Chapter 164: Trouble?
"Cavalry has arrived. Finally."
David grinned to himself, the words slipping out like a quiet victory. He had a feeling—no, he knew—that the club had reacted. The captain’s urgency couldn’t be ignored, and most likely, they were already on their way. He leaned back in his chair, his smugness blooming like the sun coming up after a long night.
Bill and Phil, on the other hand, stood frozen in the moment. The captain’s voice—urgent, strained—still echoed in their heads, and a flicker of doubt crept in. For the first time, they felt a little bit of unease. Phil glanced over at Bill, his face tight with worry.
"You don’t think the kids were telling the truth, do you?" Phil asked, voice low and unsure. There was a distinct edge of panic in his tone as the weight of their situation hit him all at once. They might’ve just found themselves in deep trouble.
Bill turned to Phil, his gaze distant for a moment as he processed the captain’s words. The concern was clear in his eyes for just a second, but then, like a switch being flipped, he shook it off. He’d been through too many wild situations to let this one shake him.
"Don’t worry about it," Bill said, his voice more firm than he felt. He exhaled slowly, trying to force calm into the atmosphere. "The captain will be here soon. You handle the one inside. I’ll handle the situation here. Let’s do this quickly—no mistakes." Bill’s voice was sharp, clipped, as he rose from his chair. The urgency in his movements was enough to make Phil jump, and he quickly followed, darting toward the back of the station with a nervous, hurried energy.
David, still lounging in his chair, watched the exchange with mild amusement. He leaned back, arms folded, his grin widening as he saw Bill coming toward him with a pair of scissors in hand. Bill walked over and knelt in front of him, cutting through the zip ties that had been tightly binding David’s wrists earlier.
"Let’s go, kid," Bill muttered as he clipped the final tie. His eyes didn’t meet David’s, but David noticed the slight flicker of tension in Bill’s movements. It was subtle, but it was there.
David, rubbing his wrists with exaggerated flair, flashed a grin at Bill. "Told you guys—we really are footballers," he said, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. His words were part boast, part playful taunt. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to rub it in, especially after hearing Bill talk down to him earlier.
Bill’s jaw tightened at the cocky look on David’s face. His teeth ground together as he stood, letting out a low, almost involuntary growl. "You little..." Bill started, his patience clearly fraying. But before he could finish his thought, a noise from inside the station interrupted him—a loud, unmistakable voice that cut through the tension like a knife.
David froze, suddenly alert as he recognized the voice—Sancho. And, judging by the tone, things were not going well. Sancho’s voice was laced with frustration, sharp and full of indignation.