Page 142 of Undisputed Chaos
I called him directly, pacing Adrian's floor as the phone rang endlessly.
No answer. By the third attempt, panic was crawling up my throat like acid.
I tried calling Crew a fourth time, and finally, he picked up.
"Crew?" I said quickly, relief flooding my system. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
There was a pause, just a few seconds of silence that stretched into an eternity, and then a voice that sent confusion shooting through me.
“Isla?”
The voice on the other end was smooth, measured, and unexpectedly familiar.
"Noah?" I choked, surprise coloring my tone as I gripped the phone tighter. "Why do you have Crew's phone? Where is he?"
My mind raced through possibilities, but I pushed down the worst-case scenarios.
Noah had never been cruel to me or Crew—in fact, he'd always been patient and bought us things.
"Funny story," Noah replied, his tone casual and almost soothing. "I ran into Crew while out… Seems he's gotten himself into a bit of trouble."
I moved to Adrian's kitchen counter, needing something solid beneath my palms.
Noah's voice held that familiar cadence, but something felt different, as if it were more controlled than I remembered.
"What kind of trouble?" I asked, concern sharpening my voice. "Can I talk to him?"
The line went quiet except for Noah's steady breathing, and that silence stretched uncomfortably.
"He's... occupied at the moment," Noah replied. "But I can show you what's going on."
My phone pinged with an incoming video call. I pulled it away from my ear and accepted, my heart rate spiking as the shaky footage loaded.
Crew, dressed in his school hoodie and jeans, stood between two large men I didn't recognize, his face flushed with that stubborn anger I knew so well.
His blue eyes flashed with frustration, his hands clenched at his sides.
He opened his mouth as if to yell something, but the video cut off abruptly.
My chest tightened with worry and panic.
This could just be Crew being Crew—headstrong and probably mouthing off to the wrong people. And Noah was there, which meant my brother wasn't completely alone.
"Noah," I said, bringing the phone back to my ear, "what's really going on? Is he okay?”
"He's fine for now," Noah answered, and there was something almost reassuring in his tone again.
"I'm keeping an eye on things. But you should probably get down here.”
I was already moving, grabbing a newly purchased cardigan from Adrian's couch. "Where exactly are you?"
“Oak Park, near the old floating pier. You remember the spot."
I did remember it. We had many quiet afternoons, picnics, and conversations about the future there. It made me feel a bit uneasy.
"I'm on my way.” I slipped on my shoes with one hand, rushing. "Noah, promise me you won't let anything happen to him."
"Relax, Isla," he drawled, and there was that patronizing tone I'd forgotten about, the one that used to make me feel like I was overreacting. "I've got this handled. Just don't take too long."
