Ramirez moved as well. Blake, enough. But Blake wasn't done destroying himself. You think you're all heroes now? He snarled at the victims.
You're nothing without me. Nothing. You were nobodies before I even looked at you. His voice cracked into something manic. Feral.
Naomi watched him carefully, not with hatred, but with the solemnity of someone observing a truth she had known all along. Monsters don't appear overnight. They grow in the dark, nourished by protection and silence. And the silence was officially over. A sudden shout rose from the far end of the crowd.
I have something to show. A student wearing a Riverwood marching band hoodie ran forward holding up his phone. On the screen, a grainy video titled Riverwood Stairs 2023. Naomi's breath stopped. The student plugged his phone into the projector.
The courtyard screen flickered to life and then the entire school watched. Blake shoving a smaller student down a stairwell, laughing as the kid crashed into the railing, walking away like nothing happened. The timestamp was unmistakable. The victim, identified later as a transfer student named Lewis, had left Riverwood shortly afterward. No record of disciplinary action, no investigation.
Harlon's face went corpse pale. Blake stared upward, horrified, as if seeing his own monstrous reflection for the first time. The crowd erupted. Oh my god. He could have killed that kid.
How did the school hide this? That was last year. What else did they bury? Blake screamed over the chaos. That doesn't prove anything.
You can't use that. It's old. It's fake. But no one heard him. No one cared.
His power cracked, then shattered completely as the victims he once terrorized stood defiantly in the open. Ramirez signaled for officers to move closer. Naomi stepped forward, voice cold and resonant. Blake, this is who you've been for years. A predator thriving because adults protected you.
Not anymore. Her words weren't an accusation. They were a eulogy. For the false image Blake had hidden behind his entire life. The monster Harlon protected had finally been exposed.
And now nothing could put that darkness back in the shadows. At the top of the steps, Chairwoman Porter lifted a stack of documents. The board, she announced, is ready to deliver its verdict. The Riverwood Auditorium had never held this many people. Every seat was filled.
Students packed the aisles. Parents stood shoulder-to-shoulderoulder along the walls. Teachers clutched each other in anxious silence. And thousands more watched the live stream projected on screens across the district. The lights dimmed.
The school board filed onto the stage grave, exhausted and fully aware that tonight's ruling would define Riverwood's legacy for decades. Chairwoman Elaine Porter stood at the center podium. Her expression was not triumphant nor relieved. It was solemn the look of someone carrying the weight of an entire community. This hearing, she began, voice echoing through the auditorium, has revealed systemic failures, willful negligence, and deliberate harm.