Vanessa:
Abandoning my unfinished meal, I ran outside and called on Lahm, and he drove out a sleek black Audi that could mirror the image of any object it rode past.
I climbed into the passenger's seat, and we zoomed off to the station.
"Is everything okay, Mrs Greyson?" Lahm asked, a spike of worry and curiosity filling his tone.
"I don't know yet. I guess we will find out when we get to the station," I informed him.
The rest of our drive was laced with sweeping silence; I could hear the rapid beat of my uneasy heart.
Though I was deep in thought, I noticed Lahm staring intently at me through the rearview mirror.
As soon as we arrived at the station, I walked into the building, leaving Lahm behind, and headed straight for the receptionist's desk.
I haven't been to the station before, so everything feels new to me. The sight of guns in the hands of some policemen wandering around the premises makes me agitated and a bit unsettled.
The policeman behind the receptionist's desk dialled a number on a landline close to him after I told him who I had come to see.
After he was done, he ordered another policeman to escort me to where Scot was. Getting there, two bodyguards stood on each side of the entrance door.
They wore black suits and black sunglasses. One of them was bald while the other had a blonde ponytail.
They ushered me in. "Vanessa. Good, you're here," Scot's father said when he saw me and turned to look back at the policeman.
It seemed he had just arrived, and I reckoned his bodyguards were the two men standing by the entrance door. "I came as fast as I could when I got your call. What happened?" I asked, looking at them, waiting for the first person to respond, and examining Scot's face, I noticed a little cut above his right brow that had already been treated.
He positioned himself calmly on his seat while the rest of us were standing. He wasn't looking bad.
His suit only had a few rough edges that looked like it had gotten from a struggle.
"While we were on patrol", the policeman started, "we saw Mr. Scot here at a bar in a fight with some group of thugs. Good thing we intervened because we found out he was drunk and had almost ki—" "Was I looking drunk to you?" Scot raised his voice, standing from where he was seated.
"Those bastards should be in jail by now if only you knew how to do your f*****g job."
"Mr Scot, try to understand there was nothing we could do. We had to save the life of one of the victims you almost killed," the police officer defended himself.
"Wait… What do you mean, almost killed? " I asked with raised brows. The policeman heaved a sigh briefly before continuing.
He had the name tag 'Kean' on his chest. "One of the victims was so badly beaten up that he broke his ribs. He's currently unconscious at the hospital," he announced."Oh my God!" I exclaimed as I raised my hand to cover my mouth in shock.
"How is the young man doing now?" Scot's father asked. I could sense he was angry by Scot's meaningless outrage.
But undeterred by his abruptness, he maintained his composure, shoving his hands into his pocket.
"Myself and Mr Scot were just coming from the hospital. I don't think the young man is doing too well.
And most importantly, the family of the injured victim are threatening to—" Kean was suddenly interrupted when a junior officer barged in. All eyes darted to the door. "Sorry for intruding," he apologised after a brisk salute.
"What's the matter?" Kean asked a bit too quickly.
The junior officer took some steady breaths before speaking up."A group of people, along with the reports and paparazzi, have surrounded the building.
They are demanding to hear from Mr Scot concerning the young man who was hospitalised. Somehow the news has circulated." On hearing this, the tension in the room dilated.
"This can't be happening now; I have a conference meeting to handle," Scot's father said, turning to face the policeman, Kean.
"How do we get out of here?"
"There's only one way in and out of the building. We'll make sure to get you out of here as soon as possible, Mr Greyson," Kean announced, assuring him to do his duty as the chief of police.
Kean ordered the officer who barged in earlier. I didn't get to see his name, as he was quick to carry out the orders issued to him.
Glancing at Scot, he had his arms wrapped around his chest, a distinctive look of guilt visible on his face.
He lowered his gaze when he noticed his father's icy glare locked on him."The road is clear, Chief," the second policeman announced when he came back.
We followed him along with the two bodyguards who were standing at the entrance of the office.
We all walked down the hall and nimbly out of the station.
Guards and police officers surrounded us just like in the movies. The burst of rapid-fire clicks struck my face, creating a dazzling display of light as we were being approached by the reporters when we got outside.
The bodyguards quickly move before us to keep them at a distance. It was as if the whole city had heard the news.
Some of the reporters and paparazzi tried to fight their way past the bodyguards to get to us, but the guards were strong enough to keep them at length, roughly shoving anyone who tried to move past them.
Every step I take gives me a thud in my chest. Of course, I'm nervous; who wouldn't be?"Mr Greyson, what do you have to say concerning the incident that happened last night at the bar?"
"Is the young man going to die?"
"Rumour has it that you have anger issues; is it true, Mr Greyson?"
The questions kept flooding in by the reporters but none of us replied.
Scot did a good job protecting me.
I felt his arm curled around my waist, using his suit jacket to shield me from the impromptu snaps of the paparazzi.
I scanned for where Lahm had packed the car, but I couldn't find him or the car. Scot looked at me, noticing how scared I was, and drew me closer to himself.
A jolt of electricity broke down my spine when his bare hand grazed my skin.
Suddenly the same car Lahm had used to bring me here halted in front of us. Displaying a figure I'd never seen before.
He had black sunshades covering his eyes. His sleek black hair was styled in a comb-back pattern, complementing his navy blue suit."Get in," he commanded. I yanked backwards slightly, stepping on Scot's shoes.
Scot leaned down to study the man and suddenly shoved me into the back seat of the car like a piece of luggage.