She rubbed her temples, staring at the paused frame on her tablet. Ava's face pressed against the car, blood on her temple, Callahan's hand gripping her arm. Delete it. She ordered softly. Her deputy frowned.
Ma'am, it's everywhere now. Delgado exhaled through her nose. The weight of her mayoral campaign pressing like a stone on her chest. Then we need time. Keep her in custody until the fire burns out.
No leaks, no comments. The deputy hesitated. And Callahan? He's a fool, but a useful one. She said.
Protect the department first. Everything else can burn later. By 6:00 p.m., the precinct was surrounded. Protesters gathered outside with handmade signs, "Justice for Ava", "No more broken cameras", "We see you". The chants rattled the windows.
Kayla Monroe stood among them, her drone hovering overhead, streaming live. Her feed had hit 15 million views, the number climbing by the second. She'd received threats, offers, even fake subpoenas, but she didn't care. She had the footage, the truth, and a million people behind her. Into her mic she said, "They thought no one would see, but we did, and we're not shutting up.
Back inside, Ava could faintly hear the noise through the walls. The crowd's rhythm like a heartbeat pulsing in the distance. It gave her strength. She stood and examined the small vent above the door, whispering as if the concrete could listen. They can lock me up, but they can't lock out the truth.
She noticed the corridor light flicker outside her cell, the camera above the door blinking twice before going dark. Another malfunction, another lie. She knew this playbook. She'd prosecuted cops for it. Disable the feed, delay the log, rewrite the report.
But they'd made one mistake. Millions were already watching. Down the hall, Travis watched the protests on a muted TV. The footage of himself was everywhere. His face, his badge number, the shove, the blood.
He felt exposed, naked in a way no vest could protect. He told himself he didn't mean for it to go that far. He just wanted control, not chaos. But the more he watched, the more he realized he'd lit a fuse that couldn't be put out. His captain walked in, jaw tight.
You've done it now. Travis, the feds are calling. You better pray she doesn't press charges. Travis's hands shook. She was reaching for something in her car.