Miles, Richie, and Billie are already on their feet, grabbing Bean and their stuffies, charging back into the cabin with a chorus of giggles.
The door slams behind them, and I shake my head, chuckling.
Cole downs the last of his beer, standing.
“Alright, time to finish these burgers and get back to work,” Cole says. “That flash drive’s might need some encouragement from a new software I’ve been wanting to try out.”
Max nods, grabbing his whisky glass.
“Yeah, let’s see what Knox is hiding,” Max growls. “I’m ready to bury that sleaze.”
I stand, brushing crumbs off my jeans, my own glass in hand.
“Let’s do it,” I say, full of intent. “Those Littles are gonna turn the place into a fort by the time we’re done.”
We head inside, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around us, the boys’ laughter echoing from the living area.
The office waits, that decoding rig still humming, and I know whatever’s on that drive will change everything.
But with Miles’ giggles in my ears and my brothers at my side, I’m ready—for the fight, for him, for this family I never knew I could have.
Chapter 21
Miles
“Hmmmm,” I say, my frustration threatening to boil over. “Pfffft.”
My restlessness aside, the safehouse is quiet, save for the faint creak of the cabin settling and the distant hoot of an owl in the woods outside.
I’m in bed, the soft flannel sheets tangled around my legs, Bean clutched tight under my arm, his button eyes glinting in the moonlight streaming through the window.
But sleep won’t come.
My mind’s racing, spinning with thoughts of Travis, Cole, and Max in the study, hunched over Cole’s laptop, cracking open that flash drive I stole from Kyle Knox’s office.
The weight of it—those secrets about Obsidian Ventures, the cartel, the death threat—sits heavy in my chest, keeping me tossing and turning. I want to know what they’re finding, what Kyle’s hiding, how deep this mess goes.
I’m part of this, and lying here, staring at the ceiling, feels like being sidelined.
I sit up, my romper rustling. Bean in hand, I slip out of bed, my bare feet silent on the cool hardwood. The cabin’s dark, the glow from the study’s closed door the only light downstairs…
I creep to Richie’s room first, tapping softly. He’s awake, his curls a mess, his bumblebee romper askew.
“Can’t sleep either?” Richie whispers, grabbing his stuffy.
“Nope,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Let’s get Billie. We need a Littles Meeting.”
Billie’s in the next room, already sitting up, his star-patterned romper glowing faintly in the dark.
“I knew you’d come,” Billie says, snatching his stuffy.
We tiptoe to the kitchen, the heart of the cabin, where moonlight spills across the butcher-block island.
I grab a carton of milk from the fridge, pouring it into three pastel mugs, while Richie rummages in a tin for chocolate chip cookies. We settle at the island, our stuffies propped beside us, the cookies crumbling as we dip them in milk.
“Okay,” I say, licking crumbs off my fingers. “They’re in there, working on the flash drive, figuring out Kyle and the cartel. I can’t just sit back. I stole that drive. I’m in this.”
Richie nods, his eyes fierce despite the milk mustache on his lip. “Same. Cole’s all ‘leave it to us,’ but we’re not helpless. We can help.”
