Milo half-conscious but stirring. Riker's face tightened. His jaw pulsed. He finally sensed the danger wasn't the fight. It was the narrative.
If the school saw Nadira this way, calm, controlled, not aggressor, his lie wouldn't hold. His power would crumble. "We're not done," he snapped, voice trembling. "All of you, now." Zayn limped forward.
Trent roared in frustration. Even Milo began pushing himself up, dazed but determined. Three bodies, one target. Rooftop winds screaming, phone recording, viewers multiplying, the true storm was about to begin. Down in the school hallways, phones buzzed non-stop as the livestream spread.
Students watching with wide eyes as the truth, raw and unfiltered, began flipping the narrative against the Blaze Jackets. And with comments exploding across screens, the rooftop fight took a dangerous new turn. One Riker never anticipated. But one Nadira had no choice but to survive. The rooftop fight was no longer a private act of cruelty.
It had become a broadcast event. Riker's trembling hand held his phone outward. camera pointed at Nadira, but the screen in his palm was lighting up with something he did not expect. Comments, dozens, then hundreds. The viewer count jumped past 500, then six, then seven. Notifications echoed in classrooms, hallways, bathrooms.
Students nudged each other, whispering as they watched the Blaze jackets Grantville High's Golden Boys, scramble around a soaked rooftop like rats in a flood. Riker didn't know any of it yet. He only knew his heartbeat was spiraling out of control. "Look at her!" he shouted into the camera, trying to force panic into his voice. "She's attacking us.
We're lucky to be alive." His voice cracked. He heard it. So did everyone watching. He swung the camera dramatically toward Milo, groaning on the ground, then toward Zayn, clutching his elbow.
"See? See? She did this." But the livestream captured more than Riker intended. It captured the overturned bucket, the puddle of water around it, the wetness dripping from Nadira's hair and collar, the corner of the rooftop railing where she'd been trapped, and the background audio.
Zayn swearing, Trent yelling, Milo threatening was still echoing faintly, contradicting everything Riker was trying to paint. Then the comments started flooding the screen faster than the video could scroll. Bro, we saw you push her. Riker, shut up. The camera caught everything.
Is she soaked? Did you dunk her head? Y'all jumped her. Don't lie now. This is messed up.
Riker didn't see the comments, but Nadira did. From where she stood, breathing hard, knees bent, feet planted, she watched the phone screen light up. The words were small, overlapping, chaotic, but she understood the message. People were seeing the truth. Riker realized something was wrong.
Only when Zayn shouted, "Dude, why is my sister texting me? She says she's watching us." Riker's stomach dropped. "What?" he barked. She says, "There are 700 people on your live."