This was the last thing she wanted to do. Emery had never bargained on having a daughter, but she had ended up with one anyways. And somehow she also ended up finding a lonely boy who she now considered a son. But whether or not he meant the world to her was absolutely irrelevant now that she and the entire police department had reason to believe that Laurent was somehow involved in dropping Gunner Castle’s body onto the stage during the snowflake ball. And if he truly was involved, there was also a chance that he might know where Maisie Anderson was taken, or at the very least who had taken her.
But Laurent was stubborn and terrified, and Emery was certain that she would have to poke and pry and yell at him if she was to get information out of him. She’d watched through the security monitors as the cops took him inside, the interrogation room at the station, and she couldn’t help but feel her heart drop at the realization that this was actually happening. A sudden sob broke through, and Emery covered her face with her hands. “Jesus.” She mumbled, the weight of the situation caving in on her. This was going to hurt him just as much as it hurt her, but deep down Emery knew that this needed to be done. And if anyone could get the truth out of him, it was her.
But she had kept any and all signs of weakness behind closed doors. The dark circles under her eyes and pale skin were covered flawlessly with makeup, and her clothing was neat and professional. Sure, maybe when she was alone in her office she turned into a mess of being focused solely on work and living off of coffee, but this was a job, and being put together was required of her. Not to mention that Laurent was incredibly observant. Even the slightest yawn would get him suspicious of her. And so she walked into that interrogation room with confidence and caution and braced herself for the look of surprise from him. He hadn’t been informed, exactly, on who he would be speaking with.
Walking into the room she set down a folder on the table, standing on the opposite side from him. Her gaze was level with his as she finally spoke. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know you, kid. I’m not here to bullshit you. But we need answers, Laurent.” She shifted her weight sightly, her eyes piercing his. “What were you doing around nine o’clock on the evening of the snowflake ball?”
The secret life he’d build up around him had started to break, steadfast walls crumbling down around him while he was helplessly forced to watch everything he’d dared work so hard to build, disappear. All the lies he’d fought to keep secret were unravelling, the safety he’d been foolish enough to believe would protect him was slipping and fading away. He hadn’t realised it at first, too preoccupied with trying to keep himself alive, but the moments he’d spent thinking about his mother had grown more and more infrequent. The constant dull ache in his heart had lessened and the misery of missing her had receded. And as much as he’d tried to convince himself it was all thanks to his growing inner strength, a small part of him digressed; he’d had help. Wyatt’s stubborn urge to protect him, Emery’s almost motherly love and care for him, even Taemin’s incessant, and yet inclusive, nagging - all small pieces of a much larger puzzle that had started to gather, making the first attempts to patch Laurent back together. He’d never felt loved or needed before, but Fairfield, horrors and conspiracies aside, had given him something far more invaluable; he was wanted. Not for money, not for his family’s strength or his father’s influence. Laurent was wanted, and his previously lonely life had become just a little bit brighter.
But if his brother’s sudden arrival had phased him, his grief paled in comparison to the betrayal stabbing at him at the sight of Emery entering the interrogation room. They’d cuffed him on the way from the ballroom to the police car, shoved him into the backseat - caged away like a wild animal no one wanted to touch. The walls of the room they’d dragged him into were dull and grey, trapping him. The image and sounds of Gunner’s dead body hitting the stage continued to play through his head while the fastened the metal cuffs around his wrists to the table, the echo of students screaming accompanying heavy footsteps and the door slamming.
He braced himself, mentally and physically, for whatever they were preparing to throw at him. He’d been in similar situations before; cuffed to a table, surrounded by adults blinded by their hatred for him and everything he represented, powerless in the face of those who wielded the law like a shield. He’d never feared the police, nor the possible consequences of his actions. Back then he’d had his mother’s irresistible charm and money to rely on; now he had his silver tongue, and years of experience at manipulating and lying his way out of any situation.
Any situation that didn’t include the only person in the world, after his mother, he thought he’d ever be able to trust.
Emery looked exhausted, even with the layers of makeup, coffee, and the steadfast determination she carried into the interrogation room with her. Laurent had forgotten just how much other people could hurt him. His stomach dropped, throat tightening at the sound of her voice. This was the last thing he’d expected. Especially after the way she’d sat by his hospital bed after E’s first attack on the students, her hand warm against his arm, her words soft and soothing against the burning pain of the gashes across his back. He’d let himself become familiar around her, comfortable with her presence, and eventually he’d overcome his fear and had somehow started trusting her. She’d been the first person he’d tried to seek out after the Ball fiasco, weaving through the crowds while calling out her name. But the police had gotten to him first, the weight of an officer’s knee against his back too much for him to shake off.
He’d allowed himself to become weak. Even his brother had told him so, gleeful in sight of the hurt and anger his presence had caused Laurent. He’d become too much like the sheep and strayed further and further away from his true identity; the wolf. A predator, hidden in plain sight, mighty and powerful and yet so very, very alone. The room fell silent after Emery asked her question. Laurent’s stared blankly ahead, his gaze fixed on a spot on the mirrored wall just behind her. He could almost feel the presence of the officers hiding behind the deceiving glass panel, cowering in safety while Fairfield’s Head of Security shredded his heart into tiny pieces.
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