Big Fish Captured

The night was beginning to settle over Ridgecliff, casting a soft, dusky glow over the quiet roads. Inside Ricci's taxi, Brendon leaned against the window, scrolling through his phone with focused determination. His fingers moved swiftly across the screen as he sent a message.

Ricci, glancing at him through the rearview mirror, raised an eyebrow. "Who are you texting, Sheriff? That Tyson guy?"

Brendon didn't look up. "No." He smirked slightly, the corners of his muzzle twitching with amusement. "Ridgecliff law enforcement suffered a big hit recently. I shouldn't bother them now. I think Luca and his friends might come in handy."

Ricci scoffed. "Luca? That kid and his little gang of troublemakers?"

"They're resourceful," Brendon replied, pocketing his phone. "And right now, we need all the help we can get."

Bradley, who had been silent until now, glanced at Brendon with curiosity. "Luca? Who's that?"

Brendon leaned back against the seat. "A group of street kids, friends of Jacob. They know the city better than most. If Bronson tries to run, I want eyes everywhere."

The taxi rolled to a stop in front of a small, run-down motel on the outskirts of town. Brendon stepped out, stretching slightly. He turned to Bradley. "We'll start our operation in the evening. Get some rest until then." He turned to Ricci. "Make sure he's safe."

Ricci sighed dramatically. "Hey, man, my business is gonna take a hit if I take a day off!"

Brendon pulled out a few bills from his pocket and handed them over. "I'll make it up to you."

Ricci looked at the money, then at Brendon, before letting out a huff. "Fine, fine. I got it. But you owe me, Sheriff."

Brendon smirked. "Put it on my tab."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the Ridgecliff police station.

---

Inside the station, the air smelled of sawdust and freshly cut wood. Workers moved around, fixing the damage from the recent attack. Brendon made his way through the half-lit hallways, heading straight for his office.

Robert was already there, sitting at the desk with an impatient look on his face. As soon as Brendon walked in, he stood up.

"Where the hell have you been all day?" Robert demanded.

Brendon calmly removed his coat and draped it over the chair. "I told you. I've set up the trap. Now I just need a little help."

Robert narrowed his eyes. "Sheriff, I want to help, but what the hell is going on? How could Bronson...?"

Brendon held up a hand. "Shhh. Don't say a word. If Bronson hears, my plan could be ruined."

Robert exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Damn it, Brendon. I just— I just want to understand how this could happen. He was one of us."

Brendon placed a firm hand on Robert's shoulder. "Please. Help me first. You'll get your answers."

Robert hesitated, then sighed. "Alright. What do you need?"

Brendon handed him a small note with an address written on it. "I need you to bring Chief Tyson to this location at exactly 6 PM. Alone."

Robert looked at the note, then at Brendon. "You're putting on a show for him, aren't you?"

Brendon gave a half-smile. "Something like that."

Robert sighed again. "Just the Chief?"

Brendon nodded. "Just him."

Robert stuffed the note in his pocket. "Alright. Consider it done."

---

6 PM – Central Park

The evening air was cool and still. In the middle of the park, Bradley stood alone, shifting on his feet anxiously. He had called Bronson, and now he waited. His heart pounded, but he steeled his nerves.

Finally, heavy footsteps approached from the darkness. Bronson emerged, his tall, broad frame cutting an imposing figure in the dim light. His expression was unreadable as he came to a stop a few feet away from Bradley.

"So, punk," Bronson said, his voice low and menacing. "Let's end this."

Bradley clenched his fists. "How is this gonna end, huh? You killed Jacob. I know it."

Bronson sighed dramatically. "Don't be like that, kid. I'm not a murderer. I also want to catch Jacob's killer."

Bradley scoffed. "Liar."

Bronson took a step closer. "Listen to me, Bradley. You don't understand how things work in this town. You need to let this go."

Bradley shook his head. "Jacob trusted me. I won't let it go."

Bronson's expression darkened. "That's a mistake."

Bradley's jaw tightened. "Why'd you do it?"

Bronson stared at him for a long moment before a smirk twisted his lips. "You really wanna know?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Because people like Jacob need to learn their place."

Bradley's eyes widened in horror. "You... you monster."

Bronson's smirk disappeared. "And if you don't shut up about it, you'll end up just like him."

Bradley refused to back down. "I won't be silent."

Bronson sighed, shaking his head. "Then I guess I don't have a choice."

He lunged.

Bradley barely had time to react before Bronson grabbed his collar, shoving him backward. He gasped as he stumbled, but before Bronson could strike—

SPLASH!

Bronson let out a strangled yell as cold water doused him from behind. He spun around, furious, only to see a young man standing there holding an empty bucket.

James.

Jacob's friend.

A known member of the BM19 movement.

James smirked. "Hope that cooled you down, officer."

Bronson's face twisted in rage, but before he could react—

BAM!

Brendon tackled him from the side, sending them both crashing to the ground. Bronson thrashed, but Brendon pinned him with ease, his sharp claws pressing against the man's arms.

"This is over, Constable Bronson," Brendon growled.

Bronson struggled, but it was useless. He was caught.

Footsteps approached. Chief Tyson and Robert stepped into view, both watching the scene unfold with grim expressions.

Tyson sighed, rubbing his temples. "Jesus Christ..."

Brendon looked up at him. "Well, Chief? What do you think?"

Tyson let out a long breath. "I think you just solved a murder case, Sheriff."

Bronson's face drained of color. "Wait, Chief—"

Tyson raised a hand, cutting him off. "Shut up, Bronson. You're done."

Brendon pulled Bronson to his feet, twisting his arms behind his back. "Let's take him in."

As they began leading Bronson away, Bradley turned to Brendon. His voice was shaky but resolute. "Did... did we do it?"

Brendon met his eyes and nodded. "Yeah. For Jacob."

Bradley swallowed hard, then lifted his chin. "For Jacob."