Support me and Join Patreón to read chapters ahead.
Patreón: patreon.com/Darkwolfest
Join my Discord to see the character images.
Discord invite:
https://discord.com/invite/WpaszattdH
Enjoy.
-------
The diner's door swung open, the chime above the frame barely audible over the low hum of conversation. A pair of worn leather boots clicked against the wooden floor, their owner moving with the weight of someone who had seen too much and slept too little.
Gale Weathers let out a breath as she pulled off her helmet, shaking her hair free before setting the scratched visor on the nearest empty table. The rest of the seats were already occupied, familiar faces waiting for her.
"Guess somebody still hasn't learned the concept of being on time," Dewey quipped, his beer halfway to his lips.
Gale rolled her eyes. "And I see you're still morphing into Po, the drunken fat-ass panda." She slumped into the chair beside him, snatching the bottle from his grip and taking a long, tired gulp before setting it down. Her gaze swept across the table.
They were all here. Again.
She never thought they'd find themselves back in this mess. She had convinced herself they were done for good—that Beacon Hills was done for good. But some things never stay buried.
Sidney gave her a soft smile and reached over, pulling her into a brief but firm side hug.
"It's good to see you, Gale," she said, her voice tinged with something between relief and regret. "I just wish it was under better circumstances."
"We all do," Tamy muttered, her voice muffled under the weight of exhaustion.
Gale wouldn't admit it, but there was a certain thrill that came with hearing about another string of murders in Beacon Hills. Arizona had its fair share of crime, sure, but nothing quite like what this town had given her. Beacon Hills had made her—had cemented her name in the media, for better or worse.
But this? This wasn't just another headline.
"Morticia won't be joining us," Dewey noted, yanking his beer back from her grasp with a pointed look. "And this isn't like the copycats we've dealt with before."
Gale's brows arched. "What, you think the Fox is back?"
Silence. No one wanted to answer. No one even wanted to entertain the thought.
Even the mention of it was enough to drag them back—to the bloodstained memories, to the screams that still echoed in their nightmares. Shelley. The others.
The copycats had tried. They had failed. No one had ever matched what he did.
Billy Loomis and the damn Fox.
"If this really is the Fox, then we're going to need Morticia and Gomez," Tamy said, her voice firm despite the weight of the conversation.
"I already called her," Dewey replied, running a hand through his graying hair. "She said whatever she's doing in Italy is far more important." His tone carried an edge of frustration, but there was also resignation. "We're on our own for now."
Gale let out a weary sigh.
Three kids were dead. Another was still missing.
And the Fox—if it truly was him—was playing a game only they understood. The message had been clear: this was personal and he was back.
"Did you talk to Deaton about the Nemeton?" Sidney asked, her voice quieter than usual.
"Yeah." Dewey exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It's gone. The seal was broken, and someone took the deal. Deaton couldn't tell me much, but he did give me a warning."
Sidney stiffened. "About what?"
Dewey hesitated for a moment before answering. "An Alpha."
Silence fell over the group, heavy and unspoken. Everyone's eyes widened slightly—except for Tamy.
Gale didn't miss that.
"Seriously?" Sidney groaned, rubbing her temples.
"Relax," Gale said, waving a hand dismissively. "We've got the Vixen over here to handle the Alpha." She jabbed a finger in Tamy's direction, smirking. "It's the Fox we should be worried about."
Tamy merely snorted at the nickname, but the tension remained.
Dewey shifted uncomfortably, then glanced toward Tamy. "By the way, I heard about what happened at the school. Your daughter was attacked. Do you think it has anything to do with us?" His voice was careful, but there was no mistaking the concern beneath it.
Tamy inhaled sharply before answering. "Amber was—is—scared. But she's okay now. She's resting." Her expression hardened. "I don't think this was about us specifically. She was just another victim."
"But you do understand what this means, right?" She looked around the table, her gaze locking onto each of them. "The Fox is expecting us. He knows we'll come for him. And this time…" She let the words hang for a second before finishing.
"This time, he'll be ready."
A heavy silence settled over the table, the weight of Tamy's words pressing down like an iron weight. The Fox was expecting them. And if history had taught them anything, stepping into his game without a plan was as good as walking to their deaths.
Sidney exhaled sharply, rubbing her hands together for warmth—or maybe for focus. "We can't do this like last time. If we rush in, we're dead. We need to know what we're dealing with before making a move."
Dewey leaned forward, his voice low and edged with urgency. "Three bodies already, one missing. We don't have time to sit around waiting for him to make another move."
Tamy drummed her fingers against the table, her mind already working through a strategy.
"We don't wait," she said firmly. "We force his hand."
Gale arched a skeptical brow.
"Force the hand of a psychotic serial killer who's been ahead of us this entire time?" She let out a sharp laugh. "Brilliant plan. What could possibly go wrong?"
Tamy ignored her sarcasm, her expression unwavering. "He's playing a game, right? He wants us involved. So we let him think we're still scrambling to figure things out—meanwhile, we set our own trap."
Dewey sighed, shaking his head. "And how exactly do you trap someone like the Fox? He's always two steps ahead."
Tamy's gaze sharpened. "We don't trap him," she clarified. "We trap his pawn."
Sidney's eyes flickered with understanding. "The accomplice."
Tamy nodded. "Billy had Stu. The copycats were never alone. The Fox isn't stupid—if he had a sidekick once before, he's probably recruited another one."
Gale leaned back, considering. "Alright, so how do we find this mystery sidekick?"
Sidney's gaze darkened. "It's got to be one of those kids."
Dewey hesitated. "Could be—but we don't know that for sure."
Gale scoffed. "And we can't rule it out either. God knows those little shitheads could snap if given the right push."
Tamy tapped her fingers against the table, her mind already running through the profiles of the victims and potential suspects.
"The Fox isn't just killing for fun—he's leaving messages, taunting us, making sure we know this is personal. If he has a partner, that person has to be close to the victims. Maybe even close to us."
Sidney's stomach twisted at the thought. The idea that someone in their orbit—someone they might have trusted—could be playing along with the Fox was a bitter pill to swallow.
Dewey ran a hand through his hair. "Then we need to start digging. Background checks, alibis, anything that connects these murders to someone still walking around."
Gale smirked. "Lucky for you, I excel at making people squirm."
Tamy pushed away from the table, reaching for her jacket. "Then let's get to work. The longer we wait, the higher the body pile."
Sidney, Dewey, and Gale exchanged looks before sharing a nod of agreement.
If the Fox wanted them back in his game, then he got them now.
------
[A/N: Am I back...?]
¯\_(ツ)_/¯