Transmigrated in Banshee Town

—What is she doing here? —Thompson asked with obvious annoyance, his face tensing as he saw Nola standing behind Ethan.

To Nola, Thompson was just a name, an old friend of her father. But to Thompson, she was the black sheep of the Longshadow family and the eternal headache of former chief and old friend Benjamin.

Nola noticed his surprised look and asked, expressionless:

—What, am I not welcome?

—No, but since you're here with Ethan, you can come in.

Thompson stepped aside.

The house was not as luxurious as she had imagined. It was filled with simple furniture, and above the television, there was a massive mounted deer head.

Ethan walked straight to the couch, and Nola sat beside him without hesitation.

Thompson looked at the two people seated before him and wondered why they had come together to his house. However, he calmly asked:

—A beer?

—Why not? —she answered. As Thompson walked toward the fridge, Ethan asked:

—Where are your wife and kids?

Thompson brought back a few bottles of beer and said apologetically:

—They're on vacation. I really regret not having the chance to express my gratitude. Last time, it was all thanks to you and the police.

Ethan didn't take it too seriously, assuming Thompson had said it casually.

After a few sips of beer, Thompson took the initiative and got to the point:

—Nola, when did you come back?

—Yesterday.

—I'm really sorry for your loss.

—Thanks —Nola replied briefly.

Ethan set his bottle down.

—Nola and I came here this time just for Alex.

Thompson shook his head and spread his hands.

—To be honest, I don't know anything. It all happened too fast. That night, we weren't at the casino.

Nola's gaze sharpened.

—Then, do you know who did it?

Thompson's hand, reaching for his bottle, froze for a moment, and he said nothing.

Nola chuckled.

—You don't actually have to say it. We know it was Proctor.

—I really don't know, Nola. I'm not lying to you. —Thompson looked at Ethan with a wry smile.

Ethan smirked and reached for the police badge hanging from his chest.

Noticing his action, Thompson stared at him in confusion.

—I'm not a cop right now. Just tell me what you know. I'm here for her. —Ethan toyed with the badge for a moment before slipping it into his pocket.

Nola took over.

—I don't need proof. I just need you to tell me who did it. Proctor was in prison, so it wasn't his hand that pulled the trigger. Now tell me who killed my brother.

—Forget it. Just leave and don't come back.

When Thompson heard Nola say she wanted revenge, he quickly set his glass down and said:

—Proctor has too much power. You can't beat him… You'll just end up dead, like your brother.

—When did the Kinaho tribe lose its courage? —Nola shot back, lifting her chin, a defiant glint in her eyes. With a careless motion, she unzipped her jacket and tossed it over the couch's armrest.

She wore only a light gray blouse, and at her sides, two Glock 17Cs were secured beneath her ribs. In one fluid motion, Nola crossed her arms and drew both pistols in the blink of an eye. The extended magazines in the grips made it clear she was ready to unleash a storm of lead.

—Are you going to tell us what you know, or am I going to have to make you? —It wasn't a question; it was a threat. A reminder that she was not someone to be underestimated.

Ethan stepped closer to Nola and said:

—Nola, violence isn't necessary. Let's hear what he has to say.

Nola dropped both pistols onto the table in front of her, their barrels pointing directly at Thompson. Her gaze was cold, impenetrable.

This was exactly what she and Ethan had planned beforehand. The classic good cop, bad cop routine. A simple trick, but also a way for Nola to establish her authority. In the tribe, her reputation had always been a topic of debate, and this was her chance to prove her strength beyond any doubt.

Although she had solved countless problems for the Longshadow family, only Alex knew the truth: Nola had given her brother all the credit to strengthen his position as the next Chief of the tribe.

For a woman, this was the fastest and most decisive way to ensure she was taken seriously.

Just as Ethan had predicted, the moment Thompson saw the weapon in Nola's hands, his body tensed immediately, fully alert.

—The chief was murdered, and your reaction is to just forget about it?

Though it was shameful, Thompson flushed and said:

—Don't think I didn't consider resisting… but Ethan knows I nearly lost my life. And my son too.

—Relax, Nola. Let's hear what he has to say.

Ethan intervened immediately, slipping into the role of the good cop. Though Thompson had rebelled not only against Proctor but also against Alex at one point, all of that could be controlled, buried without needing to be discussed.

Nola straightened her back, released her grip on the pistol calmly, and with an impassive expression, launched her next question.

—In the past, you and George Hunter were plotting to remove him from his position. But today, I heard from my sister-in-law that you recently met with him. Is that true?

Thompson remained silent for a moment before finally saying:

—Things aren't that simple, Nola. We respected your father.

She didn't know what this had to do with her father, but still, Nola sat upright, showing that she was listening carefully.

—When your father built the casino on our land, our tribe found prosperity —Thompson said, his voice carrying the weight of years—. But with growth came the shadow of new problems.

He looked at Nola as if searching her eyes for the answer to long-standing dilemmas.

—Your father made the decision to partner with Proctor back then —he continued, a hint of nostalgia in his tone—. With his help, we were able to eliminate the obstacles that threatened our tribe's expansion.

Thompson slowly reached for a small leather pouch at his side and packed his pipe with tobacco.

—Later, when your father fell ill, we realized Proctor was out of control, and your father could no longer restrain him. He had gained too much influence over some members of the tribal council. His ambition grew like an insatiable beast. A small share of the slot machines wasn't enough. He wanted more. Always more.

—We know about the deal between Proctor and my father —Nola said quickly, trying to piece it all together—. Once the new casino is finished, he gets five percent of the shares, along with other benefits.

—Well, the council wouldn't have had a problem if it were just a minor stake and some profits.

Thompson brought the flame to his pipe, lighting it slowly. He exhaled a thick stream of white smoke before continuing:

—Come on, everyone knows Proctor's real business. And it turns out we also discovered he was using the casino to launder the money he made selling pills.

Nola's expression changed, and she quickly said:

—This is intolerable. It undermines the very foundation of our tribe. How could my father allow this to happen?

—Ben wasn't as strong anymore. We couldn't do anything without risking losing everything.

Thompson took a drag from his pipe and said:

—If the feds even suspect that we're laundering drug money, everything will go to hell, and the Kinaho tribe will be the one to pay the price.

Nola wasn't stupid. Proctor was using the tribe as a shield, ready to distance himself at any moment without suffering any consequences. But once the feds caught even the faintest scent of blood in the casino, they wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice the tribe as a scapegoat.

Nola clenched her teeth and spoke in a deep voice:

—Is this why the council tried to remove Alex?

Thompson looked at Ethan. It was evident that he had a complicated relationship with Nola, so he had no reason not to tell him the truth:

—Don't blame us, kid. Alex wasn't his father; we all saw how Proctor controlled him. Alex was too weak and naive. We thought that if Hunter took control of the tribe, we would still have a chance to curb Proctor's influence.

Thompson bit his pipe and spoke in a heavy voice:

—Everything we did was for the good of the tribe.

Ethan also took out a cigarette and flipped open his lighter:

—You just didn't expect that, in his desperation, Alex would turn to Proctor to maintain control of the tribe, sinking even deeper under his grasp.

—That's right —Thompson took a long drag from his pipe in discontent— Under Proctor's pressure, many members of the committee gave in, so the proposal to remove Alex was rejected.

—Then what happened next? Why did you and my brother meet?

At first, Nola despised Thompson, thinking he was a traitor who wanted to attack her brother right after their father died. However, after learning his original intention, her attitude softened.

—I had a disagreement with Hunter —Thompson said, flicking the ash from his cigarette— If Alex had been removed, Hunter would have been chosen as the new tribal Chief. But his defeat was so humiliating that he resented Alex and turned against him, so I met with him to tell him about it.

—And I think Alex felt cornered too. That kid seems tough on the outside, but inside...

Thompson looked at Nola and said:

—Anyway, I told him I was with him, that he wasn't fighting alone, and to give him the courage to stand firm against Proctor. I still remember that night—Alex called me, excited, and said he had reached a cooperation agreement with the Banshee Police Department to send Proctor to prison together.

—Unexpectedly, shortly after, he disappeared.

After finishing his words, Thompson fell silent, staring at the pipe on the table. Beyond regret, there was also a hint of fear in his eyes.

Although Nola had used provocation a moment ago, Thompson seemed a little scared.

Ethan winked at Nola, who cleared her throat and spoke loudly:

—I want to be the chief.

Thompson snapped out of his daze and came back to his senses:

—What did you say?

Nola spoke seriously.

—I, Nola Longshadow, will take my brother's place and become the new Chief of the Kinaho Tribe. I will not allow my father's and ancestors' legacy to be stained by some damn German trafficker.

Thompson pursed his lips, still unable to believe what he was hearing. This girl, who hadn't returned in years, actually wanted to be the new tribal chief.

—Why?

—Because I am a Longshadow. For more than two centuries, the Kinaho Tribe has always had a chief from our bloodline. And it must remain that way—the leader of the Kinaho Tribe must be a Longshadow by blood.

Nola continued in a firm and unwavering tone:

—If you help me, you will have a permanent seat on the committee in the future. If you turn your back on me, you'll be stuck in that chair forever.

Nola grabbed the two pistols that were on the table and aimed them at Thompson:

—You don't need to say it to my face, I know exactly what you're thinking. Yes, Alex was a coward, but he loved this tribe more than anyone and dreamed of seeing it grow and prosper. But I am not Alex. I am Nola Longshadow. You can stand with me or against me. You decide.

Ethan rested a foot on the table and looked at Thompson with a smile.

Facing the two guns pointed at him, a thin layer of sweat formed on Thompson's forehead. However, after a moment of tension, the corners of his mouth slowly curled up.

—Your father was right, you're just like him.

His gaze hardened before adding:

—More than ever, our tribe needs someone who can do whatever is necessary. Someone who won't waver when making tough decisions, without hesitation.

He paused, evaluating the situation, and finally nodded.

—I'll help you. I can't deny that I've been interested in taking Hunter's seat on the council for a while now.

Thompson's decision was swift. Under the pressure of the threat and the temptation of an opportunity to improve his position in the tribe, he chose to cooperate. He stood up and extended his hand to Nola.

Ethan smiled. From the moment he saw fear in Thompson's eyes, he knew he would give in. People who have lost their courage are the most likely to crumble under pressure.

Thompson and Nola sat down again. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and commented in a light tone:

—Well, now that we've reached an agreement, how about lowering your gun?

Ethan spread his hands in a careless gesture.

—How did you know I had a weapon hidden under the table? —Thompson asked with curiosity.

Ethan shrugged.

—Just professional instinct.

From the moment Nola drew her gun, Ethan had noticed how Thompson's eyes kept darting back to the table. His instincts whispered that something had to be hidden underneath. The man's tension grew more evident with each fleeting, involuntary glance toward his pipe.

No matter how scared someone is, no one surrenders without at least considering fighting when cornered.

Thompson shook his head and let out a resigned sigh.

—Don't worry, it wasn't meant for you. Ever since I was kidnapped last time, I've been hiding weapons in strategic places around my house. I've been a little paranoid since Alex's death.

—I already gave you my word. You can relax.

Ethan looked at Nola, who nodded confidently. Only then did he remove his foot from the table.

If Thompson had made even the slightest suspicious movement, Ethan would have killed him before he could even reach for his weapon.