The fluorescent lights of the Lagooncrest Police Station buzzed faintly above, casting a sterile glow over the metallic walls and dull grey floors. Brendon sat in the stiff metal chair, arms crossed, legs spread slightly apart. His usual casual confidence seemed slightly dulled, not out of fear, but out of restraint.
Across from him sat Marshall Vinn, the towering figure of authority in Lagooncrest. His large frame was unmistakably bear-like—thick fur lining his arms, broad shoulders, heavy snout—but his eyes… they were sharp, wide, golden-amber, unnaturally perceptive. Owl eyes.
A hybrid, they called him. But to Brendon, all he saw was another stone wall in his path.
"Mr. Wolf," Vinn said, folding his thick hands together as he leaned forward, "Why are you involving yourself in such matters?"
Brendon didn't flinch. "Just helping a friend, sir. Helping her find her missing brother."
Vinn leaned back, letting out a slow exhale through his nose. He tapped his large clawed fingers against the table once. Twice.
"The mayor told me you were coming here for a vacation," he said, voice deep but steady. "You were supposed to relax. Maybe surf. Enjoy the local cuisine. Not…" he waved a paw vaguely, "stick your nose into every dusty record we have. We're capable of handling things, Mr. Wolf. So, I'll say this once—stay away."
Brendon scoffed lightly, the corners of his lips twitching into a sardonic smirk.
"If your department had actually done its work," he said, voice calm but laced with contempt, "I wouldn't have had to step in at all."
Vinn's expression tightened. "What did you say?"
Brendon leaned forward, meeting his gaze without blinking. "I said—have you even found one of the missing people reported here over the last five years? I've seen the records. Eighteen-year-olds, mostly. Gone. Vanished. No follow-up, no search operations worth a damn. Just dismissed like they moved to the city for a better life."
The air in the room thickened.
Vinn's claws twitched on the tabletop. "They probably did leave, Mr. Wolf. Lagooncrest is an island with dying industry. Fishing's down. Tourism's seasonal. Kids want more. That's not a crime—it's reality."
Brendon's hand slammed the table.
The sound echoed like a gunshot.
"Do you think this is some kind of joke? Parents are crying themselves to sleep. Families are hollowed out. And you—you just assume they ran away?! No investigation. No reports forwarded to Ridgecliff. Just ignorance. That's not just lazy, that's criminal."
The silence that followed was brutal.
Vinn's heavy paws gripped the sides of the table. His amber eyes glared into Brendon's like twin suns about to erupt. His voice dropped to a threatening low growl.
"Get him out," he ordered, without breaking eye contact.
Two constables entered almost immediately, their footfalls heavy with tension. "Sir—"
"I said, get him out."
Brendon stood up on his own. "Don't bother. I know the way."
But the constables still grabbed his arms and shoved him through the station's hallway. His boots scraped against the floor as they reached the exit.
The door slammed behind him.
Now alone outside, Brendon rubbed his temples, then pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke and leaned against the cold concrete wall of the station, the night breeze brushing past him like a warning.
"Idiots," he muttered.
His vacation had turned into an investigation. But no one in this cursed town wanted him digging.
He took a long drag before flicking the cigarette away and began walking.
---
The Walk Back
The streets of Lagooncrest were quiet now. Only the distant waves crashing against the southern cliffs gave any indication of movement. The gas lamps lining the cobblestone paths flickered weakly, like they too were tired of this place's secrets.
Brendon passed closed-down stores, old shuttered inns, and alleyways that smelled of salt and fish. The town looked peaceful—looked—but beneath it was a rot no one wanted to acknowledge.
He walked on, boots echoing faintly, until he reached the small two-story house perched near the edge of the residential block. The lights inside were warm and glowing, a rare comfort.
He knocked once.
Zoe's mother opened the door, her kind, tired eyes softening when she saw him.
"Brendon," she said. "Where did you went that time?"
"I had a meeting," he replied. "With someone who didn't want to meet."
She stepped aside. "Come in. Dinner's ready."
He gave her a nod and stepped inside. The smell of home-cooked food hit him immediately—herbed chicken, sweet corn soup, and flatbread. Zoe was already at the small round table, arms folded, still in the oversized hoodie she'd been wearing since her brother vanished.
"Hey," she greeted, her voice tired.
"Hey," he replied.
They sat.
Zoe's mom served each of them and sat down herself. The warmth of the meal was welcomed, especially after the verbal battlefield Brendon had just crossed. For a while, there was nothing but the soft clinks of cutlery against ceramic plates.
Then the television caught their attention.
The local news anchor appeared, his voice laced with urgency.
> "In breaking news tonight—Lord Alaric Trenshaw, a government envoy from the British Parliament, was kidnapped earlier today in Ridgecliff. Officials confirm that he was later recovered unharmed, but authorities have expressed concern over the political implications of the event."
Zoe's spoon froze mid-air.
Brendon stared at the screen, unmoving.
The anchor continued.
> "The identity of the kidnapper remains unknown, though reports suggest the perpetrator is a woman. Chief Tyson has declared a full investigation underway, and international watchers are now keeping a close eye on the region as tensions between the British and French governments have risen slightly in the wake of this attack."
Brendon leaned back in his chair, arms folded.
Zoe's mother shook her head. "This is… bad. Real bad."
Zoe nodded slowly. "This'll bring heat. Unwanted heat."
Brendon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
Three days left on his vacation.
Three days to get to the bottom of this before he's dragged back to Ridgecliff. Before the world's eyes turn to Lagooncrest. Before Vinn covers up more evidence. Before more kids disappear.
Brendon stood up, his plate half-full.
"I need to go," he said.
Zoe raised a brow. "Now?"
"Yeah," he muttered, staring down at the phone. "I've got seventy-two hours to blow this open."