Party Night

The low hum of the ceiling fan above did little to dispel the tension in the Sheriff's office. Brendon sat in his chair, fingers drumming idly against the desk, the remnants of his nightmare still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. The image of Cash turning on him, the gunshot, the innocent civilian collapsing—it was a memory he would never escape. And now Mr. Hudson's request.

A sharp ringing noise jolted him from his thoughts. His landline. Brendon exhaled sharply, rubbing his face before picking up.

"Sheriff Wolf speaking. What's your emergency?"

A panicked voice came through the other end, breathless and frantic. "Is it really Sheriff Brendon Wolf speaking? Oh thank God. I am in big trouble." The woman's breath was uneven, and in the background, the muffled sounds of shuffling and possibly distant voices could be heard.

Brendon straightened. "Ma'am, calm down. Take a deep breath. Now tell me your name, your situation, and your location so we can find you."

The woman on the line took a shaky breath before speaking. "My name is Natasha Staicu. I'm from Ridgecliff, but I came to Lagooncrest Isle for a vacation. I arrived ten days ago."

Brendon reached for his notebook, quickly jotting down the details.

"Okay, Natasha. Tell me what's happening."

"I... I was kidnapped. I don't know where I am exactly, but they took me from my hotel earlier today. I managed to grab my phone when they weren't looking, but I—"

The line cut out.

"Hello? Natasha? Are you there?"

Silence.

Brendon slowly put the phone down, staring at Robert, who had been watching him intently.

"It seems like another problem just arrived," Robert muttered.

Brendon let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

---

Brendon's Apartment

The dim light from the single lamp cast long shadows as Brendon packed his bag. A few necessities, snacks, a fresh pack of cigarettes, and an old, rusty compass he always carried but never used. He zipped up the bag just as his phone rang.

"Robert," he greeted.

"Hey, Brendon. You sure about going alone to that island? I can tag along if you want."

Brendon chuckled softly. "Nah, I got this. You need to stay in Ridgecliff. We're the front line of law enforcement, remember? If both of us leave, who's going to handle things here? Besides, you should focus on Amelia's case. Mr. Hudson came to us personally. We can't let him down."

Robert sighed. "Yeah… true. By the way, I'm coming over."

Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Coming over? For what?"

"Scott Wright's birthday party. We're celebrating it. You in?"

Brendon hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, I'll come."

"Seriously? Great. Be there in thirty minutes."

---

The Car Ride

Brendon stepped out of his apartment, locking the door behind him just as Robert's car pulled up. The old engine hummed as the headlights swept over the curb. The moment the car stopped, the passenger window rolled down, and Robert leaned over.

"Get in, Sheriff. We're on a tight schedule."

Brendon opened the back door and slid into the seat. The car was already full—Scott Wright, the grumpy yet sharp-minded Komodo dragon, sat in the front passenger seat, arms crossed, wearing a look of mild disinterest. In the back with Brendon were Judith Kay, the rookie cop who had finally grown into her role, and Sofie Lee, the lively and ever-energetic tech expert.

Chief Tyson, the department's lead investigator and an ever-present thorn in Brendon's side, occupied the driver's seat, but Robert had insisted on driving.

As soon as the car took off, Sofie twisted in her seat to face everyone in the back. "Alright, folks, let's settle this—how old do you think Scott really is?"

Scott groaned. "Lee, I swear to—"

"Sixty-two," Judith cut in before he could finish.

Brendon smirked. "I was gonna say sixty-five."

Scott turned in his seat, glaring at them. "I am fifty-seven, you ungrateful little gremlins."

Sofie gasped dramatically. "So you admit you're old?"

"No, I admit that I hate this car ride already."

Judith chuckled. She had started as the quiet, nervous rookie, but after a year and a half, she had grown into her confidence. Still, she kept her comments measured, unlike Sofie, who thrived on chaos.

Robert, keeping his focus on the road, chuckled. "Come on, Scott, just admit it—you're getting up there."

Scott scoffed. "I am in my prime."

"A prime what? Fossil or a dinosaur?" Sofie quipped.

The whole car burst into laughter—except for Chief Tyson, who groaned. "Enough with this garbage talk. We're already stuck in a car together, let's not make it worse."

Sofie smirked. "Oh, lighten up, Chief. It's Scott's birthday. We have to celebrate the fact that he's still alive despite his ancient age."

Scott muttered something under his breath, but Brendon could see the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

Tyson grumbled. "I don't know why I agreed to come to this thing."

Brendon leaned back. "Maybe because you have no social life?"

Tyson's eyes flicked to him in the rearview mirror. "Big words from a guy who sleeps in his office like a damn stray."

Sofie snorted. "Ohhh, burn."

Brendon smirked, unfazed. "At least I don't have to schedule 'mandatory fun' into my day like you, Chief."

Tyson scowled. "If this wasn't a confined space, I'd throw you out of this damn car."

Sofie and Judith exchanged glances before Sofie whispered, "I think this is their way of bonding."

Judith nodded. "Like a grumpy old married couple."

Scott sighed. "God, just kill me now."

Robert chuckled, but Brendon noticed the brief glance he shot him through the rearview mirror. It was subtle, but Brendon knew what it meant.

You sure about this?

Brendon didn't respond, just looked out the window as the laughter and teasing continued.

They didn't know. None of them knew he was leaving tomorrow.

And for now, he would keep it that way.

---

At the Party

The restaurant was buzzing with energy, the warm glow of chandeliers reflecting off polished wooden floors. The scent of grilled meat and rich sauces wafted through the air, mixing with the low hum of conversations and occasional bursts of laughter. A live band played a mellow jazz tune in the background, setting a relaxed yet celebratory mood.

The long banquet table at the center of the private dining hall was already filled with plates of food—steaks, seafood platters, fresh salads, and steaming bread rolls. A large, triple-layered cake with white frosting and blue icing stood proudly at the end of the table, waiting for the birthday toast.

Scott Wright, the guest of honor, sat at the head of the table, his sharp reptilian eyes scanning the room with amusement as Sofie Lee playfully smacked Robert on the shoulder.

"Come on, Rob, admit it!" Sofie grinned, taking a sip of her drink. "You still can't beat me in chess. What was the last score again? Oh, right—eight to zero."

Robert let out a dramatic sigh. "I told you, I let you win."

"Liar." Sofie leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head. "You were sweating bullets when I took your queen in three moves."

Judith Kay chuckled beside them, shaking her head. "I don't think chess is supposed to be that intense."

"Everything is intense when Sofie plays," Scott muttered, crossing his arms. "She's got the patience of a caffeinated squirrel."

Brendon stood near the bar, keeping himself out of the main festivities. He nursed a glass of water, idly rolling the rim of the glass between his fingers while observing the interactions from a distance. It wasn't that he disliked parties—he just never quite fit into them.

His ears twitched slightly when Chief Tyson's gruff voice cut through the noise.

"Didn't expected you to come here, Wolf," Tyson said as he walked up, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Thought you were too busy brooding in your office."

Brendon sighed, taking a slow sip of his water before responding. "And I didn't expect you to still be alive at this age, Tyson. Thought all that bitterness would've killed you by now."

Tyson let out a short, gruff laugh. "Funny guy. Real funny." He leaned against the bar beside Brendon, signaling the bartender for a drink. "But let's be honest. Nobody here expects you to stick around for the whole party. You'll probably sneak out before the cake's even cut."

Brendon smirked. "Tempting idea, but I wouldn't want to deprive you of my charming company."

Before Tyson could respond, Scott raised his glass from the center of the room, gathering everyone's attention.

"Alright, alright! Let's get this formal stuff out of the way before Sofie starts an arm-wrestling competition." He grinned as Sofie pointed finger guns at him. "First off, thanks to everyone for coming—though some of you look like you were dragged here against your will."

His eyes flicked to Brendon and Tyson, earning a few chuckles from the group.

"But seriously, I appreciate you all. Being in this line of work isn't easy, but having a team like this makes it a hell of a lot more bearable. So, before we get to the drinking contests and regrettable karaoke choices—"

"Oh no," Judith muttered under her breath.

"—let's toast!" Scott raised his glass. "To another year of surviving this crazy town and to hoping the crime rate doesn't spike tomorrow just to spite me."

Everyone lifted their glasses and echoed, "To Scott!" before taking their drinks.

As the festivities resumed, Brendon slipped away to the balcony for some air. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, watching the town lights twinkle against the night sky. The faint scent of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp evening breeze.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor caught his attention before a smooth, teasing voice followed.

"Smoking alone? That's kinda depressing, Sheriff."

Brendon turned, exhaling a stream of smoke, and nearly did a double take.

Devina Foxington stood before him, looking effortlessly captivating. The assistant mayor was dressed in a deep pink cocktail dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. The fabric shimmered subtly under the soft balcony lights, accentuating her curves with each movement. The dress had an asymmetrical cut, revealing just enough of her toned leg to turn heads without being overly revealing. A thin silver chain adorned her waist, emphasizing her hourglass shape.

Her fur, a rich blend of crimson and white, was impeccably groomed, and her green eyes held an almost playful gleam as she studied him. A delicate pair of silver earrings dangled from her pointed ears, catching the light whenever she tilted her head. In her hand, she swirled a glass of red wine, the color matching the sultry shade of her dress.

Brendon exhaled slowly, flicking the cigarette between his fingers. "Didn't take you for the type to care about my habits," he said, keeping his tone neutral.

"I don't. But I do care about our Sheriff not dropping dead from stress before his job is done." She took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. "Besides, I never got the chance to congratulate you properly."

Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Congratulate me?"

"For solving the Redfur case," Devina said. "I know I'm late, but I got caught up in other town matters. You did good, Sheriff. Really good."

Brendon shrugged, pretending the praise didn't affect him. "People still don't trust me, though. Doesn't matter how many cases I solve."

Devina leaned against the railing, her green eyes scanning him thoughtfully. "You can't change people's minds overnight, Brendon. But keep doing what you do best, and one day, they'll have no choice but to respect you."

Brendon flicked the ash from his cigarette, glancing at her. "That your way of telling me not to quit?"

She smirked, the corner of her lips curling in a way that made her look even more alluring. "Maybe."

A brief silence fell between them, comfortable but charged with unspoken words.

Then Brendon cleared his throat. "Actually, since you're here, I need a favor."

Devina tilted her head. "Oh?"

"Can you tell the Mayor I'll be taking a short leave?" Brendon said. "Robert suggested it. Says I need a break before my nightmares eat me alive."

Devina's expression shifted slightly. "You're having nightmares?"

Brendon hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah… past trauma."

For a fraction of a second, he saw something flicker in her eyes—sympathy, understanding. But just as quickly, she regained her usual composed demeanor.

"I'll talk to the Mayor," she said simply.

"Thanks. Means a lot," Brendon said.

She nodded, finishing her drink. "Enjoy the rest of the night, Sheriff. Maybe try smiling once in a while—it won't kill you."

She turned to head back inside, the slit of her dress shifting just enough to show a bit more of her leg before disappearing behind the doors.

Brendon sighed, flicking the cigarette away and watching the ember fade against the pavement below.

A short leave, huh?

He just hoped it wouldn't turn into another nightmare.