Unexpected Request

The rain poured relentlessly, soaking the streets of London in a cold, unyielding sheet. Four figures darted ahead, weaving through the dark alleyways like specters in the storm. Their boots pounded the wet pavement, the sound almost drowned out by the rolling thunder overhead.

Brendon ran after them, his breath coming in ragged gasps, muscles burning with every stride. The pain in his leg flared, but he pushed through, eyes locked onto the familiar figure at the front of the fleeing group.

"Cash!" Brendon bellowed, his voice raw with desperation. "Just hear me out! If we turn ourselves in, it'll be fine. We can start over—live as respectable people!"

The lead figure—Cash—whirled around mid-stride, his dark eyes burning with something between fury and betrayal.

"No way, Wolf." His voice was cold, venomous. "I. AM. NOT. turning myself in. And you? You're a traitor. How could you even think this?"

Brendon took a shaky step forward, hands raised. "Cash, please—"

BANG!

The pain hit before Brendon could react. A burning sensation tore through his leg, sending him collapsing onto the pavement. His breath hitched, the cold rain mingling with the warmth of his blood.

Another shot. A civilian's scream pierced the night.

Brendon's eyes widened in horror as he saw the innocent bystander crumple to the ground, blood staining their clothes.

Cash smirked, lowering the gun. "Let's see if they believe you now, Wolf."

Darkness swallowed Brendon's vision.

---

Brendon jolted awake, his breath sharp and uneven. The world around him was dim, the only light spilling in from the faint glow of his desk lamp. His office.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 7:00 AM.

A sigh escaped him. Six and a half years. It had been five years in prison and a year and a half in Ridgecliff, yet the nightmares still haunted him.

A firm knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, rubbing the exhaustion from his face.

The door swung open, revealing a familiar figure—Robert. The assistant sheriff, a human-dog hybrid, stepped in with a knowing look.

"Slept here again?"

Brendon exhaled. "Yeah…"

Robert crossed his arms. "You do realize your apartment is five minutes from here, right? If you keep sleeping on that stiff chair, you're gonna end up with spondylitis."

Brendon gave a weak chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

Robert's eyes wandered to the whiteboard on the wall. Some questions had been crossed out, but one still remained.

C) Who set up those teenagers to steal Drago's package?

Robert frowned. "You're still at it?"

Brendon ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sort of."

"You need a break," Robert said, serious now. "Take a little holiday. Your mind won't be at full efficiency if you burn yourself out. Plus, it's affecting your health."

Brendon arched a brow. "So what do you suggest?"

Robert hesitated. "Well, I have no idea… yet."

Brendon sighed. "Knew it."

Another knock interrupted them.

"Come in," Brendon said.

The door opened, and to their surprise, Mr. Hudson stepped inside.

The elderly wolf hybrid was a known figure in Ridgecliff, but he rarely sought help from government officials. He trusted Robert, but Brendon? That's kinda mixed feeling, though Brendon helped him in his problem regarding the illogical presence in room 204 their relationship is still on a thin line. And still he doesn't trust the whole government.

"Hey, my boy Robert. How's it going?" Hudson greeted with a toothy grin.

Robert blinked. "Mr. Hudson? It's kinda unlikely for you to come here."

Hudson shrugged. "Well, kid, I've got a little problem for you."

Robert straightened. "We're all ears, sir."

Hudson's usual jovial demeanor faded. "It's about my niece."

Brendon leaned forward. "What happened?"

Hudson sighed, running a hand through his gray fur. "She's been missing for two weeks."

Brendon and Robert exchanged glances.

Hudson continued, "She came home one day, had a chat with her parents… then the next morning, she was gone." He pulled a folded note from his coat and placed it on the desk. "She left this."

Brendon unfolded the note and read it carefully. The handwriting was neat, deliberate.

Dear Mom, Dad, and Uncle Hudson,

I know this is going to hurt you, and I hate that. I hate that I couldn't say this to your faces, but if I did, I know you would try to stop me. And I can't let that happen.

I need to leave. I need to figure things out on my own. I've spent my whole life being told who I should be, what I should do, and what's best for me. I love you all, but I feel like I'm suffocating. I need space to breathe, to think, to find out who I really am without everyone else's expectations weighing on me.

Please don't come looking for me. I promise I'm not in danger. I just need time. Maybe one day, when I've figured things out, I'll come back. I hope you'll understand, even if it takes a while.

Take care of each other. And Uncle Hudson, don't get too worked up over this. You always said I was stubborn—so you should've seen this coming.

With love,

Amelia.

Brendon frowned. "It sounds… quite cryptic."

"That's the problem," Hudson muttered. "It's too cryptic to be true, she has always been open to us never hold back anything that is affecting her life. If she really wanted to leave, she would've told me first."

Robert studied the note. "She didn't mention where she was going? No hints?"

Hudson shook his head. "Nothing. But I don't buy it. Something's off."

Brendon exhaled, setting the note down. "We'll look into it, Mr. Hudson. We'll start by retracing her last movements."

Hudson nodded, eyes clouded with worry. "Thank you, boys. I just want her safe."

As the old wolf left, Brendon turned back to Robert.

"Guess my break's gonna have to wait."

Robert smirked. "Told you."