The Maybach Imperium glided forward, its silent engine carrying them out of the cool shadow of Hangar 14 and back into the glare of late evening.
The hydraulic doors of the hangar rolled upward again, and sunlight poured across the polished bodywork.
Waiting just outside were three vehicles, idled in formation: a white-and-blue LAX Airport Police patrol car at the front, its rooftop lights already flashing in muted warning, and behind it, two black Chevrolet Suburbans with government plates.
Nick’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel when he saw them, and he reported to Liam.
"Sir," he said carefully, nodding toward the formation. "We’ve got company. Patrol in front... but those are federal tags on the Suburbans."
From the backseat, Liam didn’t even shift his posture. He looked at the scene with mild amusement, then. responded, "Don’t worry about it. Just drive. They’re here to escort us."
The words slipped out as casually as if he were talking about a hotel valet.
Nick obeyed without further question, though the tension in his shoulders remained.
Daniel, on the other hand, felt his stomach tighten. His eyes narrowed on the black SUVs. The airport patrol vehicle, he understood immediately, as that was standard procedure.
Whenever a high-profile aircraft — be it Air Force One, a foreign head-of-state jet, or even a commercial widebody under special clearance — entered or left Imperial Terminal, airport police provided lead escort through the service roads.
The patrol car’s flashing lights weren’t just for show; they cleared intersections, kept unauthorized vehicles back, and made sure the taxiing corridors between hangars and road exits stayed sterile. It was routine, logical and necessary.
But the two Suburbans? That was something else entirely.
Government plates. Matte black finish. Windows tinted darker than regulations allowed. He didn’t even need to think too deep to know what it meant. Those weren’t there to clear traffic. They were there to observe and to shadow Liam.
To remind Liam — and anyone watching — that the United States government was paying attention.
Daniel’s jaw clenched, his banker’s mind running through the implications. This wasn’t just spectacle anymore. This was surveillance and this was the government flexing its quiet authority.
His hand curled into a fist against his thigh. He turned, almost against his better judgment, to look at Liam and he saw his employer sat reclined in the backseat, one hand resting lightly against the door, his gaze drifting lazily out the tinted window, looking calm, collected and entirely unbothered.
Daniel studied him for several long seconds, then forced his eyes forward again.
How could an eighteen-year-old face the scrutiny of Homeland Security itself and look like he was heading to brunch in Malibu?
Liam hadn’t told him — couldn’t tell him — but in truth, he had listened in on every word of the Homeland Chief’s orders. He knew precisely why those Suburbans were there. They weren’t attack dogs. They were shepherds, doing their best to keep him boxed in. At least that’s what they want to believe.
Also, it was as just the Homeland chief said, they couldn’t arrest him without cause. He hadn’t broken a single law. Unless, as Liam thought with faint amusement, being wealthy was suddenly illegal.
Nick guided the Imperium forward and immediately, the airport patrol car pulled into motion, with its red-and-blue bar casting rotating flashes across the tarmac.
The first Suburban accelerated smoothly, sliding into position at the front left quarter panel of the Maybach. The second dropped back, nestling into the rear right flank. Together, the three vehicles formed a protective triangle around Liam’s car.
The convoy rolled out, leaving the shadow of Hangar 14 behind.
Outside the terminal, chaos reigned.
Spotters and livestreamers who had been camped all day surged toward the perimeter fences, their cameras struggling to keep up as the obsidian Maybach appeared. The crowd roared again, almost louder than when the jet had landed.
"THAT’S THE CAR! The Maybach! The concept car!" someone screamed.
"Wait a minute... Isn’t that the car that caused the gridlock today and currently trending with the Black Titan?" Someone asked.
"You’re right. It’s the same car. I remember that it drove into the airport and disappeared into southside of it. It must had drove into the same hangar that Black Titan was in," one of the car spotters replied.
"Damn! Bro has a McLaren P1 LM-X, a roadworthy version Maybach concept car and a private A380? Bro’s built different!" One of the plane spotters laughed.
"More than built different. Bro is living in a world completely different from ours. I think there’s rumour about him also having a luxury super yacht."
"Really? When did he purchase that? Where is it docked?" One of the streamers asked.
"I haven’t confirmed. You should ask those yacht spotters. They will probably have more information. But I do hear that it’s docked at Marina del Rey."
"If that’s true, then bro’s a monster. How did he get so rich? I want to be adopted by his family, fr."
While that conversation was going on, phones rose in unison, capturing shaky video as the convoy crept into view. But soon the cheers gave way to confusion when they noticed the patrol vehicle and the two Suburbans flanking the car. And then, the confusion gave way to speculations.
"What’s with the patrol car?"
"Standard, bro, that’s normal. Airport cops always lead." Thɪs chapter is updated by N()velFire.net
"Then what about the Suburbans?"
"They’re... wait. That’s government. Look at the plates."
The words spread like wildfire. Within seconds, Twitter threads and TikTok clips began exploding:
"He’s got gov escort???"
"DHS is literally flanking him. Confirmed."
"So he’s CIA? DARPA? Some Pentagon project?"
"No way this is just a rich kid anymore. No way."
At the fence line, one man shouted to no one in particular, "That’s federal shadowing, not protection! They’re watching him!"
Another countered, "Don’t be dumb. If it was hostile, they wouldn’t be showing it. That’s security. He’s important!"
The debate rippled outward, caught and amplified by livestream chats already surging into the millions.
On a popular Twitch aviation channel, the chat scrolled too fast to read:
"bro gov escort LMFAO"
"this is AREA 51 energy rn"
"look at the SUV spacing, that’s textbook surveillance box"
"he’s gotta be some kind of black budget project"
The blue-red light of the patrol car danced across the Imperium’s polished hood, reflections shifting like liquid flame.
Daniel’s throat was dry. He leaned closer to Liam and whispered, "Sir... this is surveillance. They’re not here for traffic controlbor just a simple escort. They’re here for you."
Liam’s response was a soft chuckle. "I know that, Daniel."
Daniel blinked, incredulous. "You’re not... concerned?"
"Why would I be?" Liam tilted his head slightly, eyes glinting. "They can’t touch me. Not unless they find a crime. And the only crime I’ve committed today is probably giving them something to talk about."
Daniel exhaled slowly, sinking back into the seat. He didn’t know if he should feel reassured or terrified.
Nick kept his eyes on the road, knuckles whitening against the wheel as pedestrians clustered near the service exit, phones raised. Mason, in the passenger seat, scanned the sidewalks with vigilantly.
The convoy reached the perimeter road. Traffic had snarled hopelessly, but the patrol car’s flashing lights cut a clean lane through the chaos.
Drivers leaned out of their windows, shouting, craning for a better look. Some pointed at the Suburbans and whispered about government protection, and others muttered about conspiracy.
From the backseat, Liam simply watched the world blur by, utterly calm.
At last, the convoy reached the airport’s main exit. The sun had dropped lower, painting the glass terminals in molten orange. Crowds had gathered even here, police struggling to keep them back as the Imperium approached.
The patrol car slowed, its lights still spinning. Then, at the outer edge of the airport perimeter, it signaled and peeled off to the right. Standard procedure complete. Its duty was only within the airport grounds.
But the two Suburbans did not leave.
Instead, they shifted smoothly, re-forming tighter around the Maybach as Nick steered toward the highway.
The message was clear. The police escort was gone but the government remained.
Daniel clenched his jaw again, when he saw this.
"They’re not letting us out of their sight," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Liam just smiled faintly, as if amused by the entire performance.
The convoy rolled on, out of the airport and into the gathering night.