Something in his words tugs at my hazy mind, but then he starts to sew me together, and all I see is pain. I suck in a sharp breath and shove my arm into my mouth, biting down hard enough to stifle my scream.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’ll be done soon, but you’ll likely pass out from the pain first. I won’t be here when you wake up. Just take care of this and yourself. And when you’re finally back home, tell that princess of yours that I’ll be coming for a favor soon, and I’ll need the full force of Le Milieu to back me up.”
“W-what?” I stutter around my skin. Sweat burns my eyes and I try to blink past it, but it won’t stop.
He does something that sends hot, agony burning through my veins and I gasp.
“Focus, Maddox. Tell Skylar Moreau that she owesLos Jaguares del Vallea favor. Tell her the Columbian Cartel is her ally and that for this, for you, she owes me four life debts. Do not forget.”
The last thought I have before blinding pain takes me under is, who the fuck is Skylar Moreau, and why do I feel like I already know her?
Chapter 35
“Where are you going?”Hunter hisses as he half-runs, half-wobbles after me, with a cane the doctor’s forcing him to use.
I should wait. Should slow down for him. But I’m too pissed.
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. “You should be in bed.”
“I would be,” he snaps back. “If you were in it with me. Instead, you’re storming around the compound like a psychopath, scaring everyone you come in contact with!”
He’s not wrong. A point that’s only proven as I turn a corner too sharply, running right into a woman and her two small children. I stumble backward, and a warm arm wraps around me, pulling me into his chest.
“You okay?” Hunter murmurs.
I don’t respond, too busy gawking at the family who’s gawking right back at me. My eyes slide across their little bundle of identical genetics, taking in the blonde, petite woman who can’t be much older than me, and her two small children. All three have similar, heart-shaped faces and light complexions. They’re even dressed the same.
It’s fucking adorable.
The little girl, who can’t be more than five, clutches her mother’s hand while the boy, maybe six, peers up at me with wide eyes. The woman blushes, ducking her head slightly as she tries to herd her children to the side.
“I’m so sorry,” she starts, but the little boy is bouncing on his toes, his excitement palpable.
“Mommy, is that her? Is she the Queen?” he whispers, not so quietly. His sister’s eyes widen, and she tugs on her mother’s hand, her little face alight with wonder.
“Shh.” The mother tries to hush them, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink. “You don’t need to—”
“But it’s really her!” the boy insists, his eyes never leaving me. “She’s the Queen, Mommy!”
The word hits me like a punch to the gut.
Queen.
The title feels so foreign, so ridiculous. Yet here I am, standing in front of these kids who seem to think I’m something out of a fairy tale. I’ve been so consumed by the chaos, the danger, theloss, that I haven’t stopped to think about what this place really is. I haven’t realized until now that families—actual families—are living here, underground, hiding from the world above.
The little girl steps forward, releasing her mother’s hand and inching closer to me. She looks up with big, innocent eyes, and before I can react, she tugs on the hem of my shirt.
“Can I have a hug?” she asks, her voice small but full of hope.
Her mother immediately tries to intervene, her voice apologetic. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to—”
“But I’ve never met a queen before,” the girl insists, her gaze never leaving mine.
My eyes burn, and before I can stop myself, I’m dropping to a crouch, opening my arms to her. She doesn’t hesitate, throwing her chubby little arms around my neck, and the force of it nearly knocks me off balance. I hold her tight, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest. Her small body is warm against mine, and for a moment, I close my eyes, letting the simple, pure love of this child wash over me.
She has no idea who I really am. No idea of the danger I’ve brought down on this place, on these people. And yet, she looks at me like I’m something special, something good. It’s almost too much to handle.
The little girl pulls back slightly, her hands resting on my shoulders as she looks at me with a bright, toothy grin.
