Chapter 27

I shoot up, gasping for breath. Sweat clings to my skin, and my heart pounds so hard it hurts. My mind is blank, my nightmare slipping away like smoke, but the fear still lingers. I tangle my fingers in the soft duvet and force myself to breathe through the anxiety clawing at me. It's been like this all night, and knowing me, this is just the beginning of another long line of sleepless nights.

My glaze slides around the room, taking in my surroundings. It's pitch black except for a sliver of light sneaking in from the cracked bathroom door. Despite there not being any windows, the bedroom is nicer than I expected for a compound—plush carpet, dark wood furniture, an incredible bed that I could melt in.

If only I could get my brain to turn off.

My eyes flick to the clock on the bedside table. Five in the morning. I can't believe I've slept at all. I rub a trembling hand across my sweaty face and drop back down with a huff.

My heart is still racing, the remnants of a nightmare I can't remember clinging to me like a suffocating blanket. But it's not just the dream that has me on edge—it's the gnawing fear about my men.

They're missing, and every second without them feels like a knife twisting deeper into my chest. It's been two days since my party, and we're no closer to finding them.

Yesterday feels like a blur.

After dropping the bomb about using me as bait, Evelyn explained a bit more about Le Milieu, the compound and Circle members, and the situation with Gus. It was overwhelming, to say the least. It wasn't long before I was physically crashing, the remnants of my panic attack and high emotions too much for me to handle. I'd needed to retreat, to process all the chaos that was dumped on me.

But just as we were about to leave, Hunter stumbled, crashing into the table, and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. I'd practically dragged him back to the med-bay, where they'd checked his incision, and given him another dose of pain meds. The doctor was pissed he'd left in the first place, but thankfully, he hadn't done any more damage.

I was so worn out that I started nodding off in the chair next to his bed. That's when Hunter insisted on getting me a room. He wouldn't take no for an answer, even though I barely had the energy to argue. Despite my waning protests, he'd come with me, and the moment we hit the bed, we were out.

My sleep has been anything but peaceful. Nightmares have filled my mind—images of all the things I'd learned about myself, about Gus, but mostly about my missing Diablos. The fear, the uncertainty, keeps swirling, turning every dream into a twisted mess of anxiety.

And now, here I am, wide awake, drenched in sweat, and no closer to finding them.

My shaking fingers trace the necklace still wrapped around my throat. My earrings and the rest of my jewelry are on the nightstand. I couldn't handle them being much further than that. I swallow hard. It's stupid, but they're the last things the guys gave me. They're a reminder of their kindness, their love.

I pick up an earring, holding it in the glimmer of light, shifting it this way and that. My brows furrow. Stone said there were trackers in every piece of my jewelry, but I can't see them. To the naked eye, they're completely invisible. It's genius, really. Pain lances through me as my mind flickers back to their cufflinks. Wherever they are, all I can do is hope that no one discovers the trackers.

If they do…

I drop the earring and cup my mouth, just in time to catch a sob before it wakes Hunter up. I'm so overwhelmed, so worried, and I don't know what to do to fix it.

When I was in that room with a table full of strangers, I could barely process all the pieces of information being thrown at me. It felt like one blow after another. There was so much, and yet, it felt like not nearly enough. As if they held all the answers, and were merely offering me scraps to keep me satisfied. Even after all these hours of processing, I still don't understand the full picture. I'm not any closer to leaving here and saving the guys. I can't even save myself.

A whimper escapes me as my heart twists painfully.

How am I meant to do this? I'm not the girl who charges in and rescues people. I'm not a fighter. I'm not who they think I am.

Princess of the Bay.

Princess, my ass. I'm not royalty or a mafia leader.

I'm not Skylar Moreau.

I'm nothing.

"Ella?" Hunter murmurs. I squeeze my eyes shut, tightening my hold on my mouth. Fuck. I didn't want him to wake up. His arm slides around my waist, tugging me against his body, and my hand falls, spilling my demons into the silent room. "Fuck. Baby, look at me."

I shake my head, bury my face into a pillow, and cry. He tenses for a long moment, then lets out a breath and bundles me in his arms. The feeling of him wrapped around me is all I need to let everything go; every worry, every anxious thought. All the ugly images I've pictured in my head are woven with the terrifying things I learned about Gus, about the man who holds my men captive.

Once the floodgates open, they become impossible for me to close again. Everything hits all at once, making it difficult to breathe.

Fears about the unknown, my shaky future, the fact I witnessed my own parents dying. Every ounce of pain about my newly recovered childhood, the love I felt from Miles and Charlotte— my parents. The years we lost at the hands of a madman.

Evelyn and Daniel's betrayal. The secrets and lies they told to keep up the pretense of being my foster parents. They watched me self-destruct. Fall apart. Attempt to kill myself. They saw it all and said nothing. Did nothing.

Why? Out of some obligation to Madeline and her dictatorship? For fear of being discovered by Augustus?

If they were that fucking scared, why stay in the city at all? Why not bundle me up and run away with me?

What am I missing?

At the root of it all is her…Madeline. The woman I thought to be my mother.

And despite my anger toward her, I can't help but remember the sacrifices she made to remain at my side in a world she never asked for, pretending to be my mom, while never having the chance to have a family of her own. I recall the tears she used to hide, the blank look on her face when she thought no one was looking. How gaunt she was back then. She was tired and depressed.

Was she lonely? Did she watch the way Miles and Char loved me, knowing the secrets they all kept, and long for a family of her own? Did she see the way Miles kissed Char and hoped for a love like theirs to come her way eventually? Did she hate them for what they asked her to do?

Did she hate me?

And after all that, she was right here in San Francisco, living a life with these people who knew and loved my parents. She was here and never once came for me. Whether her intention or not, the deep cavern of pain it causes hits just as hard. It makes me feel unwanted, and that's something I've already spent a lifetime feeling.

Every question, every worry, is followed by another, until the room is spinning, and the urge to run is pulsing through me.

I gasp for breath, a hand clutched around my throat, and jolt upright. His arms fall from my body, and I feel his loss deep in my bones. The room spins and I know I'm liable to throw up the meager meal I had earlier if I don't calm down.

"Isabella," Hunter rasps. "My love. Look at me."

I shake my head, staring into the dark void around us, but seeing nothing. I feel him shift, the bed bouncing as he moves, and then I'm suddenly tugged on his lap. I blink rapidly, finding him leaning against the cushioned headboard with me straddling his legs. His hands come up to cup my face, forcing me to focus on him, and nothing else.

"That's my good, sweet girl," he murmurs, sending shocked zaps of pleasure throughout my numb body. "Keep your pretty eyes on me. Just like before. That's it, baby. No one and nothing else can touch you here. No one can hurt you. I've got you. Do you trust me?"

His soothing, familiar voice breaks through the haze. I finally suck in a tiny breath and nod. He coos, praising me sweetly, and continues to murmur words of assurance and love until my body relaxes.

With nothing but a sliver of light to illuminate him, he looks worn down and exhausted. There are dark bags under his eyes, made worse by the shadows. The fine lines between his brows, the ticking muscle beneath his jaw, are all exaggerated, making him appear so much older than he is.

But under all that, he's still my Hunter. My best friend. My rock.

He's still my peace.

And right now, with his eyes on mine, he's the only thing keeping me above water. "Hunter."

"Just tell me what you need," he murmurs, pulling my face closer until we're only inches apart. "Anything you need, it's yours. All you need to do is ask."

I don't know what I need.

That's the problem.

I need everything and nothing all at once. I need the pain and worries to go away. I need to not feel so out of control, so alone. I'm terrified of what could be happening to the guys right now. Heartbroken about my parents, and everything Gus has taken from so many people. I'm humiliated by how weak I constantly feel in a world that expects strength.

And right now, as I stare into his hazel eyes while his familiar warmth pours into my icy skin, I'm confused.

Confused because despite everything else raging through me, there's still that blossoming tendril of lust that I feel every time Hunter is around. I'm horrified that my exhausted body can possibly be turned on when the other parts of my soul are missing.

How am I meant to put any of that into words?

His eyes flit between mine and something akin to understanding fills his handsome face. Hunter's fingers flex against my cheek before sliding back and gently slipping through my tangled hair. He uses his grip to tug my head back, forcing me to look up at him. I suck in a sharp breath at the welcome burst of pain.

"Say it," he softly demands. "Tell me what you need."

I lift a shoulder, weakly shrugging. My tongue darts out, wetting my dry lips, and his eyes trace the movement, flaring with heat as he groans.

My heart hammers against my chest. Does he feel it too?

"You know what you want, baby. Just be my good girl and say it," he whispers as he lifts his knees, causing my body to slide forward. My hands quickly land on his chest for balance, just as my core comes into contact with his surprisingly hard cock.

I gasp, my eyes jolting to his. There's so much heat there, it takes my breath away.

Hunter wants me to tell him what I need, what I want, but I can't. Because what I want is to turn my brain off and forget. For just a little while, I want to not be consumed with the horror-show happening inside of me.

But Hunter isn't just a place to escape. He's so much more. No. I can't ask for what I want. It wouldn't be fair. I swallow hard, glancing away, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

"Don't hide from me," he murmurs, drawing my face up with a finger beneath my chin. "I'm being serious. If all you want to do is tell me about what's on your mind, then ignore the little fucker poking a hole in your thigh, and talk to me."

I huff a breath and shoot him a mock glare. "It's not little and you know it."

He gives me a cocky smirk, making me roll my eyes.

"No?" His hips lift at the same time he grips my hips and pushes me down. My body jolts like I've been electrocuted, and he chuckles. "I think I'd like to hear a lot more about what you think of my cock."

"Shut up," I hiss, shoving the uninjured side of his chest.

"I don't want to," he mutters, slipping his hands under my borrowed shirt. The second his warm skin meets my bare hips, my vision goes fuzzy. "Tell me about how big and hard I feel against your little panties. Tell me how massive I am between your thighs, Elle. I've been dying to hear the words on your lips for too fucking long."

"God," I groan, shaking my head as I do everything in my power to ignore the effect his words have on me. "You're so damn full of yourself, Hunter Morris."

He tugs the baggy shirt down and presses a kiss to my collarbone, rasping husky words against my skin. "You can be full of me, too. All you have to do is ask."

I bite my lip hard enough that blood fills my mouth. I know he's joking in an attempt to make me feel better, but all he's doing is turning me on and confusing me.

Does he really want to take things further with me? Is that something I even want? Right now, when I should be plotting and hunting down Augustus? When I should be doing everything in my power to get the guys back.

"No," Hunt says firmly. "Don't disappear on me again. Stay right here with me, baby. Right in this room. Can you do that for me?"

"I don't know how," I tell him honestly.

I feel like I'm floating between realities. Like I'm being pulled between existences. This moment with his body pressed against mine doesn't feel real and I'm half-worried I'm still dreaming. My mind is a twisted, ugly place. My heart is split into five. I'm so torn, I'm surprised I'm not laying in a shattered heap on the floor.

He leans back, locking eyes with me. "Tell me what you see."

With the faint glow of light cascading across his handsome features, I can just make out his dilated pupils, and the scruff covering his sharp jaw.

"You," I breathe. Just him. Only him.

He cocks a brow, but doesn't comment. "What do you smell?"

My eyes fall shut as I take a slow, deep inhale. My nose scrunches and my lip twitches. "You need a shower."

"Oh, now you've done it."

His fingers tighten around my hips as he tickles me. A snort slips free as I giggle, falling against his warm chest. My eyes water from how hard I laugh, but I never once tell him to stop. Laughing is better than the void that had been steadily sucking me under.

When he finally pulls away, I'm breathing hard and wiping tears from my cheeks, but I feel lighter.

"Okay?" he murmurs. I nod, giving him a soft smile he returns. "Tell me what you feel."

My fingers twist in his shirt and I fight the urge to ask him to remove it. I want to feel his skin against mine. Want to feel his heart beating under my palm.

For the first time in my life, I want to feel Hunter's body against mine without the threat of someone lording over us, forcing things he has no right to demand. I want his body with nothing between us. No secrets, no lies, no demons.

Just us.

Just desire.

Just love .

As if he can see the unspoken need written across my face, Hunter rolls my body against his rhythmically, until the head of his dick hits me in just the right place. A tiny moan slips free and I squeeze my eyes shut, embracing the pleasure rolling through me.

"Tell me, love," he grunts, his voice guttural. "Tell me exactly what you feel, and I swear to God, I'll make you see stars. Tell me what I want to hear, and I'll reward you."

"Hunt…" I shake my head.

It's not that easy. It can't be that easy. It shouldn't be. I don't deserve to feel what he's offering.

His cockhead presses against my clit, causing wetness to coat my already drenched panties, and I moan. My nipples are hard, my breasts aching for his touch. Every part of me is alive, begging for something only Hunter can give me. I want to give in so damn badly. Want to rip our clothes off and sink down his throbbing length. I want to lose myself in him, kiss him until I'm a trembling mess, fuck him until he's all that exists in my world.

I can't.

Yet I find myself rubbing my dripping pussy against him, anyway. With my fingers wrapped in the fabric of his shirt, I work myself over his length slowly. It feels so damn good, but it's not enough. I want his lips on mine. I want his hands all over my skin, touching, exploring, feeling. I want to disappear, and then I want to soar.

"Please," I whisper, asking for everything, begging for the things I can't vocalize. "Hunter, please."

"You have to say it," he demands.

I shake my head, quickening my pace. His grip tightens, stalling my movements, and I groan painfully. "I c-can't."

"You have to, baby."

Saying it feels like a betrayal. I know the guys have given me their permission to explore things with Hunter. I know they just want me to follow my heart, to be happy. But how can I let myself feel such great pleasure when they're out there with him ?

"I told you I would never take from you again," Hunter says, his words cutting through the thick haze of lust and confusion blanketing me. "I will never take something you're not offering. I'm seconds from busting through my fucking boxers, and I will still never take from you. You have to offer yourself to me, baby. You have to say the words."

"We can't have sex," I rasp out. "You're hurt."

He chuckles against my throat and licks a long path across my heated skin. His teeth latch onto the sensitive patch just below my ear, and I jolt at the sharp sting.

"I'm fine," he murmurs. "But I agree. No sex."

I don't know why, but a tendril of disappointment floods my needy system. My shoulders drop and he pulls back, giving me an amused look.

"I didn't say we can't do anything." His brows waggle, making me grin. "But I'm still waiting."

It takes a moment for his words to make sense, but when they do, I release a long breath. Fuck.

"I feel," I start, swallowing hard. "I feel your shirt." I tighten my fingers around the material and narrow my eyes. "I don't like it. You should take it off."

Hunter scoffs. "But if I take off my shirt, you'll get too distracted by my beauty and forget what you're supposed to be doing."

"Your ego knows no bounds," I say dryly. He doesn't even flinch, just cocks an expectant brow and rolls his hips as if in reminder. I groan. Christ, he's killing me. "Fine. I feel your big, hard dick rubbing against my throbbing clit, and it's making my pussy so wet, I'm worried that I'm ruining your only pair of boxers."

Hunter's eyes are wide as he chokes out a shocked sound.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Isabella," he sputters. "Where did you learn to talk like that? No. You know what? I don't want to hear." Before I can blink, he's got me on my back, and is lowering himself between my thighs. "If I have to hear you tell me how filthy Maddox's mouth is, I'm liable to bust my load all over these fancy fucking sheets, and then I'll never hear the end of it."

I choke out a shocked laugh, but it dissolves into nothingness as he slowly pushes my shirt up. He pauses just below my breasts and meets my eyes.

"Say it, my love," he whispers, his voice breaking. "Ask me to touch you. I need to hear you say it."

And for the first time, I understand why.

This isn't a game for Hunter. He's not making me say the words just to torture me.

I see the pain in his eyes. I see the horrors, the nightmares, he still lives with. Everything Eric made us do, the things he took from us, still weigh so heavily on Hunter. No matter how many times I've told him our past isn't his fault, he still blames himself.

My throat tightens, and I reach down, threading my fingers through his long hair. Everything else disappears. There is nothing and no one beyond this room, this moment. Just him and I. No painful past, no unknown future, just now.

"I love you, Hunter Morris," I whisper, meaning it with every bone in my body. His eyes flare. "I've loved you for as long as I've known you, but my love for you has changed. It's grown. You're not just my best friend anymore, you're my love, my soul mate."

I swallow hard against an unexpected ball of emotion.

"I want to spend days with you wrapped around me, talking about everything and nothing. I want days filled with laughter, and nights filled with pleasure."

I release his hair and slide my hands up my stomach, shivering with anticipation. When I reach the hem of my shirt, I tug it over my body, revealing my bare chest and pebbled nipples. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes wide as they take me in. I drop the shirt onto the floor and scoot back. My hands shake as I slowly slip my drenched panties down my thighs. They fall next to the shirt, and then I'm completely naked in front of him.

"When I say I want you, Hunter Morris, I mean, I want you in every way."

Dropping onto my knees, I place my hands on my thighs and spread my legs, showing him every inch of my naked body, and giving him my ultimate submission. I know he doesn't need it, but he deserves it. More than that, I need him to understand. There is not a single ounce of me that doesn't trust Hunter implicitly.

"I'm all yours," I vow. "What are you going to do with me?"