Page 29 of Blackwood

“Pretty much yeah. Except I passed trig,” he says with a devilish grin.

“You’re insane.”

He leans in and winks at me. “Takes one to raise one.”

“It’s not about revenge anymore, Bells. It’s a mission. A war.” He looks at me. “We’re building something. For Dylan. For the kids nobody saved. And the ones no one’s even looking for.”

I sit back trying to take it all in. The books. The families. The money. The quiet war Zeke’s been fighting while I thought he was just keeping us alive.

“And how did they come in?” I ask nodding toward the others.

“O’Malley’s book,” Zeke says. “That’s what flagged me. Some code buried deep in their financial statements.” He nods toward Nate. “Instead of shutting me down, Nate reached out. Started messaging me. Testing me. Then the planning started.”

A quick nod toward Tex. “He was already working with him as his personal guard, sniper, whatever title you want to give it. Together, we built the network.”

Zeke’s eyes meet mine. “And Project Dylan was born.”

Tex smirks. “Not at first. Don’t let him get away with rewriting history. What was it again…?” He tilts his head like he’s scrolling through a mental file. “Operation ZeroTrace. That’s what you tried to name it before Dylan, right? Sounded like a sweaty gamer clan.”

“Wait, you actually named it that?” My eyes widen, and then I start laughing. “Oh my God, please tell me there’s a logo. Did you make merch? PowerPoint slides?”

Tex grins, the bastard. “Bet he had a theme song.”

Zeke scowls, jaw ticking. “I was fourteen.”

“So, what made you pick them?” I ask. “Why those families?”

“Because I did my homework,” he says. “Picked the families with baggage. Ones who lost daughters. Got burned by trafficking ops. People who already hate that world because it cost them.”

He glances toward the skyline. “They agreed to help to earn their books back. On our terms. With conditions.”

His voice hardens. “We don’t touch their other business—drugs, weapons, smuggling. As long as it doesn’t touch kids, we let it slide.”

“You’re serious?”

“They stay in their lane,” he says, voice like stone. “No children getting hurt. No exceptions. The second they cross that line, I fucking bury them.”

I look at Mr. Acronym and wait for the moral outrage. But it isn’t there. Just a clenched jaw and an exhale that feels like it’s been sitting in his lungs for years.

“My sister was taken,” he says quietly. “Seventeen. She was raped. Sold. Made it home but… not really. She killed herself a week before her eighteenth birthday.”

The words drop like a hammer.

“I’m so sorry.”

He nods once, eyes fixed on nothing. “I don’t give a damn about drugs or art heists or blood diamonds. I care about what they do to kids like her. Kids like you.”

I look between them, “So your grand plan was to what? Hand a teenage hacker with a god complex a Glock and call it good?”

Tex raises an eyebrow, not even fazed. “To be fair, we didn’t give him a gun until he turned seventeen.”

I gasp, hand to my chest in full dramatic horror. “Oh. Wow. That makes it so much better.”

Tex huffs a laugh. “Wasn’t exactly the plan. But let’s not pretend your brother isn’t a brilliant little asshole.”

Mr. Acronym adds, “He’s also saved lives. A lot of them. With Zeke, the outcomes outweigh the ethics most days.”

“We can’t save the whole world, Bells. Never could,” Zeke says looking at me, tired but steady. “But we can save the kids they try to erase. The ones nobody’s looking for. And that’s enough for me.”