Chapter 47
ELLIE
FIVE YEARS LATER
The dining room smells like sage and butter and something sweet that’s probably burning in the oven.
I’m lining up place settings—real plates, not the mismatched ones we lived with for years—when Landon slides in beside me and adjusts a fork that’s already perfectly straight.
“You’re nervous,” he says gently.
“I’m not,” I reply automatically, then sigh. “Okay. I am.”
One year out of witness protection, and I still half expect everything good to be temporary. Old instincts die hard. But today feels different. Solid. Earned.
Beckett sets down the centerpiece he insisted on making himself—autumn leaves pressed into glass, candlelight flickering warm and steady.
Dominic double-checks the seating chart like this is a diplomatic summit instead of Thanksgiving dinner.
Zane is on his third trip to the kitchen for something (no idea what, because he didn’t help cook any of the food), and Ryker—quiet, steady Ryker—rests a hand at the small of my back as he passes, grounding me without a word.
Frodo, older now, rests on his bed in the corner of the room.
Semi-back to normal. That’s what we’ve been calling it.
The Paragons of Prosperity are gone now. Not rumors, not shadows—arrested. Disbanded. Dead. The hearings are over, the last appeals denied. For the first time in years, no one is watching our house. There are no aliases taped to our fridge. There are no bags packed just in case.
We’re…free.
I still can’t wrap my head around it. I half expect to open my eyes and discover that this is nothing but a dream, and reality is a horrific nightmare I can’t escape from. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I’ll pinch myself to be sure I’m awake.
The doorbell rings.
My heart jumps—but this time it’s with excitement instead of fear.
Piper barrels in first, cheeks red from the cold, her smile bright and unapologetic. Her girlfriend follows close behind, warm-eyed and steady, carrying a bottle of wine like she’s done this a hundred times already.
“There she is,” Piper says, pulling me into a hug. “You hosting Thanksgiving like a real person now?”
“I’ve always been a real person.” I laugh.
“Debatable,” Zane mutters, and Piper flips him off affectionately.
Victoria arrives next, composed as ever, her boyfriend at her side. I haven’t met him yet, and I’m not sure if their relationship is serious, but my friend is smiling, and that’s all that matters.
Fischer shows up shortly after and pulls me into a hug. The girl with him—kind eyes, nervous laugh—meets my gaze, and something settles in my chest.
I like her immediately.
Fischer needs someone like that in his life. Someone sweet. Someone who sees his darkness and accepts him as he is. Someone who can bring a smile to his face.
“I’m glad you came,” I tell her, and I mean it.
Then Reece appears, hands in his pockets, alone.
He grins when he sees me, a little sheepish, a little too earnest. He always looks at me like I’m braver than I feel.
Like I’m something solid. I think he has a little crush on me, even after all this time, but as long as he never acts on it, we won’t have a problem.
I’m pretty sure my guys will murder him if he makes a move on me.
Actually, there’s no “pretty sure” about it. I’m one-hundred-percent certain Reece will be dead and buried if he even hints at his feelings for me.
“You need help?” he asks.
“Only if you’re good at opening stubborn wine bottles.”
“I’m a hero at that,” he says, dead serious.
I roll my eyes but smile anyway. I’m just so fucking happy. Not even Reece’s unreciprocated crush can ruin my day.
The last knock comes just as we’re all drifting toward the table.
Raymond.
The room stills—not tense, exactly, but careful. He stands there like he’s unsure whether to step forward or retreat. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have opened the door.
Now I do.
“Hi,” I say. My tone is terser than I would’ve liked.
You invited him, Ellie. Remember that. You can’t be a bitch when you extended the olive branch in the first place.
“Hi,” he answers, swallowing convulsively. He looks older. But then again, so do I. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming.”
It’s not forgiveness. Not fully. But it’s effort. And today, that counts.
Frodo barks from his bed in the corner, his tail wagging. I may not have forgiven Raymond, but my dog certainly has.
Traitor.
We gather around the table, and I marvel at how normal this feels. An innate sense of togetherness permeates the air.
It’s crowded in the best way—elbows bumping, laughter spilling, stories starting before the food is even served.
I stand once everyone’s seated, my glass raised. The room instantly quiets like a flame being snuffed out.
For a moment, words stick in my throat.
Five years ago, I didn’t know if I’d survive. If any of us would. We lived in fragments then—borrowed futures, love held tight and quiet, danger lurking around every corner.
Now look at us.
“I used to think family was something you were born into,” I begin, swallowing around the spike in my throat. “Something fixed. But I’ve learned it’s also something you build. With patience. With choice. With love—even when it’s messy or hard or unfinished.”
I glance around the table. At Piper’s infectious grin. Victoria’s nod. Fischer’s tentative happiness. Reece’s pride. Raymond’s hope.
Then I look at my guys.
Landon’s warmth. Beckett’s creativity. Dominic’s devotion. Zane’s joy. Ryker’s steady, unshakable presence.
My home.
My family.
My everything.
“So,” I finish, my voice steady now, “to family—found and chosen. To friends who stay. And to love…that gives us the courage to believe in happy endings.”
Glasses clink. Someone cheers. Zane wipes at his eye and pretends it’s allergies.
I sit back down, my heart clamoring up my throat. Ryker’s hand finds my own beneath the table, and Beckett’s knee brushes mine. Landon offers me a tentative smile, soft and knowing and full of unfettered love.
I place a hand over the protruding bump on my stomach. Our little girl should arrive in a few weeks, and I’m so fucking excited I can’t breathe.
We tried for a child numerous times—years ago, when we first decided we wanted a baby.
The doctors believed that stress made it difficult for me to conceive.
We unanimously agreed to put “baby making” on hold until everything with POP was settled.
I thought my men would be disappointed, but they told me my health and well-being were their priority. Always.
I became pregnant within weeks of leaving WITSEC and returning home.
For the first time in a long time, there’s no fear curling in my chest. No exit plan running through my head. No looking over my shoulder, afraid of every shadow and every noise.
Just this.
And I know—deep in my bones—that I already have my happy ending.