VELVET GUN
Ellie wore grief like perfume — invisible but suffocating, sharp, bitter, lingering.
Lena kept the house moving. Kazuo helped keep the books straight. Thomas had returned from overseas bruised but alive and now ran the security detail like a war general. And Ellie? Ellie ran everything else. She signed the deals, she handled the pickups, she issued the hits. She smiled at clients and shot liars in the kneecaps but behind closed doors? She broke over and over again. Once, Lena found her in Amy’s closet, curled up inside one of her long trench coats, inhaling the fabric like it might bring her back. Another time, Thomas walked in on her sitting at Amy’s desk,
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