Riker's blood ran cold. He jerked the phone closer to his face. The number glowed at him. 743 watching. Then 82.
Then 941. He froze. Truly froze. No. No.
No. "This is a private stream. This is just for—" "It's not!" Zayn screamed. It's on the school network.
Someone had just shared it. Someone had saved it. Someone had broadcast it beyond their control. Down in the cafeteria, a group of students circled a phone. In the library, the librarian gasped and covered her mouth.
In an English class, a teacher paused mid-sentence as half the room turned pale watching the scene unfold. Someone recorded the livestream, saved the file, and sent it directly straight to the school's disciplinary officer. A senior named Callie whispered, "She's not the one attacking them. She's defending herself." A freshman whispered, "I I think they tried to drown her."
In the math wing, teacher Mr. Hanley, who had already seen something from the courtyard, received the link from a student. His face hardened as he enlarged the video frame. Up on the roof, the wind howled with new ferocity, like the school itself was reacting. Riker's world was collapsing. "This—this isn't—no, this isn't right," Riker sputtered, switching to a fake cough, trying to look injured.
"She's dangerous. She's out of control." But the comments were merciless. No one believes you. We saw you grab her hair.
This is assault on your part, not hers. Dude, stop lying before it gets worse. Too late. We sent the video to admin. Riker's hand shook so violently, the camera view wobbled.
He finally saw the red dot. Not recording. Live. His face drained of color. And no, this can't this can't be happening.
But it was and it was irreversible. A single student comment hit harder than any punch. Riker Hail just ended his own career. Nadira exhaled slowly. She didn't smile.
She didn't taunt. She simply stood tall. Water dripping down her sleeves. A warrior in a storm that wasn't hers, but no longer controlled by the boys who started it. Riker's panic snapped, turning feral.
"No," he hissed. "No, I can fix this. I can fix this." He lifted the phone again. The camera caught his distorted expression.