"Tell me exactly where you are." Before Zuri could reply, Reed shoved his phone toward her again. "Wait, did she say Dad? Let the viewers see your daddy come save you." Connor laughed. "Like that's ever happening." Zuri ignored them. "Brentwood gas stop." she whispered into the phone.
"Dad, please hurry. They" Her voice cracked. Shadow let out another weak, broken cry. Blake rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, it's not dying." Zuri didn't look at him.
She didn't have to. Her father heard the cry through the phone. His tone shifted instantly. "I'm on my way. Do not move from there." The call ended.
Zuri dropped the phone onto the concrete, clutching Shadow with both arms as if she could physically protect him from everything that had already happened. Reed zoomed in again. Guys, get ready. This is about to get even funnier. But for the first time, something flickered in Blake's eyes.
Uncertainty. What did she tell him? He asked quietly. Connor shrugged. Who cares?
It's just her dad. Reed laughed. Yeah, what's he going to do? None of them knew who they had just provoked. None of them understood the level of danger they had unlocked.
But they were about to. This was only the spark, and the wildfire was already on its way. The sound of Reed's live stream echoed across the gas station like a flare shot into the sky loud enough, fast enough, and messy enough to attract trouble from miles away. Notifications pinged non-stop from his phone. Comments exploded across the screen, half laughing, half asking what the dog had done to deserve it, as if cruelty needed a reason.
Reed laughed proudly. Dude, we're at 300 viewers already. This is insane. Connor leaned over his shoulder squinting. Read the comments, man.
What are they saying? Reed smirked. Mostly asking if the dog is dead yet. Blake's grin sharpened. Let's give them a show then.
Zuri stiffened, shielding Shadow with her body as the dog whimpered against her chest. The concrete beneath him stained darker with each trembling breath he took. She could feel his pulse fluttering like a failing heartbeat against her palm. Panic clawed at her throat, but she forced herself to breathe. Stop filming, she whispered.
Reed zoomed in, ignoring her. Nah. Everyone wants to see what happens next. He wasn't wrong. The first wave of students showed up barely 3 minutes after the live stream started.
Kids in backpacks jogging across the station, some laughing, some confused, some filming before they even understood what they were filming. Within moments, the gas station, once just a bland strip of concrete and pumps, had become a stage. A stage for humiliation. A stage for racism. A stage for violence dressed as entertainment.
Jenna was one of the first to arrive, breathless and anxious. She pushed past a knot of students, her eyes widening when she saw Zuri kneeling on the ground. "Oh my god. Zuri, what happened?" Zuri didn't look up. "They hurt him," she said, her voice barely audible.
"They kicked Shadow." Jenna gasped. "Blake, what the hell is wrong with you?" Blake shrugged, unbothered. "Relax. It's just a dog," Connor chimed in. "And she's just, well, you know." He eyed Zuri with that smugness, that familiar toxic blend of prejudice and cowardice that always hid behind smiles.
Reed tilted his phone toward Jenna. "Hey Jenna, say something to the viewers." "Turn that off," Jenna snapped. "This isn't funny." Reed rolled his eyes. "Everything's funny with the right lighting." More students crowded in. Phones held high like torches in a ritual that had lost its meaning.
The comments on Reed's live stream scrolled rapidly. "Kick it again. LOL. This is wild." "Who's the black girl? Is the dog actually dying?" Zuri felt her stomach twist.
These weren't just witnesses, they were an audience, and Blake performed better with an audience. He swaggered toward her. "Hey Zuri, why don't you cry a little louder for the cameras? The viewers love drama." Jenna shoved him. "Back off." Blake laughed.
"Or what? You going to cry, too?" Jenna didn't answer, but the fury in her eyes said everything. Milo arrived next, quiet, observant, always the one who noticed details others overlooked. He pushed his glasses up and scanned the scene. Is that Shadow?
He asked, horrified. Zuri nodded, swallowing hard. They kicked him. Milo crouched beside her, careful not to touch Shadow. Let me see his collar.
No, don't move him. Zuri cried, panicked. I'm not, Milo assured quickly. I just need to check something. He leaned in, squinting at the thick leather collar, the metal tag glinting under the sun.
When his eyes focused, his entire face shifted from shock to disbelief to dread. Oh my god, he whispered. No way, no way. Blake snorted. What now, nerd?
Milo slowly looked up, voice trembling. This dog, Shadow, he's not just any dog. He's a federal K9. Reed paused mid-laugh. What?
Milo pointed at the tag. Federal K9 unit. He's a certified working dog for a federal agency. This isn't just animal cruelty, you guys just committed a federal offense. For the first time since arriving, silence fell over the crowd.
A heavy, suffocating silence. Blake blinked, confused. You're lying. Milo shook his head. No, I'm not.
Anyone can see the emblem. Look. Dozens of phones zoomed in. Gasps rippled through the students. Holy crap.
Wait, can they go to jail for that? Is this real? No way they're that stupid. Connor stammered. It's just just a tag, could be fake.
No, Milo said. It's real. My brother works with K9 units. I know that emblem anywhere. Reed, suddenly pale, lowered his phone an inch.
Dude, we need to delete the live stream. But Blake shot him a glare. Don't delete anything. If it's real, then deleting the video makes us look guilty. You are guilty, Jenna snapped.
Zuri didn't say anything. Her entire world had narrowed to Shadow's shallow breaths, each one more fragile than the last. But the shift in the crowd's energy, fear replacing laughter, registered somewhere deep inside her. A federal K9, her father's dog, her father's responsibility, her father's rage. No, she whispered, not to the crowd, not to Blake, but to Shadow.