Questions. So many damn questions. But all I can muster is a joke. “I don’t even know wherehereis,” 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. “Thatlater.” 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. Ineedto. 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,ourhouse.
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.
Chapter 23
My breath catches inmy 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.
