The serenity of the office remained intact, as if the thick walls were enough to isolate the mayor from the rest of the world. Inside, everything continued its course: the soft creak of old wood, the dull sound of ice melting in a whisky glass, and Rachel’s firm voice reading the day’s agenda.


    “Tuesday, meeting with the regional commissioner, sir. He wants the detailed report on the progress of the urbanization,” she recited without looking up.


    The mayor took a slow sip. The whisky burned his throat, but not enough to draw a grimace.


    “And the federal permits?” he asked, unhurriedly.


    “Pending approval,” Rachel replied, leisurely flipping through a folder of papers. “The Smiths requested a meeting. They want to discuss selling their lands to the south.”


    The mayor sighed, sinking further into his worn leather chair. The Smiths… one of the founding families of the town. Old, stubborn ones, the kind who still called the neighborhood where the asphalt now ran “ciénaga.”


    “What do they want? More money?”


    “They didn’t say… but it goes without saying,” Rachel responded, with that neutral tone of someone who could read between the lines. “They say circumstances are forcing them to make decisions.”


    The mayor nodded slowly, unsurprised. Deep down, he’d seen it coming. Urbanization had brought more than paved roads and light poles. It had opened the door to the inevitable: the end of a town that had once believed itself eternal.


    “You know what I sometimes think, Rachel?” he murmured, not expecting an answer. “That the worst part of this job isn’t dealing with outsiders… it’s watching our own people give up. How they surrender… and sell what they built.”


    Rachel remained silent. She knew he wasn’t looking for words of consolation. He only needed to speak.


    “This project wasn’t even mine,” the mayor continued. “It came from above, with seals and promises. And here we are… watching as the very foundations of it all begin to crack.”


    The ice clinked in the glass, a small, distant sound.


    “Should I reschedule the meeting with the Smiths?” asked Rachel, calmly.


    “No,” he replied firmly. “Let them come. I want to hear them. And if they decide to leave… let them go in peace. I’m not going to hold anyone here by force.”


    Rachel nodded. The pen brushed against the paper with that decisive stroke that characterized her.


    The mayor stayed for a moment looking out the window. Outside, the city went on its way. Cars slowly crossed the main avenue, stores opened sluggishly, and the air smelled of damp wood and turned earth.


    For a moment, he allowed himself to remember when everything was different. When he was a child and the town was nothing more than a handful of wooden houses, dirt roads, and a river running clean under the sun.


    “Do you regret it?” Rachel suddenly asked, without looking up.


    The mayor smiled, without joy.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    “No. I just… feel the weight of it.”


    Rachel nodded, understanding more than he had said.


    “Urbanization always comes like this,” she added, almost to herself. “First as a promise… then as an impossible debt to pay.”


    The mayor looked at her with a certain respect. Not for what she said, but because she said it without bitterness.


    “Prepare me another whisky, Rachel… and leave the door ajar. The day isn’t over yet.”


    Rachel rose without haste. The pen was left on the table, beside the agenda. As she passed by the window, she paused for just a moment, looking out at the street. It was then that she saw it.


    A gray shadow streaked across the courtyard with feline speed and, without warning, Wilson darted through the open window, clumsily landing on the carpet. Rachel recoiled, letting out a soft, stifled cry.


    “What the…?” she managed, clutching her chest.


    The mayor sprang to his feet, frowning.


    “Wilson! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Breaking in through the window like a damn animal?”


    The cat panted heavily, its chest rising and falling violently. It lifted its head, locking its eyes on the mayor.


    “There wasn’t time,” it panted. “I couldn’t circle around… I needed to get in, now.”


    The mayor gritted his teeth, furious, yet something in Wilson’s gaze held him back. He hadn’t come out of whim.


    “What’s going on?” the mayor insisted, his voice dry. “What the hell is happening out there?”


    Wilson swallowed hard, his paws trembling from the effort.


    “They’re coming…” he finally managed. “They’re coming for you.”


    Rachel looked at him as if she couldn’t quite understand.


    “What? Who’s coming?”


    Wilson turned toward her and then back to the mayor. He took a deep breath, trying not to collapse right then.


    “The town, mayor. The square is packed. They’re shouting your name… blaming you for everything. They say you brought the Beast.”


    The whisky glass in the mayor’s hand trembled slightly before returning to the table.


    “No… that’s impossible,” he shook his head. “Who is pulling them?”


    Wilson shook his head slowly.


    “There’s no one pushing this. It all ignited on its own… Western Brooks dragged them in, but that doesn’t matter anymore. The Beast, the dead… everything is your fault now. They want to see you dead.”


    Rachel paled, but remained steadfast. The mayor fell silent, his gaze lost in the worn wood of the desk.


    “And the sheriff?” he asked in a softer voice.


    “He’s doing what he can… but this is out of control now,” Wilson stated. “I saw them, mayor… and it’s not just a rumor or an impromptu mob. It’s the entire town.”


    The office fell into a silence that seemed eternal. Only the heavy breathing of Wilson and the distant hum of the city could be heard, as if the world was waiting for the next word.


    And then, in the distance, the sound of a patrol motor broke the air, speeding toward the building.


    Rachel was the first to move, running to the window.


    “It’s Perkins… and Harper is coming with him.”


    The mayor did not react. He seemed carved from stone.


    Seconds later, the door burst open and Perkins stormed into the office, his notebook clutched tight, his face tense and eyes laden with urgency.


    “Sir… there’s no time,” he said directly, breathless. “They’re almost here. We have to get you out!”


    Harper appeared behind him, pale and unable to look anyone in the eye. Behind, a third young officer stood at the main door, a shotgun pressed against his chest and fear etched on his face.


    “Which way?” the mayor asked, unmoving.


    “The back alley…” Perkins proposed. “Get up now. We cover you.”


    But no answer came.


    From the street, like the roar of something living and furious, the first scream was heard.


    Then another.


    And another.


    Rachel slowly turned toward the door, her face ashen.


    “They’re here…”


    Wilson’s ears drooped. Perkins clenched his fists.


    The mayor closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.


    “It’s too late…” he murmured. “They’re here.”


    The roar of the mob thundered against the walls of the town hall.


    Perkins swallowed hard and raised his voice:


    “Even so… we must try.”


    But the mayor did not move. He knew in that instant: there was no escape possible. There was no salvation.


    The office filled with that heavy silence, broken only by the murmur of the approaching crowd, like a dark tide.


    And so, as the entire town converged upon the front door, the mayor of GreenTown prepared to face what was coming… without heroes, without redemption. Only the inevitable end of a place that no longer belonged to him.