Noah's Adventure - 17. The build into chaos

I took advantage of the brief lull in the frantic search for Little B and turned my attention to Shiloh.

“How are you holding up?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

There was sadness there—raw and aching—but beneath it burned fury. I knew that look. My mother had hated me for reasons I still didn’t fully understand. For Shiloh, it was worse. It was both his parents.

“I thought it was temporary,” he said quietly. “Just until they worked things out. That’s what they told us.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Shane asked, swiveling in his chair as he caught sight of his brother breaking down.

“Our fucking parents want to terminate their parental rights,” Shiloh said, his voice cracking as tears spilled over.

“They don’t fucking matter,” Shawn snapped. “They haven’t been parents in years.”

That got Grayson’s attention. He pulled out his tablet instantly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, already taking notes.

“From a young age, the four of us were basically on our own,” Shawn said, anger sharpening every word. “Our mom used to say she only wanted one baby. Just one. And she got four.”

“That’s messed up,” Dom muttered. I nodded.

“We spent most of our childhood bouncing between beaches—Jersey Shore, Delaware, Maryland,” Shawn continued. “Our grandparents took turns watching us until we were old enough to travel alone. At first our parents came with us. Stayed in the beach house. Then… they just stopped coming.”

The memories lit something behind his eyes.

“Silas was the oldest,” Shane said, his jaw tightening. “The favorite. The golden child.” He scoffed. “But Silas never let it go to his head. He protected us. Especially Shiloh.”

“That’s why losing him destroyed me,” Shiloh said softly. “My twin. My confidant. The only person who truly understood me.”

“Hey,” Shawn said gently. “We understand you too. We shared the womb, remember?”

Shiloh smiled faintly, then shook his head. “It was different with Silas. When I came out to him, we hugged and cried. He told me he had my back. That if anyone messed with me, I just had to tell him—and he’d handle it.”

“He sounds like the perfect brother,” I said. My voice wavered despite my effort to steady it.

“It sounds like us,” Dom added. “I don’t know where I’d be without Damien.”

They exchanged a small, knowing smile.

“Speaking of brothers,” I said, the weight of the moment crashing back in, “where is Little B?”

That question sucked the air from the room.

“What exactly did my brother draw?” Dom asked.

I slid the paper across the table.

Shock spread across every face as they studied it.

“He always talked about a friend when he was younger,” Dame said slowly. “We assumed it was imaginary.”

Who wouldn’t?

Grandma appeared then—disheveled, furious, her composure cracked.

“Are you okay, Grandma?” I asked.

She dragged a hand through her hair before answering. “We have a problem, Grayson. And I don’t know how to say this.”

“What happened?” Grayson asked, concern sharpening his tone.

“Nothing yet,” she said. “But Tristan and Little B are planning something big. No one can find him. And no one is talking.”

“Did you contact the distant relatives?” Grayson asked.

“I did. Silence across the board,” Grandma said grimly. “Which tells me everything.”

“That it’s huge,” Grayson murmured.

“How can my eight-year-old brother take down adults?” Dom asked.

I wondered the same thing.

Grandma and Grayson exchanged a look that made my stomach drop.

“Tristan was known for his tricks,” Grandma said carefully. “He was not someone to underestimate.”

“He had a signature move,” Grayson added. “Eunuchs.”

“How does that fit?” I asked. “The drawing shows fire.”

Grandma didn’t answer right away.

“There’s more happening than we understand,” she finally said. “Our only option is to let events unfold—but be ready.”

“This isn’t good,” Grayson muttered. “We need to warn Grace.”

“He won’t harm Grace,” Grandma said. “The opposing counsel is who worries me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“You’re only supposed to eliminate someone in extreme circumstances,” she said quietly. “Which means something we don’t see is driving this.”

If they were scared, we should be terrified.

The bunker beneath Black Hawk was exactly as Grandma promised—pure luxury. High-end finishes, quiet elegance, comfort designed to make you forget you were hiding from the world.

“Um,” I said nervously, “Shiloh… would you like to stay with me?”

I turned pink instantly. Laughter rippled through the room.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Uncle Brody asked.

Grandma shot him a look that could level cities.

“They may room together,” she said firmly. “Nothing else.”

Sleep came quickly. Shiloh curled into me, my little spoon, and for once—everything felt right.

The next morning, I dressed in the charcoal-gray suit Grandma left for me. It fit perfectly.

Shiloh was still asleep, a little drool at the corner of his mouth. I smiled and kissed his forehead.

“Back before you know it.”

“Be safe,” he murmured.

Safe. The one variable none of us could control.

In an instant, Grandma transported us to a hotel room.

“Welcome to San Diego,” Grayson said, sipping coffee.

Grace stood beside him—calm, elegant, deadly sharp.

We moved through security, into the courthouse, past my mother and stepfather—smug, smiling, untouchable.

I wanted to erase those expressions.

Then—music.

Lyrics drifted through the room, surreal and wrong:

Blown round by the wind
Thrown down in a spin…

Grandma shifted beside me.

And I knew—
whatever Tristan and Little B had planned—

it had already begun.