For Jacob

Brendon leaned back against the car seat, eyes locked on the glowing screen of his phone. The Google Maps app traced a route deep into the woods, a pulsating blue dot marking Ricci's location. Outside, towering trees blurred past the taxi window, the dim light of the setting sun casting long, twisting shadows.

The ride was silent save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the rhythmic hum of the tires rolling over the dirt path. As the vehicle neared its destination, Brendon exhaled slowly, mentally preparing for whatever awaited him at that cabin.

"We're here," the driver announced, pulling over to the side of the narrow road.

Brendon stepped out, stretching his limbs before reaching into his coat pocket for a cigarette. He lit it with a flick of his lighter, taking a slow drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. The air was crisp, tinged with the earthy scent of damp wood and pine needles.

From behind a tree, Ricci emerged.

Brendon squinted. "Why are you hiding, Ricci?"

Ricci smirked, still half-hidden behind the thick trunk. "Well… you know, I'm kinda feeling like a secret agent or something. Just checking how good my hiding skills are."

Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Nope, not a secret agent. But you may fantasize about yourself as an undercover cop… maybe?"

Ricci's eyes widened. "Really?"

Brendon exhaled smoke through his nose. "Umm… we can decide that later. For now, let's concentrate on our task at hand, would we?"

Ricci cleared his throat, straightening up. "Oh yeah, sorry. Can I join you? In catching that punk?"

Brendon flicked away his cigarette and stepped forward. "Yeah. The more, the merrier."

The Cabin in the Woods

The two moved cautiously through the underbrush, the wooden cabin coming into view. Its structure was old, with a sagging roof and cracked windows, almost blending into the dense foliage surrounding it.

Ricci leaned in, whispering, "Hey, Sheriff, do you have any gun?"

Brendon barely turned his head. "Nope."

Ricci froze. "WHAT?! How are we supposed to retaliate if he attacks?"

Brendon gave him a sharp look. "Won't be needed. Plus, lower your voice. Bradley may have heard it."

Ricci groaned under his breath as Brendon bent down, picking up a small stone. He weighed it in his palm before nodding at the door. "Knock."

Ricci's eyes widened. "I am so dead, man!"

Brendon smirked. "Just do it."

Ricci swallowed hard and stepped up to the door, knocking hesitantly.

Silence.

He knocked again, this time with more force.

Still nothing.

Ricci turned back, shrugging. "I swear, I saw him coming—"

Brendon cut him off, lifting a hand. His ears twitched slightly, his anthro-wolf senses picking up something beyond sight. There was another presence here. Someone human. He quickly breaks the door and enters the cabin.

He sniffed the air, filtering out Ricci's scent. Beneath the layers of dust, wood, and damp fabric, there was something else—sweat, fear, and a faint trace of food supplies.

Brendon turned to the bookshelf against the far wall. Without hesitation, he pressed his palm against it and gave it a hard shove. The wooden structure groaned before sliding back, revealing a hidden door.

Ricci's jaw dropped. "No way…"

Brendon didn't waste time. He clenched his fist and rammed it against the concealed door, the wood splintering under his sheer strength. The force sent shards flying as the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit storage space.

Inside, hunched in the corner, sat Bradley Norman.

His clothes were wrinkled, his skin pale under the dim light. A few cans of food and bottles of water surrounded him, but his eyes weren't on them. His gaze was locked on Brendon, wide with fear. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as his body trembled.

Brendon took a step forward.

"Get. Up." His voice was firm, but not unkind. "Enough of running."

Bradley's breathing quickened, his back pressing against the wall. "No… no, no, no…" he muttered. His hands shook as he hugged his knees. "I'm going to die. He's going to kill me. I—"

Brendon crouched slightly, lowering his voice. "No one is going to hurt you."

Bradley's eyes darted between them. "The police won't believe me," he whispered, voice cracking. "I didn't kill Jacob. It was Constable Bronson. But this society… this town… they look down on black men. They won't believe me."

Brendon's expression softened, his fists clenching. He knew that feeling all too well. Being judged for something beyond one's control. For Bradley, it was his skin color. For Brendon, it was his wolf nature. The world had never been kind to people like them.

But that didn't mean they had to take it lying down.

Brendon met Bradley's gaze. "I believe you."

Bradley's breath hitched.

"I know the truth," Brendon continued. "And I want to help you. Jacob's real killer should get the punishment he deserves."

For a moment, Bradley hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Tell me what happened that night," Brendon urged.

Bradley swallowed, his hands tightening into fists. "It started the day before Jacob's death," he murmured. "We met at Central Park. I wanted to sort out our differences."

Brendon nodded. "You and Jacob… you were friends before, right?"

Bradley gave a weak smile. "Yeah. Since primary school. But things got messy… because of Sydney."

Brendon tilted his head. "Did you still have feelings for her?"

Bradley shook his head. "No, man. I was just stupid. But that day, I saw how happy Jacob was with her. And I let it go. We patched things up."

Brendon's brow furrowed. "Then what happened?"

Bradley's fists trembled. "Bronson happened."

Brendon's ears perked up. "He was there?"

Bradley nodded. "Yeah. He showed up, saying he got a 'tip' about drug dealing. He suspected us. Me and Jacob. Even though we weren't doing anything."

Brendon exhaled sharply. "Did you show him your ID?"

"We did." Bradley's voice darkened. "We told him we were students. Innocent. But he didn't care. He looked at us like we were criminals just for existing."

Brendon's jaw tightened. "What did he say?"

Bradley's face twisted in anger. "He called us 'thugs.' Said we 'fit the profile.' He accused Jacob of carrying drugs, said I was a 'bad influence' and that 'people like' us don't belong here."

Ricci muttered a curse under his breath.

Brendon stayed silent for a moment before asking, "Did he touch either of you?"

Bradley looked down. "No. But he scared us. And Jacob… he wasn't one to back down."

Brendon sighed. "So Jacob fought back?"

"Not physically," Bradley corrected. "But with words. He was smart. He knew how to push back without getting violent."

Brendon nodded. "That's when things escalated, didn't they?"

Bradley exhaled shakily. "Yeah. Bronson got mad. He left us alone that night, but the next day… Jacob was dead."

Silence filled the small room.

Brendon's eyes darkened. "…Bronson killed him."

Bradley nodded. "And no one will believe it."

Brendon stood up. "Then we'll make them believe it."

Bradley hesitated. "How?"

Brendon turned to him, his expression serious. "By catching Bronson red-handed."

Bradley stiffened. "You want me to lure him out?"

Brendon nodded. "I suspect he's Jacob's killer. If we can get him to confess or act out, we'll have proof."

Ricci's eyes widened. "Yo, dude, that's dangerous. You're risking this kid's life."

Brendon sighed. "I know—"

Before he could finish, Bradley spoke up. "I'll do it."

Brendon blinked. "You sure?"

Bradley clenched his fists. "If this brings justice to Jacob… then yes. I'm in."

Brendon placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll call Bronson. Tell him you have evidence proving who the real killer is."

Bradley nodded. "Okay. Let's do this… for Jacob."

Brendon's grip tightened slightly.

"For Jacob."