Chapter 24

Like a thief in the night, the night passed swiftly and silently, enveloping Sir Witson in a sense of anguish. Time seemed to crawl when we desperately await something, and this night was no exception.

Hanna, too, found herself in a state of restlessness, unable to find solace in sleep.

Every moment felt prolonged, as if time refused to move forward. She opened her eyes after unintentionally drifting into slumber, only to find the hours dragging on.

Hanna was perturbed, exhausted, frustrated, and nervous. Confined to a holding cell and separated from Matthew, her situation became even more challenging. She shifted uncomfortably, plagued by an irregular itchiness.

"Please! Help!"

Matt!

Mathew!! X2

Help!!

Her desperate pleas for help grew tired, her voice trembling as she repeatedly called out for Matt, hoping for his presence and support. Yet, her cries seemed futile, falling on deaf ears within the confines of the cell.

Who was Hanna yelling at? There was no one besides her and a few other girls locked together.

Among them, two girls stood out with tattoos adorning their arms, exuding a wild aura. Hanna Hamilton felt a chill run down her spine, hoping she doesn't be a victim of what she watches in crime movies- inmates bullying.

Another girl, dressed in a black gown, appeared chubby, with smudged black eye pencils betraying her tearful state. Her innocent appearance bellied a deep emotional turmoil.

Hanna felt a connection with the girl in the black gown and mustered the courage to reach out, "Hey! I'm Hanna, how did you get here?" introducing herself and inquiring about how she ended up in their current predicament.

But, the girl continued sobbing, leaving Hanna disappointed by the lack of response.

The rest of the group remained calm, as if they had experienced such situations before. It felt strangely normal to them, and they appeared to be locals.

Hanna, on the other hand, struggled to find sobriety or tears. Leaning against the cold steel wall, she sank to the floor, her bag and phone taken from her.

She fought against dwelling on the events leading up to this moment, reminding herself that regret would only consume her.

"Que sera sera," she repeated to herself, determined to focus on the present.

At dawn, a sense of calm and tranquility settles over the scene. The sky gradually transitions from the darkness of night to the gentle hues of dawn.

The air feels cool and invigorating, carrying a soft breeze that rustles the leaves of nearby trees.

As the first rays of sunlight emerge on the horizon, they cast a warm and radiant glow, bathing the surroundings in their gentle light. The melodic chirping of birds fills the air, adding to the serene ambiance.

The weather in Louisiana near the police station during dawn can vary, but typically it is mild, with temperatures ranging from cool to slightly warm.

This peaceful time of day is marked by a sense of quiet anticipation as the day begins to unfold and the police station prepares for the activities that lie ahead.

Suddenly, the tranquility is interrupted as a black Cadillac and a flashy car speed towards the police station, coming to a halt with precision.

Inside the Cadillac sat a commanding figure, a man of immense stature and power. His bald head gleamed under the soft glow of the car's interior lights, accentuating his air of authority. His fair complexion was flawless, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. A meticulously groomed mustache adorned his upper lip, perfectly trimmed to exude confidence and sophistication.

The man was accompanied by his entourage - a skilled driver, two imposing security guards who oozed competence, and an aura of protection. Their presence was a testament to the importance and influence of the man they served.

"Top of the morning, Mr. Dawson!" greeted Chris Bucks, affectionately known as "50 Bucks," with a mixture of uncertainty and a warm smile as he descended the stairs leading to the entrance of the police station.

"You've caught us by surprise on this fine Sunday morning."

However, Mr. Dawson remained in his car, showing no eagerness to step out.

Chris was taken aback by Mr. Dawson's unpleasant response.

"Nothing seems good about the morning," Mr. Dawson's deep baritone voice rang out with confidence from the backseat of his Cadillac, the tinted windows halfway open.

Chris adjusted himself uneasily, his expression filled with worry. "I apologize if there was any issue, but we haven't been near your bank or any of your business areas in Louisiana..."

"I'm also curious about what brings you all the way here..." Chris began to inquire, but he was abruptly interrupted by Mr. Dawson's impatience.

"I was in Louisiana for a business matter, and I was informed that you have something that belongs to me. You have my boy in your little hunting spree..." Mr. Dawson paused, a shudder in his voice.

"Deputy! He's a rising star, the future – my future! And you have him locked up? All because of a damn side pocket."

Chris's posture slumped as he listened to Mr. Dawson's words. "Does Jones know about this?" Mr. Dawson inquired, referring to the head of the police.

The mention of Jones immediately agitated Chris, and without further delay, he left to find Mr. Dawson's son.

Given that it was Sunday morning, not all officers had arrived for their shifts yet, and those present seemed to be moving a bit sluggishly, displaying a hint of laziness.

Chris called out to one specifically, his voice filled with urgency. He commanded Brian to locate and release Matthew Dawson without any delay.

In a matter of seconds, Brian emerged, holding Matthew's jacket and belongings in his hand. Matthew appeared exhausted and sweaty, and Chris and Brian seemed apologetic and fearful, not because of their own wrongdoing, but due to Mr. Dawson's influential power that could make their jobs disappear in an instant.

Matthew was taken aback and more afraid than relieved when he saw his father. It dawned on him that his father was the reason for his release, and he kept his gaze down, filled with shame and weakness.

"You look terrible, son," his father exclaimed, both disappointed and secretly glad. Matthew continued to stare unhappily.

Just then, Mr. Dawson's phone beeped, and he handed it to his son, saying, "It's your mom."

Matthew composed himself and engaged in an emotional conversation filled with greetings, inquiries about his well-being, and concerns about whether he had been harmed.

His mother, Gia, poured out emotional support and care over the phone. However, Matthew interrupted her, reassuring her that he was fine and safe.

Despite the comforting words, he felt troubled.

Before ending the call, he asked about his father's presence in Louisiana, and his mother informed him that Mr. Dawson was there to oversee his businesses. Matthew's fear resurfaced after the call, and he hesitated to ask his dad to also secure Hanna's release.

His relationship with his father was not particularly close, andMr. Dawson's constant pressure on his discipline and career made it difficult to bring up such a request. It would sound foolish.

As he handed the phone back to his dad, Matthew kept his gaze fixed on him, unable to voice his thoughts.

Earlier, Mr. Dawson had arranged for another driver to take Matthew back to school.

As Matthew turned to leave, he remembered something and spoke up anyway, "Oh, and by the way, I wasn't alone when they took me... her name is Hanna... Hanna Hamilton."

Upon hearing Hanna's name, Chris and Brian immediately understood that they needed to release her as well. Matthew's face brightened momentarily, but it was short-lived as his father bid him goodbye, urging him to return to school without delay.

Matthew decided to linger a bit, knowing that Hanna would be released soon. As he sat in the car, he caught a glimpse of a smile reflected across his lips in the rearview mirror.

As the car was about to depart, Matthew remained inside, twisting and turning his neck to catch a glimpse of Hanna. The driver did little to assist, but before the car took off, Matthew managed to see Hanna briefly.

Although she appeared to be in a terrible state, he felt relieved.

Hanna Hamilton breathed in the morning air, feeling a sense of life returning to her, the air outside the cell felt different and satisfying. She was finally free.

Her thoughts immediately turned to her next steps, planning to express her gratitude to the person responsible for her release and then make her way back to school.

However, as she approached the Cadillac, she was met with a stern remark delivered loudly and clearly: "STAY AWAY FROM MATTHEW, MY SON! Don't be a distraction to him or his future. Focus on yourself and stop being a disappointment to your parents too." Mr. Dawson's words were concise but carried a heavy weight, leaving Hanna feeling lost and unsure of how to react.

She stood there, feeling the weight of his words upon her. Perhaps it was best not to say anything and simply nod in acknowledgment.

She expected to receive her phone and bag to go on her way, but to her dismay, 50 Bucks guided her back to a holding cell.

In that moment, she felt utterly defeated. She felt like a spit.