Chapter 36

T he tension in the air is almost palpable as we gather on the highest level of the compound, the nerve center, where everything is coming together. The space is large, open, and filled with the low hum of activity as the teams prepare for what lies ahead. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline and nerves pump through me.

There's no turning back now.

Fuck.

My fingers tangle together as I close my eyes and breathe deeply. This has to work. It has to.

I feel him appear next to me a second before his scent hits. Warm, masculine, and something wholly mine. Hunter. His presence steadies me the way nothing, and no one else here, can. He pulls my nervous fingers apart and grips my hand tightly. My eyes flicker open, and I exhale a shaky breath. Neither of us says anything, because there's nothing left to say, but it doesn't feel awkward. Just charged.

Around us, the members of the Milieu's tactical teams are gearing up, each one moving with practiced precision. I've never seen anything like this up close—this level of organization, this kind of military operation. It's surreal. I thought my Diablos had their shit together, but this is…insane.

The gear they're wearing is impressive. Each soldier is dressed in black tactical uniforms, the kind that look like they've been designed for both stealth and protection. The fabric is heavy, reinforced in critical areas, with built-in armor plates that make them look almost invincible. Straps and buckles criss-cross their bodies, securing additional equipment—knives, radios, spare magazines. Everything is perfectly placed, ready for quick access.

If some of them weren't pseudo-related to me, I might even think the scene would be hot. The thought is creepy, so I quickly shake it away.

Instead, I picture all five of my guys decked out in tac-gear, their game faces on as they strap up with weapons. I can almost imagine Maddox spinning a knife while he kicks back in a corner, his dimples on full display. Gage would be serious, shouting at him to get his head out of his ass, while Nyx rolls his eyes and mutters to himself. Stone and Hunter…well, they'd be doing brother things.

I smirk to myself and shake my head.

Too soon. Way too soon.

I watch as sleek, black rifles are handed out, each one fitted with a suppressor, along with sidearms, and a variety of other weapons that I can't even name. Grenades, flashbangs, and other explosives are packed into specialized pouches, the soldiers handling them with a familiarity that speaks to years of experience.

I'm struck by how well-coordinated everything is. It's as if they've been preparing for this exact scenario for years, and maybe they have. For a moment, I'm taken aback by the realization that this world—the one I've been thrust into—runs far deeper than I ever imagined.

The second thing that hits me is a strong wave of fear. Do they really think it'll be that bad outside the compound? Are they scared because they haven't been outside in a long time, or is there a credible reason for this level of security?

Are we safe?

I swallow hard. It doesn't matter. This is happening, no matter what.

Shadow Team is already assembled, a group that stands out even among the others. It's led by Daniel, which is a shock I'm still trying to wrap my head around. Daniel, my foster father, who's always been a rock in my life, steady and unyielding, is now standing before me as the leader of this elite unit. He's tall, his once-graying hair now closely cropped, his face set in a determined expression. There's a sharpness to his eyes that I've never seen before, a focus that makes it clear he's not just a part of this world—he's a leader in it.

Daniel's title is fitting, though it takes me a moment to process it: Chief Tactical Commander. It sounds like something out of a movie, but the seriousness in his demeanor tells me it's anything but fiction. I never knew he was involved in the Milieu, let alone that he held such a critical role. It feels like another betrayal, but on the tail end of that is pride. So much fucking pride that I don't even have a right to.

Beside him, Evelyn is strapping into her gear with the same efficiency as the others. Her movements are quick, precise, and there's no sign of the worry I know she must be feeling. She's always been the heart of our little family, the one who kept us together. Seeing her here, so composed, only adds to the surreal nature of this moment.

She looks up and shoots me a reassuring smile that instantly makes my shoulders drop.

I can be mad and hurt all I want about the fact that these people kept an entire world from me, but at the end of the day, they also kept that world running. A world filled with innocents and families. They kept it safe from the enemies on the outside, all the while protecting and loving me. Giving me a shot at normalcy. We all made mistakes, but Daniel and Evelyn are kind souls, and despite it all, I love them.

Bobby, the big man who had taken me from the parking lot, is securing his own weapons with a kind of quiet resolve. He's built like a tank, his massive frame almost dwarfing the others, but there's a gentleness in his eyes that contrasts sharply with his appearance. I'm grateful he's on our side.

Then there's the small, thin man called The Surgeon. He's almost the exact opposite of Bobby, with a wiry frame and quick, darting eyes that take in everything around him. He moves with a kind of nervous energy, his hands deft as he checks and rechecks his equipment. Despite his size, there's an intensity about him that makes it clear he's not someone to underestimate.

And finally, there's Ghost. I haven't seen his face—he's always masked, his features hidden behind black and gray fabric. He's massive, even larger than Bobby, but unlike the others, he keeps to the shadows, his presence barely noticeable unless you're looking for it. He's quiet, so quiet that it's unnerving, and he won't make eye contact with me. But I've been told he's good at getting in and out without being seen, and that's all that matters right now.

Even if he does give me the creeps.

The spicy creeps. Is that a thing? Feels like a thing.

My head tilts as I watch him check a Beretta over. His hands move in a practiced motion that reminds me far too much of my guys. I wonder if I could get them to wear masks for me sometime.

"Whatever you're thinking," Hunter murmurs, sliding his arms around my waist. I shiver against him as his breath ghosts across my throat. "You better knock it off if you don't want me to die in the next few minutes."

I gasp. "Why would you even say that?"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "Because I don't give a fuck how big that creepy fucker is. You keep checking him out, and I'm going to have to challenge him to a duel."

My mouth falls open, but before I can say anything, Daniel is clearing his throat and barking orders. I shake my head, my shoulders trembling from how hard I'm trying not to laugh. Hunter squeezes my biceps and steps back. All the tension before leaves me in a whoosh, and I smile, knowing that was his intention.

"Alright, everyone." Daniel claps and the room falls silent. "Let's go over things one more time."

I listen with rapt attention as each team lead barks out orders like a well oiled machine. With every word, my nerves slowly shift to something else. Excitement. Anticipation. It's finally happening. After days of waiting, we're finally getting them back.

Hunter and I have been placed in the Shadow Team and are heading to the house. The plan is for me to go in with them, and with Oliver's remote help, hack the computer. It's our best shot at finding the guys, and I'm clinging to that hope like a lifeline.

But Shadow Team isn't the only group preparing. A second team, Strike Team Bravo, is getting ready across the room. This team is led by Robert and Madeline, along with Jean-Luc, who gives me a kind smile as he straps himself into his gear. There are three others with them, their faces unfamiliar but their actions confident. Strike Team Bravo will be heading to the Den, our second-best hope. The air around them is charged with tension, but there's also a sense of determination. They know what's at stake.

A third team, Alpha Unit, is preparing to head to Rush, the guys' bar. They're hoping to find another computer there, or any sign of the guys. The team is made up of equally formidable individuals, their faces hardened with resolve. I don't know their names, but I can see they're ready for whatever comes next. Thank fuck, because we get no do-overs. This is our only shot.

As I watch all of this unfold, I'm surprised by how quickly everything has come together. I thought I'd have to convince them more, that I'd have to fight to get everyone on board with my plan. But as it turns out, being the queen has its perks. They've rallied behind me, and the realization fills me with both a sense of responsibility and a sliver of hope.

This is a world I didn't fully understand until now. This compound isn't just a hideout—it's a home. A fortress where families live, where people take refuge, where they find safety in numbers. It's a community, a family, and I'm their leader. Whether I wanted this role or not, it's mine now. And that means it's my job to protect them.

I can feel the weight of that responsibility pressing down on me as I watch the teams prepare. There's so much at stake, and the fear that we might not make it out of this gnaws at my insides. But I can't let that fear control me. I have to be strong. For them. For my men. For everyone who's counting on me.

Hunter is beside me, his expression serious as he checks his own gear. He's dressed just like the others, in a black tactical uniform, his movements practiced and precise. Sometimes I forget how capable he is when it comes to combat. But then my mind flashes back to that night at the tattoo shop. The way he took on all those men by himself. Men sent to kill him. He survived then. He will now, too.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low, but there's a calmness to it that steadies me.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, as I take in the scene around us one last time.

"Yeah," I say, my voice firmer than I expected. "Are you?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he murmurs, cupping my cheek. His eyes flick between mine, searching. "We will get them, my love. Even if this doesn't work out. We will find another way. I promise you that."

"Hunt—" My voice breaks. "You're doing all this for them—"

"No," he interrupts, giving me a cocky smirk. "They may be hot as hell…with the exception of my brother… " A shudder rocks him, making me smile. "But make no mistake, I am doing this for you."

With that, he presses a hard kiss on my lips, that ends far too quickly, and pulls back. His hand comes down on my ass, jolting me from my shock. I let out a squeak, and he chuckles.

"Check your guns, baby," he mutters, looking around. "We're about to leave."

Oliver steps forward, his expression a mix of worry and determination as he adjusts his glasses.

"We're set to go," he says, his voice carrying across the room. "Remember, the primary objective is to get in, gather the intel, and get out. We're not looking for a fight, but if it comes to that…" He trails off, his eyes sweeping over the gathered teams as he ruffles his messy hair. "Be ready. Comms on, everyone?"

There's a murmur of agreement, a collective readiness that's almost palpable. I can feel the energy in the room shift and it sends sparks across my skin.

My heart is pounding, my palms slick with sweat as I check my own gear. It's strange, feeling the weight of the equipment on me, knowing that this is real, that I'm about to walk into something that could change everything. But I push the fear down, focusing on the task at hand. I can't afford to let my emotions get the best of me now.

"Ella," Daniel's voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn to face him. He's standing there, fully geared up, looking every bit the leader I never knew he was. There's a softness in his eyes, though, a flicker of the man who raised me, who's always been there for me.

"Stay close to Ghost," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll get through this. Just remember your training and trust your instincts."

And by training, he means the past I've just barely remembered. I wince. No big deal.

He flicks his gaze at Hunter, a hard, but surprisingly kind, expression on his face. He squeezes his shoulder, drawing him in.

"You take care of our girl," he demands. "You hear me?"

"Yes sir," Hunter agrees, his expression just as fierce. "I won't let anything happen to her."

They stare at each other for a breath before nodding in some kind of silent agreement.

"Good. This will be over soon. Anything goes wrong, you get back to the vans. If you can't do that, you meet at the rendezvous spot. Worst-case scenario, you find each other and you fucking run. Do you understand me?"

I nod, trying to find the right words, but they seem to escape me. Instead, I step forward and hug him tightly.

"Be careful," I whisper, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

"You too, Ella-Bella," he murmurs back, giving me a squeeze before stepping back. "Both of you."

It doesn't take long before we're settled in vehicles with our teams and moving. The silence in the van is suffocating, thick with the tension that none of us dare to break.

I'm crammed in the back seat, squeezed between Hunter and Ghost, our knees brushing against each other with every bump in the road. The van is nondescript, the kind that would blend in anywhere, but there's something about it that screams top of the line. It's built for stealth, for missions like this.

Not for the first time, I wonder where all the money for this operation comes from, who funds it, and why. My head spins with questions that I'm too afraid to ask, the answers too terrifying to contemplate right now.

I blink, trying to clear my head, but the questions linger, making my stomach twist with unease.

Before I can settle into the discomfort, the van slows down, and I realize we're pulling up outside the guys' house. My heart leaps into my throat as I glance out the window, taking in the darkened exterior. The sun has long since set, officially marking six days without them. Six days since my birthday. Six days since I watched Eric die. Six days since Hunter was shot, and his blood stained my hands.

Six days since my entire world imploded.

The weight of it all presses down on me, suffocating, but I force myself to stay focused. This is it. This is our chance to bring them home.

Hunter's hand slides into mine, his grip firm and reassuring. I turn to look at him, my heart squeezing at the worry etched into his features.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks, his voice low, almost a whisper in the quiet of the van.

I'm immediately thrown back to the night of my party where we sat in another back seat. Has it only been a week since he told me how he feels about me? Admitted he's in love with me, and I did the same.

God, it feels like a lifetime ago, and yet, a lifetime with him will never be enough.

"We can leave it to the professionals," he murmurs, giving me his usual smirk. "Run away, find a beach, and have a mai tai or twenty."

A tear slips down my cheek, and I quickly blink it away, offering him a soft smile. "I love them, Hunt."

Again. I'm struck by deja vu so fiercely, my world spins.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. "I know you do."

"Are you okay with that?" I ask, my voice barely audible, but the question feels like it's burning a hole in my chest. I need to know. I need to hear him say it, even if it's not what I want to hear.

His jaw clenches, the muscle ticking with tension. "I never thought I would be, but I'm learning for you there are no bounds to what I wouldn't give, what I wouldn't agree to."

"But that's not the same as being okay with it," I quickly say, my heart pounding in my chest. "Hunt—"

"Sorry, Ms. Moreau." Bobby's deep voice cuts through the tension, sounding almost apologetic as he glances back at us. "It's now or never. We have to go."

Hunter's gaze lingers on mine for a beat longer before he lets out a slow breath, nodding at Bobby. We file silently out of the van, the cold night air biting against my skin. But the words Hunter said, and the ones he didn't say, echo in my mind, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

The night is eerily still, with only the faint rustling of leaves in the distance. We move in a tight formation, our footsteps silent on the gravel driveway. It feels like a military operation, each step calculated, every breath measured. The tension radiates off everyone, tightening the air around us.

We reach a hidden entrance to the house tucked beneath a thick cropping of trees. The door leads to a storage closet in the back of the gym. An escape measure they installed with the panic rooms and armory.

I close my eyes, running through the layout of the house they so carefully and thoughtfully constructed. On the other side of the door, I can clearly picture the closet, the towel rack I'll have to shove to the side, and the second steel-inforced door with another coded panel…

It's a lot, and it makes me smile.

Between my four Diablos, there's no limit to their protectiveness. A deluded part of me hopes they're still inside, alive and waiting for us, but I know it's nothing but a pipe dream.

We push through the trees silently, Daniel and Bobby leading the way. To my right, I can sense Hunter, and behind me, Evelyn and Ghost close the ranks. It doesn't escape me that I'm protected on all sides. It's wild, to say the least.

In my ear, I hear a nearly silent click, warning me that someone's going to speak.

"I've got eyes on the sky," Oliver says quickly. "Infrared drones have cleared the house. There are no bodies inside."

For some reason, my shoulders drop.

"You're clear to enter with caution."

"Roger," Daniel quietly responds as he turns to face me. "You're up, E."

With a steady exhale, I step up to the back door, my fingers trembling as I type in the code. The keypad beeps softly, the green light flashing as the door unlocks. My hand wraps around the handle, the cool metal grounding me for a moment.

Just as I go to pull the door open, a dark shadow moves beside me. Ghost suddenly appears, his massive frame nearly blending into the night. He reaches out and unwraps my hand from the handle, his touch surprisingly gentle. My eyes widen as he leans in, his face mere inches from mine. The only thing visible under his creepy gray and black mask are the whites of his eyes, glowing eerily in the darkness.

"Let me, my queen," he murmurs, his voice so low it's almost a growl.

A shiver runs down my spine at the way he says it—so calm, so sure. I open my mouth to argue, to tell him that I can do it, but before I can get a word out, he shoves me into Hunter's waiting arms, who pulls me away and turns our bodies, blanketing me. Protecting me.

It pisses me off, and I barely resist the urge to stomp on his annoying toes.

We all seem to hold our breath as Ghost slowly pulls the door open. I hear the beep, beep, beep that signals the first alarm disengaging. We pause for a beat, then let out a collective sigh.

"Well, that was easy," Hunter murmurs.

I hear someone scoff, then the sound of fabric and metal shuffling. I wiggle from his arms, none too gently. I may accidently elbow his stomach. He grunts and I spin, shooting him a glare in the dark.

"Don't ever do that again, Hunter Morris," I whisper-hiss.

His eyes go wide. "Do what?"

I shove his uninjured shoulder gently. "Protect me with your body. It's becoming a habit and I hate it."

Even in the dark, I can see his brows waggle. "But I'm your knight, my queen. That's my job."

My mouth falls open, an argument sitting on my tongue. But before I can say anything, a hand on my shoulder has my mouth snapping shut.

"Not that this isn't adorable," Bobby murmurs. "But it's a really fucking bad time to be arguing. Maybe save this for home, yeah?"

I swallow hard at his gentle chiding, but it's the single word that rocks me to my core.

Home.

The compound is…nice. Family oriented and incredible. But it's not home.

My eyes flick to the tall, modern structure before me. The scent of the gym mats and boxing equipment are strong enough to permeate the still night air around us.

If I close my eyes, I can picture the guys sparring shirtless. Can practically taste the sweat dripping down Gage's muscular body. I can hear Maddox chasing me around the house, and my laughter as he tickles me. Can picture Stone's quiet moments where he ties me up, and I finally let go of the anxiety that's plagued me for years. I can hear Nyx bitching me out while staring at me with eyes so full of love, I don't know how I ever missed them before.

And now, I can perfectly see Hunter sprawled out on the couch, his guitar in his arms as he sings to me, the feeling of warmth surrounding us for the first time in our lives.

This is home.

It's unexpected, a surprise in every way. But it's mine—ours, and I'll fight for it with everything I have.

As we move forward, slowly and silently, through the storage closet, I turn to Hunter and grab his hand to get his attention.

I blink past the sudden burst of emotion and whisper, "Maybe if we have time, we can grab your guitar." His brows lift and I shrug, blushing. "It might make you feel more at home."

His eyes are soft as he smiles and pushes my hair back. "You're the sweetest girl," he murmurs. "Always thinking of everyone else. But if we have time, we should get some of your stuff. Just to tide you over until—"

"Hunter," Daniel rumbles. "Stop flirting with my daughter."

I chuckle, shaking my head at his exasperated tone, but I can't ignore the butterflies in my stomach at him casually calling me his daughter— still .

"Code," Ghost quietly barks as Hunter pulls me into his arms. I settle against him and call out the code, knowing the guys can just change it when we're back home.

Hunter presses a kiss against my throat, and for the first time since this all started, I finally feel a sense of hope. I know without a shadow of a doubt that the answers we need are on Stone's computer. We'll track them, and by tomorrow, they'll be back in my arms.

It's almost over.

Beep, beep—BOOM!