Chapter 17
Our Penthouse
Ellie’s gaze sweeps the room like a sniper picking her target.
“Okay, someone better start talking before I start assigning characters and inventing my own backstory. Spoiler alert, it will involve a secret affair and at least one illegitimate heir.”
Zeke groans, rubbing his temples like he regrets every life decision that got him here. “Jesus fucking Christ, Whitmore.”
Nate mutters under his breath, “Should’ve drugged her.”
Ellie turns to him slowly, smiling like a debutante about to commit a felony. “Try it, and I’ll lace your kale smoothies with estrogen and ruin your credit score.”
“I don’t drink smoothies.”
“I’ll adapt,” she says sweetly, tossing her hair.
“Okay!” I shoot to my feet, hands out like I’m breaking up a bar fight. “Everyone breathe. Ellie, please try to chill for like five seconds. Guys, maybe don’t threaten my best friend.”
“I am totally chill,” Ellie mumbles under her breath.
“I’m not really sure how to explain it. Or where to start,” I admit, shifting nervously under the weight of everyone’s eyes.
Zeke cuts in, “Just say it fast before she tries to pitch the rights to HBO.”
Ellie shoots him a glare. “Say what you want, Broody Spice, but I know drama when I see it and this is Emmy-level.”
Tex nods to me. “Just tell her the version that won’t get us all arrested.”
I draw a breath, heart pounding. “Okay. Just… let me talk. No interruptions. No judging. No selling this to the New York Times.”
Ellie raises a brow. “Rude. I was thinking Vanity Fair. Seriously though, get talking.”
Zeke rolls his eyes so hard I think he might detach a retina.
I tell her about Arkansas. About the warm, golden years when life still felt safe. Game nights at Razorback Stadium, screaming Woo Pig until my little voice gave out. Quiet mornings at the lake house where everything smelled like pancakes and pine.
Ellie’s lips curve. “That actually sounds… kind of perfect.”
“It was,” I say softly. “Until my mom’s cancer got worse. That’s when the cracks started.” My throat tightens, but I keep going.
“And then one morning CPS just showed up. Ripped me out of my Daddy’s arms like I was luggage, not a little girl.”
Ellie’s face falls. “Jesus, Bella…”
I tell her about Miami. About Carlos. About the way he made deals like we were cattle, the punishments he handed out like he got off on the sound of kids crying. And about Zeke, barely more than a kid himself, taking every hit meant for me so I could keep breathing.
Her hand flies to her mouth. “Zeke…”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I wouldn’t have survived without him.”
Then I tell her about Dylan. Her face changes when I do. It softens in that way people do when they hear about a child who never got the chance to grow up.
“God,” she whispers. “He was just a baby.”
I take a breath. “But here’s the thing, Zeke was already hacking before Dylan.
He’d found trails, money, all of it. Families hiding rot under diamonds.
That’s how he cracked the Black Books, ledgers of power and corruption, names people would kill to protect.
He was already in them. Already building a plan. ”
Ellie blinks, stunned. “You’re telling me he was, what? Running some kind of underground war?”
“Yeah.”
My voice drops. “But after Dylan, the grief, it turned into fuel. Zeke stopped waiting. He pushed harder. Went darker. And I followed him.”
She sits back like I’d just knocked the wind out of her.
I press on. “Carlos and Vince. That last night in that house. The name change. Blowing up the car. Our death. None of it was some neat plan, El. It was survival that turned into a war.”
Ellie takes in a deep breath.
“Our life since then has been safe houses and ghost signals. Late-night runs. Whispered codes. Kids pulled out of basements and crates. Some made it out. Some didn’t.”
My throat burns. “Every mission leaves a mark. Every name in Project Dylan’s database feels personal. Because it is personal.”
For once, Ellie doesn’t have a comeback. She just stares at me, lips parted, breath catching somewhere in her throat.
Zeke steps in away from the wall. “Holy fucking shit. Whitmore’s speechless. Someone grab a camera.”
Tex laughs. “Make sure you frame it. We might never see it again.”
Nate doesn’t even look up, “Mark the date. Historic moment.”
Ellie flips them off. “Shut up.”
Then her ocean-blue eyes find mine again, and the teasing stops, just for a second. Her voice drops, softer now.
“I just… I had no idea, Bella. I mean, I knew you had secrets. But this? You were just a kid. And you’ve been carrying all of this alone?”
“I haven’t been alone,” I say quietly, glancing toward Zeke. “Not really.”
Ellie follows my gaze, then lets out a breathy laugh and wipes under her eyes like it annoyed her. “Ugh. I hate crying. It ruins my lashes.”
She reaches out and takes my hand. “I’m really proud of you, Bells. I just I need you to promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“No matter how scary shit gets, I want to be in it with you. Okay? Don’t shut me out.”
I squeeze her hand. “Okay.”
Zeke groans. “Perfect. Now she’s emotionally invested. We’re never getting rid of her ass.”
Ellie beams. “Damn right you’re not. Oooh! Does this mean I get a gun? And if so, can it be pink?”
“No!” Zeke, Tex and Nate all shout at once.