Unexpected Meet

The evening air in Ridgecliff was thick with the scent of coming rain—still dry, but whispering promises of a storm. Streetlights flickered one by one as the sun dipped behind the western hills, casting a golden-orange haze over the rooftops. The town had quieted, save for the distant hum of a train and the occasional bark of a restless dog.

Robert stepped out of the cab and adjusted the strap of his satchel. He paid the driver with a distracted nod, eyes already scanning the familiar exterior of his modest home. The porch light was on, casting a faint pool of light over the welcome mat and flowerpots. The wooden door, painted a fading teal, stood exactly as he'd left it.

Still, something itched at the back of his mind.

He shook it off.

Click.

The door unlocked with a smooth turn, and he pushed it open.

"I'm home," he called out, stepping inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around him like a blanket. Familiar. Safe.

Or at least, it should have been.

"Mom?" he called again, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the old rack beside the door.

Silence.

Just the low creak of the floor as he stepped forward.

He turned into the kitchen, expecting her to be stirring something on the stove or humming softly as she did the dishes. Even though his mom just came back from hospital still she is now doing kitchen just to get herself occupied.

But the room was empty.

Then he noticed the note.

A small square of yellow paper was stuck to the fridge, the handwriting unmistakably hers.

"Went for a walk. Be back before dinner. Don't worry! – Love, Mom."

Robert exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding and chuckled softly. "Classic."

Still, that odd feeling didn't leave him. It clung to him like the static before lightning—his instincts prickling. Especially his ears.

They twitched.

Twitched again.

As a hybrid, he'd grown used to the occasional subconscious reflex. But this wasn't random. His dog ears only did that when something was off.

He stepped back into the hallway, glancing up the staircase.

The house was quiet—too quiet.

Slowly, deliberately, Robert climbed the stairs, each creak of the wood beneath his feet sounding louder than it should have. As he reached the top, his gaze landed on his bedroom door.

It was ajar.

Only slightly—but enough.

He stopped.

That door had been shut when he left this morning. He was sure of it.

His pulse quickened. His hand inched toward the side table at the top of the stairs, where his father's old flashlight usually sat.

But it wasn't there.

He took a breath.

Keep it together. You're trained for this.

Cautiously, he stepped toward the door and pushed it open.

The room greeted him with dim evening light filtering through the blinds. His desk sat undisturbed. Bed made. Everything seemingly in place.

Except for the figure standing by the window.

Black jumpsuit. Tight fit. The mask concealed everything except for a pair of sharp, glowing green eyes.

A fox tail flicked slightly behind her.

Robert froze, every muscle going rigid. His mind instantly flashed to the description—the same woman who'd vanished during the envoy incident.

The kidnapper.

"Don't move," Robert said, voice low, eyes darting for anything he could use.

His hand landed on the bedside lamp.

The woman didn't flinch.

"Do not fear," she said calmly, her voice smooth and steady, carrying a strange grace. "I am not here to hurt you. I just came to tell you something."

Robert didn't relax. "Break into my house and call that talking?"

"I didn't hurt anyone. Didn't touch a thing." She glanced at his grip on the lamp. "You won't need that. I mean no harm."

Robert didn't drop it. "You're a criminal."

"Oh," she chuckled softly, "is that the expression I'm going to get after saving your life from those thugs in that black market area?"

"That was before you kidnapped an envoy."

She tilted her head. "And that's something I've come to explain."

Robert's grip on the lamp didn't ease, but his brows furrowed slightly.

"I'm not your enemy," the woman said. "Not yours. Not Brendon's. I want the same thing you two want—Ridgecliff safe, protected from corruption."

"Kind of hard to believe that when you move like a shadow and hide your face."

"I hide it because I have to. Because if the people I'm after find me, they'll do worse than kill me. And if they know I came here…" she let the sentence hang in the air like fog.

Robert's tail twitched behind him, a subconscious tell of his unease. "Then why come at all?"

"Because the higher-ups—the ones you trust, the ones running this town—they're not what they seem."

He blinked.

She stepped closer. "Your mayor. Guerio. He isn't the white knight everyone believes he is. He's tied to someone. A client. Dangerous. I don't know their name. Not yet. But whoever it is, they have their hands deep in this town."

Robert's expression darkened, but his stance remained guarded. "You expect me to believe this without proof?"

"I expect you to consider it," she replied. "Watch him. Watch who he talks to when no one's looking. Didn't you ever questioned yourself what twas that business with that red envelope?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Please, consider what I said..." she added, her voice softening. "... And please keep this visit a secret. No one must know I was here. Not your mother, not Brendon, not anyone. I'm risking everything telling you this."

Robert's tail stopped moving. His ears twitched again, but this time not from fear.

From thought.

"Why us?" he finally asked. "Why me and Brendon?"

"Because the two of you… you're real. You care about this place more than politics. You've bled for it. You've protected it without asking for anything."

Robert remained silent for a moment, then said, "You realize keeping secrets from Brendon is near impossible?"

"Then lie if you must. Just long enough for me to disappear."

Robert lowered the lamp slowly. "You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

She smiled faintly behind her mask. "Truth usually is."

Then she moved.

One fluid motion, toward the window. She unlocked it and slipped onto the ledge, her form blending into the growing dusk.

But before she leapt, she paused.

"One more thing," she said, turning her head slightly. "There's someone new in the council. Someone who wasn't supposed to be elected. Find out who backed their campaign money."

Robert opened his mouth to ask more—but she was gone.

Vanished.

Only the rustling of tree branches and the fading echo of movement outside remained.

He stared at the window for a long time.

What the hell had just happened?

His hands shook slightly—not from fear, but from the sudden dumping of information dropped onto his shoulders. His instincts weren't screaming anymore, but something inside was shifting. Reassessing.

He turned back into the room and sat on the bed, mind racing.

Brendon had been right about mayor Guerio. About the mystery surrounding the mayor. But now it isn't just whispers. It is beginning to connect.

And the picture it painted isn't pretty.

---

An hour later, Robert stood in front of the mirror in the hallway, adjusting his shirt. He'd changed into something comfortable, but the tension in his shoulders hadn't faded.

The front door creaked open.

"Robert? I'm back!" came his mother's cheerful voice.

He turned to greet her, forcing a casual smile.

"Hey, Mom."

She stepped into the hallway, removing her scarf. "Anything interesting while I was gone?"

He hesitated—just a fraction.

"No. Just the usual."

She smiled warmly. "Dinner's in an hour."

He nodded.

And as she passed him to head into the kitchen, he realized something chilling.

He had just lied.

And the worst part?

It had come easier than he expected.

---

Night fell completely, and Ridgecliff bathed in the silver glow of moonlight.

But in Robert's room, the shadows seemed darker. The silence heavier.

Because truth is no longer simple.

And trust has just grown more fragile.