but I don't read any outward hostility from her. Thank fuck.

When I finally speak, I'm proud of the strength in my voice—the power.

"You all seem to know who I am and for that, I'm grateful. My story is long and ugly, and to be quite frank, we don't have time for it. For now, you can call me Ella."

The gray-haired woman next to Hunter scowls. I swallow hard, squeezing the ever loving shit out of his hand to hide my shaking. He makes a choking sound, shooting me a wide-eyed look I ignore.

"I have so many questions, but more than anything, I want to know what the fuck happened last night."

Madeline sucks in a sharp breath, but I ignore her too, focusing on the individuals surrounding the table. I meet each of their gazes head on. Finally, after a long, tense moment, someone breaks the silence.

I almost dissolve into a puddle of relieved sweat.

The man who'd opened the door for us, Steve, leans forward on the glass table and smiles kindly.

"The problem is we can't get into last night until you know the basics of what's going on here. Doing so would only serve to confuse you more." Giving me a long, contemplative look that makes my skin itch, he seems to come to some kind of conclusion. When he speaks again, his voice is soft and filled with compassion. "Excuse me for making assumptions, but from what little information I've garnered, you don't know where or who you are, correct?"

"The doctor said we're underground," I murmur, licking my dry lips. "That we're in a bunker of some sort."

"That's right," he says, offering me a soft smile. "You and your partner are currently twenty feet under the heart of San Francisco in the Les Beaux Voyous compound. It was built five years ago and serves as a home for the new Milieu Corso-Marseillais. "

"The what?" Hunter asks.

"And that brings us to the who . We are Le Milieu. The majority of those who sit around you now are from France." Steve grins. "When you were a child, you were fluent in French. Are you still?"

My mouth opens to point out the obvious, but I snap it shut just as quick. They have no idea about my past. They don't know that I remember very little from before I was with Hunter's aunt and uncle.

But over the years, some skills from before have shown themselves out of nowhere. I can understand Spanish conversationally, but French is more difficult for me to interpret. Some words are easy to piece together, others are more complicated, yet something about what this man just said feels familiar.

"I think I've heard Milieu before, but I'm not sure how it translates. I recall Corsica is in France, but I don't know what the rest of it means."

"This is a waste of time," a middle-aged blonde woman says, waving her hand through the air. Her gaze is cold as it slides down my body. Her lip curls in distaste. "She's clearly unprepared for what this life demands. She'll never survive."

Madeline gasps. Her husband merely rolls his eyes.

"Kassandra, she just got here," he drones. "Let the girl take a moment to breathe before showing her the full force of your inner bitch."

"I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking, Robert. We all heard about her display earlier. She's weak," Kassandra spits, shooting me a harsh look. "I mean no offense, dear, but it's the reality of the situation. You may be a Moreau, but you will never be the queen your mother once was."

The words hit me like a slap, the sting sharp and immediate. My heart races, pounding in my chest so hard I can feel it in my throat. Heat floods my face, but I force myself to stand still, to not fidget under Kassandra's icy gaze. Her words swirl around me, each one cutting deeper than the last. I'm not just hearing them, I'm feeling them.

My gaze shifts to Madeline, taking in the elegant lines of her neck, her delicate features, and assured confidence. Everything about her screams regal.

She is a queen, and I am… not.

The room seems to close in, the air suddenly thick and suffocating. My hands tremble slightly, and I clench them into fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms to ground myself. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing how much her words shake me.

I push my shoulders back, straightening my spine, even as my stomach twists into knots. I meet Kassandra's gaze head-on, refusing to flinch, refusing to let her see the fear coursing through me. When my voice comes, it's steady, stronger than I feel.

"And I mean no offense when I say this," I drawl, feigning confidence. "You have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of. I may not understand what I'm doing here, but I can assure you, I am anything but weak."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment the room is silent. Robert's face breaks into a grin, and he shoots Daniel an impressed look before leaning across the table, fist bumping him. The sound of their laughter, the easy camaraderie, takes me by surprise. A snort escapes me before I can stop it, the tension in the room easing just slightly. But inside, the panic still simmers, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment when I'm alone to consume me.

But not now. Not in front of these people.

"That's my baby," Hunter whispers, kissing beneath my ear. I shiver, and his rasping chuckle sends shivers down my spine. "So fucking brave."

My lips lift, but my smile quickly disappears as Steve leans back in his chair and lifts a brow.

"If you're done spouting nonsensical bullshit, Kassie, I'd like to continue, please." He gives her a droll look before turning back to me. " Le Milieu directly translates to the French—"

"Steve—" Madeline hisses, cutting him off. Suddenly, everyone's eyes turn to her. A queen, indeed. "Maybe this isn't the time for Skye to hear all of this."

"Enough, Maddie!" Steve snaps, causing a few gasps to ring out around the table.

Madeline jolts back in her chair, and Robert smoothes a hand down her arm. Clearly, she's not used to being denied things. Something in me preens at the idea of my absent mother being put in her place. The rest of me is just confused.

"What do you mean, enough ?" she asks sharply, confirming my suspicion.

Steve shoots a look at an elderly gentleman to his left, who gives a subtle nod in agreement. They both turn to me, and this time, it's the older man who speaks, his notable French accent sending shivers of familiarity down my spine.

"With all due respect, Madeline, the time has come to lift the veil of secrecy that shrouds the family. I understand the trepidation, especially with young Skylar having been gone for so long, but the fact of the matter is she is home now, and that changes everything."

The shivers spread across my body at his declaration, and it only gets worse when a round of " hear, hear " echoes around the spacious room.

Madeline flicks her gaze toward the ceiling and breathes slowly, as if she's trying to compose herself. I just don't understand why. Is she nervous? Angry? Does she not want me back? Earlier in her office, she seemed caught off guard and stressed, irritated, even. But just a few moments ago, she'd embraced me with tears in her eyes as she welcomed me home.

As much as I'd like to fault her for throwing me through the ringer, I can't really blame her. I'm an emotional dumpster fire most days, and today is no exception. Maybe it's a family trait.

"Okay," she murmurs. "I know, it's just—" she breaks off, turning her full attention to me.

Leaning forward, she reaches a hand out, palm up, in offering. I bite my lip and place my free hand in hers, refusing to let go of my grip, my lifeline, on Hunter.

"I know it's time. Just promise me one thing," she murmurs.

My eyes burn as an ugly mixture of emotions swirls within me. I want to rage and scream, demand she stop beating around the bush while holding shit over my head. I want to yell at her, tell her she has no right to demand any promises of me. But the rest of me wants to climb into her lap and ask her to sing to me the way she used to when I was a child, to remind me of what it feels like to be irrevocably loved.

I do none of those things. Instead, I bite my lip to keep the words trapped inside and give her a single, firm nod.

"Don't hate me," she whispers, her voice catching. She swallows roughly, her gaze sliding around the room before flicking back to me. "I did my best to protect you the only way I knew how."

"She'll understand, sweetheart," Robert says softly. Hunter scoffs and I tense, preparing to intervene if Robert gets wild with my man. Instead, Madeline's husband simply smiles softly at me. "And if you can't fully understand the decisions that have been made on your behalf, hopefully you can at least find it in your heart to forgive."

"Eventually," Madeline chokes out, then clears her throat and squeezes my hand. "I'm not sure where to start—"

"The beginning would be nice," Hunter says coolly. I flinch and he smooths his thumb over my palm, catching my attention. "I know you want to know where they are, baby, but I think we should give them the benefit of the doubt." He leans in to press a kiss to my jaw that makes my cheeks burn, all too aware of our audience before loudly saying, " for now ."

With a slow breath, I turn back to Madeline.

"Tell me everything," I demand, bracing for words I know will undoubtedly change my life.

"First thing I need you to know is that I love you, Skye— Isabella . I have loved you from the moment I met you." My brows furrow, noting the odd statement. She gives me a sad look and nods. "You were a week old the first time I laid eyes on you."

"What the hell does that mean?" Hunter snaps, voicing my thoughts exactly.

Madeline grows tense, and the sight of her doing all she possibly can to hold herself together has my heart racing at a chaotic pace.

"As I said earlier, twenty-three years ago, I was nothing more than a college drop-out with an estranged family who hadn't heard from me in years. I was living in Florida. I'd gotten myself into some…" She pauses, her nose scrunching up in an all too familiar way. "Unsavory situations."

Robert tsks in disapproval, but she rolls her eyes, ignoring him. I'd laugh at their dynamic if I wasn't worried about fainting.

"Anyway, I was desperate, alone, and scared. So when I got a random call from my twin—"

"Miles?" I ask, already knowing the answer. She nods, giving me a sad smile. My palms begin to sweat, something, a memory, tugging distantly in the back of my mind, but before I can examine it, she's speaking again.

"Yes. Miles and I hadn't spoken in quite some time. He'd moved to California for college. It's where he met Charlotte. She was so good for him." Madeline grins, but it's there and gone in a second. "Miles was always the twin who had it together. He was confident, brave, and intelligent. That's why I was so shocked when he called me asking for my help. Begging for it." Her voice cracks and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Miles never begged."

Acid churns in my gut, the newly found memory of watching Miles and Char get murdered swirling through me painfully. I want to tell her that at the end of it all he didn't beg. He fought. I try, but I can't get the words past the thick lump growing in my throat.

"He was a good man, Maddie," the woman with gray hair says quietly. My eyes burn as I watch the two of them share a heart wrenching look I don't understand but feel in the depths of my soul. "Your brother was a wonderful person, and he'd be damn proud of what you've accomplished in his absence."

Madeline swallows hard. "Thank you, Irene." Clearing her throat, she quickly wipes away a tear before it can fall. "He said he needed me to come to California as soon as possible. Promised he'd pay my way, take care of me, give me a home and job. The distance between Miles and I had grown so significant after the way he left that I was hesitant, but he was my twin, my best friend, and I…"

Her words trail off as a look of shame washes over her. Robert pulls her closer into his side, murmuring words I can only assume are meant to reassure her. She flicks away another tear and pushes her shoulders back, but it's too late. Her mask is already falling.

"I was in such a bad place that I accepted his offer without ever truly asking why ."

"Why?" I murmur, my eyes narrowed in confusion. "You didn't ask why he wanted you to come to California?"

"I did," she quickly says. "I asked him a few times, but he kept insisting it was a conversation we needed to have in person."

Her brows furrow, her eyes dropping to the table as she falls silent. I watch for a long moment as Madeline traces patterns on the table with her manicured nail, her mind seemingly far away.

"Miles said Charlotte was ill, that he needed his sister. When I asked what was wrong with her and what help I could possibly be, he promised he'd explain when I got there, on one condition."

"What was it?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"That I did not ask any questions or make assumptions until I heard everything." Her throat bobs as she shrugs, flicking her gaze back to mine. "It was an odd request, but after Miles moved away, he'd grown distant. There wasn't much between us beyond secrets and pain. I missed my best friend, and I had nothing but problems waiting for me in Florida, so I packed my things and left the next day."

"What was wrong with Charlotte?" Hunter asks, leaning forward. There's a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the urge to force him back to bed twists my gut. He shoots me a glare, no doubt reading my thoughts before muttering, "Enough. I'm fine."

Stubborn asshole.

Shaking my head, I turn back to my mother, waiting for her to continue.

"This part isn't so easy," she mutters, biting her lip as another tear slips free. "When I arrived, I was picked up in a discrete car in the middle of the night. I remember thinking the drive from the airport to their house was longer than it should be. Turns out, the driver had been instructed to take a senseless path."

Hunter's hand flexes around mine as a sense of doom fills me.

"Why would they do that?"

It doesn't make any sense. That's not normal behavior. But nothing has been normal when it comes to Madeline or my life. Hell, even Hunter's doctor said we're currently under San Francisco. That's so beyond normal , it's not even funny.

"Was it to prevent you from knowing where you were going?" Hunter asks quietly. "Were you a prisoner?"

I blanch, my gaze snapping to my mothers. A prisoner? Fuck. I hadn't even thought of that. Was her life just as bad as mine had been? Was she abused like me?

"No, I wasn't a prisoner. Not in the way you're thinking." Her eyes move to Hunter's. "I later learned the driver used a diversion tactic because we were being followed."

Confusion and frustration swell inside me. What the actual hell is going on? None of this makes any sense.

Memories of my childhood flicker on the edges of my mind. The training. The lessons. Char and Miles pushing me beyond exhaustion to learn all I could. To be prepared. To be safe.

But why?

My eyes flutter closed as something else scrapes along my brain, begging me to pay attention.

"Someday, people are going to come for you," Miles murmurs, brushing tears from my sticky face. I'm so tired of practicing my fighting skills. I just want to take a nap. "They'll learn of your existence, they'll come for you, and they will hurt you. You have to be ready for them, sweetheart. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whisper, wiping my face. "I understand, Uncle."

A look of pain fills his face, but he quickly blinks it away and gives me a smile.

"You must always be ready. Always be prepared to fight." He leans in and kisses the top of my head. "But don't let it stop you from living a beautiful life. That's all we've ever wanted for our girl."

I blink back to the present, my heart hammering in my chest as Miles' words ricochet through my brain. My hazy gaze meets Madeline's, and for the first time since arriving here, I look, really look , at her.

Our features are similar, close enough that you can tell we're related. But her eyes and mouth are different from mine, and she's much taller than I am. Those things can be explained away, can be blamed on the fact that I don't know who my father is, that I share half his DNA.

Yet every time I close my eyes and see his face, a feeling of rightness settles over me. It's quickly followed by an image of Charlotte; me in her lap, her laughing at something Miles has said, the dimples in her cheeks that match mine. The constellation of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

My trembling fingers glide across my face, tracing the identical pattern.

"Ella?" Hunter asks softly. "Are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick."

I swallow hard, my eyes never leaving Madeline's.

"Skylar." She sucks in a harsh breath and slowly releases it. "You know."

Holy shit.

"Know what?" Hunter shifts beside me, but I can't find the strength to look away. "What the hell is going on?"

The room fills with tension so thick, I struggle to breathe. Or maybe it's because my world as I know it, the reality I thought I'd finally grasped, is changing again.

She lied to me.

They all lied to me.

But why?

"You're not safe, mi cielo," Char cries as she draws me against her chest. "We've gone to great lengths to protect our baby girl, and it's all been for nothing. He found you."

"Who?" I ask, worry filling my belly as I blink into my dark bedroom. "Who found me? What's wrong, Aunty Char?"

Under my cheek, her heart beats too fast to soothe me the way it usually does when she puts me to bed. Something is wrong.

"It doesn't matter," she whispers, kissing my head. "He's a bad man, Skylar, but me and your fath—Miles, we're bad too. We'll do whatever it takes to protect you."

I blink up at her. "You're not bad. You could never be bad."

She gives me a sad smile.

"Oh, sweet girl. We're the monsters under the bed." Her smile grows as she cups my cheek. "But we're your monsters."

"What's going on," I say calmly, answering Hunter's frustrated question, "is that Madeline is not my mother."

His hand slams down on the table, making me jump. "Then who the hell is she? Who are your parents?"

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I'm not sad. Not heartbroken at the loss or betrayal.

No. I'm fucking livid.

"She's my aunt." I release his hand, pulling away. Distancing myself from everyone. Everything. "My parents are Miles and Charlotte, and they're dead. Am I right?"