Chapter 3
Miles
“Bleurgh. What the…” I mutter, half-asleep. “W-w-w-why so late…”
The sharp ping of my phone jolts me awake, heart pounding as I fumble in the dark.
Bean, my trusty bestie, tumbles off the couch where I’d fallen asleep, still clutching my coloring book. The room’s a cozy blur, lit only by the glow of my laptop screen, left open from earlier.
I squint at the clock on the wall. 4:47 AM.
Who’s messaging me now? And why?
I grab my phone, the notification glaring: Security Alert: Unauthorized Access Detected.
My pulse quickens.
It’s from the backdoor program I planted in the Night Ops Guard’s encrypted server—a risky move, but one I’ve been monitoring for weeks. I haven’t had any luck with it, until now. This could be huge.
I swipe open the alert, and my breath catches.
A data breach.
Not just any breach—a leaked file detailing a high-level Night Ops Guard meeting. Location, time, even a partial list of attendees.
This is huge.
I scramble for my notebook, scribbling the details: Redwood Lodge, 8 PM tomorrow, outskirts of Crestwood City. It’s a three-hour drive from here, a semi-secluded spot perfect for their shady dealings.
My hands shake as I write, adrenaline surging.
This could be the break I’ve been chasing—the chance to catch the Night Ops Guard in the act and blow their operation wide open. They think they’re untouchable, operating outside the law, but this Little might just be about to prove them wrong.
Sleep’s a lost cause now.
I haul myself off the bed, rubbing my eyes, and shuffle to my desk. Bean is staring at me from the floor, his button eyes glinting with silent encouragement.
“Don’t judge me, buddy,” I mutter, scooping him up and plopping him on the desk. “We’ve got work to do.”
I open my laptop, diving back into my research.
The leaked file is a goldmine, but it’s incomplete.
I cross-reference the location with public records, pulling up property deeds and satellite images of Redwood Lodge.
It’s on the edge of a small town, a sprawling are of private offices and businesses, privately owned, surrounded by a forest—perfect for a secret meeting.
I dig deeper, searching for any chatter on dark web forums about the Guard.
Nothing concrete, but whispers of their ruthlessness keep surfacing. They’re not just mercenaries; they’re ghosts, leaving no trace.
Except now, I’ve got a thread to pull.
My eyes burn as I scan through encrypted emails I’ve intercepted over the weeks. Most are coded gibberish, but one phrase sticks out: The Joker’s handling the breach. No idea what that means, but it sends a chill down my spine.
I jot it down, my mind racing.
Are they onto me? No, they can’t be.
My program’s untraceable, buried deep in their system. Still, the thought nags at me just a little.
Bean watches as I sip on the juice left in my juice box from earlier. I giggle, poking his nose.
“You’re my wingman, right?” I ask, knowing full well that Bean would do anything for me if he could.
He doesn’t answer, but his presence steadies me.
I’m a lawyer, an investigator, a grown man—but Bean is my anchor to the softer side of me, the one who still loves bright colors and cuddly things. That side keeps me sane when the world feels too heavy.
Quickly though, my head droops. I’m halfway through a report on the Guard’s rumored ties to a billionaire’s security detail when my eyes flutter shut, and the last thing I see is Bean’s fuzzy face, silently cheering me on as I slump onto the desk.
I might be closing in on my big break in this case, but despite all the excitement, even the busiest boy has to sleep…
Morning light streams through my apartment window, waking me with a crick in my neck. I groan, peeling my cheek off the desk, a sticky note clinging to my face. Bean is still there of course, unfazed.
“Thanks for the backup,” I mumble, stretching.
The clock reads 7:15 AM. I’ve got just enough time to get ready and meet Jack for breakfast before my big day of travelling to the meeting spot and doing what I need to do.
I shower quickly, the hot water washing away the fog of a sleepless night. My reflection in the mirror shows dark circles under my eyes, but there’s a spark in them too—excitement, determination.
Today, I’m taking a step closer to exposing the Night Ops Guard.
I pull on a comfy sweater, jeans, and my favorite sneakers, then pack an overnight bag: laptop, charger, notebook, a change of clothes, and, of course, Bean. I can’t leave him behind—never in a million years could I do that.
I glance at my phone.
No new alerts, but the leaked meeting details burn in my mind.
Redwood Lodge.
I’m not sure what I’ll find—maybe a chance to eavesdrop, snap photos, or catch a glimpse of their operations. Whatever it is, it’s my shot to bring justice to a group that thinks they’re above it.
I head out, the city buzzing with early morning energy.
The café where I’m meeting Jack is just a few blocks away, a cozy spot run by him and his Daddy, Logan. It’s a haven for Littles and Daddies, though they keep it subtle for the regular crowd apart from when they put on a nighttime party and anything goes!
I love it there—the warm vibe, the smell of fresh pastries, the way Jack’s eyes light up when he talks about Logan. It’s dreamy, and kind of a perfect glimpse into what life with a Forever Daddy could be like.
When I push open the café door, the bell jingles, and Jack’s already waving me over from a corner booth. His blonde hair bounces and shimmers, and his pastel pink apron’s dusted with flour. “Miles! Over here!” he calls, his voice bright.
I slide into the booth, grinning.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say. “You’re way too chipper for 8 AM.”
He sticks out his tongue. “Says the boy who probably didn’t sleep,” Jack giggles. “You look like you wrestled a bear.”
“Close. I wrestled a data breach.” I lean in, lowering my voice. “Big break on my case. I’m heading out of town later to check it out.”
Jack’s smile fades, his brows knitting.
“The whole vigilante thing?” Jack asks, his voice full of worry. “Miles, you gotta be careful. Those guys sound… scary.”
I wave him off, though his concern warms me.
“I’m always careful,” I say. “Besides, this is my chance to nail them. They can’t keep hiding forever.”
Jack sighs, pushing a plate of blueberry pancakes toward me. “Eat. You need fuel if you’re gonna play superhero.”
I dig in, the pancakes fluffy and sweet.
Jack’s always been my rock, ever since we met at a Little-friendly art class a couple of years ago. He’s a true Little, complete with a Daddy who dotes on him, and while I love my independence, I can’t help but envy him a little.
“How’s Logan?” I ask between bites.
His face lights up. “Amazing. He’s been teaching me to bake bread. I’m terrible at it, but he’s so patient.” Jack glances toward the counter, where Logan’s pouring coffee for a customer. He’s tall, broad, with a kind smile that screams Daddy. “I’m lucky, you know?”
“You are,” I say, meaning it. “He’s one of the good ones.”
As if on cue, Logan strides over, a paper bag in hand.
“Heard you’re hitting the road, Miles,” Logan says, his voice warm but firm. “Made you a packed lunch. Turkey sandwich, some fruit, and a couple of cookies. Don’t skip meals, okay?”
I blush, taking the bag. “Thanks, Logan. You’re too good to me.”
Logan chuckles, ruffling Jack’s hair. “Gotta keep you Littles fed and safe.” He heads back to the counter, and I catch Jack’s adoring gaze following him.
“You’re soooo lucky,” I say softly. “A Daddy like that? He’s gold.”
Jack nods, but his expression turns serious again. “Just… promise you’ll be careful today, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
I reach across the table, squeezing his hand. “I promise. I’m just scoping things out, not storming the castle. I’ll be fine.”
Jack doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.
I know I need to change the subject. We chat about lighter things—his latest coloring project, my obsession with Bean—until I check my watch.
Time to move.
I hug Jack tight, thanking him for the breakfast, and sling my bag over my shoulder. The packed lunch from Logan feels like a little piece of home, grounding me as I step out into the crisp morning air.
The city hums around me, but my mind’s on Redwood Lodge.
Three hours from now, I’ll be there, ready to uncover the Night Ops Guard’s secrets. I picture their smug faces, thinking they’re untouchable, and a fire ignites in my chest.
They’ve dodged justice for too long, but today, I’m bringing the fight to them.
This is my big day, and nothing’s going to stop me.
I hail a cab to the bus station, my heart pounding with purpose. The Night Ops Guard’s about to meet their match, and his name is Miles Nadal…
The three-hour drive to Redwood Lodge passes in a blur of podcasts and nervous energy. I grip the steering wheel, my mind replaying the leaked file’s details: Redwood Lodge, Crestwood City outskirts. Bean sits buckled into the passenger seat, his button eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. “
We’re close, buddy,” I murmur, patting Bean’s fuzzy head and stroking his delightful little ears. “This is it.”
Crestwood City is smaller than I expected, more a sleepy town than a bustling hub. The GPS leads me to a quiet street lined with unassuming buildings, and I spot Redwood Lodge—a nondescript office block, three stories of beige brick and tinted windows.
It’s the kind of place you’d drive past without a second glance, nothing like the high-tech lairs I imagined for the so-called Night Ops Guard. Perfect for their secrecy, though. My stomach twists with a mix of excitement and nerves.
I park a block away, checking my watch. The meeting’s about to start. I slip out of the car and pop the trunk, pulling out my go-to disguise—a delivery man’s uniform, complete with a navy cap and a fake name tag reading “Sam.”