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. Ihaveto 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 amixture 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 theLes Beaux Voyouscompound. It was built five years ago and serves as a home for the newMilieu Corso-Marseillais.”
“The what?” Hunter asks.
“And that brings us to thewho. We areLe 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.”
