Chapter 18 – Blue （February 16）
The news anchor on the flat-screen TV looks serious, her brow furrowed as she reads the teleprompter, but to me, she looks like an angel of vengeance.
“…federal agents raided the Horizon Wellness headquarters early this morning after a viral video seen by millions on Valentine’s day, seizing servers and documents related to the so-called ‘Death-Suit’ files leaked two days ago.
CEO Dr. Aris Thorne has been taken into custody, facing shocking charges of multiple murders, fraud, racketeering and a long list of other crimes.
The DOJ has stated that this is likely the largest medical fraud case in California history… ”
The screen cuts to footage of Thorne being led out of her Napa estate, her hands cuffed behind her back, her head ducked low to avoid the flashing cameras.
She looks small and defeated and I fucking love it.
I sip my coffee, leaning back against the kitchen island of the rental house.
The rage that has fueled me for four years, the fire that burned a hole in my chest where my heart used to be…
it’s just gone. It didn't explode; it just evaporated, leaving behind a quiet, clean space.
"Satisfied?"
I turn to see Damon standing in the doorway, a tablet tucked under his arm. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking relaxed in a way I’ve rarely seen him.
"More than satisfied," I grin, nodding at the screen. "I’m free."
Andre walks in from the garage. He’s carrying the last of our bags. "The rental SUV is wiped and returned. We clean up here and then we’re ghosts, Blue."
"That brings us to Betty," Marcus says, bouncing into the room with Skipper tucked under one arm like a football. "It’s time to say goodbye to the rust bucket. No offense to your Betty, but she smelled like wet dog and sadness."
"Hey," I protest, though I’m smiling. "She served me well."
"She was a life raft," Andre agrees, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. He rests his chin on top of my head, his solid warmth seeping into my back. "But you don't need a raft anymore. You’re on solid ground."
"Come on," Damon says, jerking his head toward the front door. "We’ve got something for you. A little belated Valentine’s gift."
I frown. "I thought the three of you were my gift?"
Damon winks. "We’re the gift that keeps on giving. This is... the wrapping paper."
I follow them out the front door, Skipper yapping excitedly in Damon’s arms. The San Francisco fog has lifted, leaving a crisp, bright morning.
Parked in the driveway, where the rental SUV used to be, is a beast. It’s a brand-new, long-wheelbase Mercedes Sprinter 4x4, matte black. It sits high on all-terrain tires, with a roof rack loaded with solar panels and a light bar. It looks like a tactical command center on wheels.
My jaw drops. "What is this?"
"This," Marcus says, walking over to run a hand along the sleek metal side, "is Betty 2.0. Or whatever you want to call her."
"We bought the shell," Andre explains, stepping up beside me. "The engine is top-tier, the suspension is upgraded for off-road. But the inside..." He slides the side door open.
I peer inside. It’s empty. Just bare metal walls, insulation, and subflooring. It’s a blank canvas.
"It’s empty," I say, confused.
"It’s a project," Marcus tells me, coming up to stand on my other side.
"We didn't want to buy something pre-built. We figured... We're a team of specialists, right? Damon can wire the smart systems and the security. Andre can build the cabinets and the framing. I’ll handle the aesthetics and the soft furnishings because, let’s face it, I have the best taste. "
"And you," Damon says, looking at me with those soft, intelligent eyes. "You design it. You tell us what you need. A desk for hacking? A king-sized bed for... recreational activities? A dedicated treat dispenser for the sheriff?"
I look at the empty metal cavern but I don't see an empty van. I see a future. I see late nights parked on a cliffside, Damon coding while I make us food, Andre driving us through a storm, and Marcus making us laugh until we can't breathe. I see a home that we’ll build together, piece by piece until we’re ready to settle somewhere permanently.
"Is there enough room for a bed big enough for four?" I ask, my voice thick with emotion.
"We measured," Andre rumbles against my ear. "It’ll be tight. But we like tight."
I laugh, a sound that bubbles up from that new, clean space in my chest.
"It’s perfect," I whisper. "It’s absolutely perfect."
Damon sets Skipper down inside the van. She immediately trots to the center, sniffs the floor, spins in a circle, and barks.
"She approves," Damon says. "That’s the last sign-off we needed."
Andre hands me a set of keys.
"Where to, Blue?" he asks. "North? South? We have enough cash left over to go anywhere. We can disappear, or we can find the next mark. It’s your call. We’ll follow you anywhere."
I close my fingers around the keys. The metal bites into my palm, grounding me.
I look at the three men standing around me.
My family. And then I glance down at the news alert on my phone I flagged from this morning.
It’s about another corrupt CEO being investigated thanks to the files I released.
There are a lot of dirty, greedy fuckers out there.
A lot of people who think they’re untouchable.
I take in the van again, our new mobile headquarters. We should break it in, make sure it will work for us and there’s only one way to do that.
"I think," I say, a slow, wicked grin spreading across my face, "that there’s a hedge fund manager in Chicago who’s been shorting pension funds. I read about him on the forums."
Marcus’s eyes light up. "Chicago deep dish and a new con? I’m in."
"I can have a dossier on him in an hour," Damon smirks, already pulling out his phone.
Andre just smiles, that rare, possessive smile that makes my knees weak. "Chicago it is."
I climb into the driver's seat of the new van.
It smells like new car and potential. Skipper hops into the passenger seat, looking at me expectantly.
The guys pile in with Marcus claiming shotgun to navigate, Andre and Damon sprawl in the back on the temporary beanbags they must have thrown in.
I put the key in the ignition and turn it.
The engine purrs to life, a low, powerful growl and when I look in the rearview mirror, three pairs of eyes look back at me with an anticipation that sends a thrill through me.
"Ready?" I ask.
"Always," they answer in unison.
I shift into gear and pull out of the driveway, leaving the rental, the city, and the ghost of the girl I used to be behind.
The End