At the same time, inside a small studio, Chief Dempsey appeared on live television wearing a strained smile. He tried to explain that the incident was a misunderstanding and that everything would be investigated according to protocol. But viewers could hear the quiver in his voice, see the unease hiding under each shallow breath. Moments after the interview ended, social media erupted with skepticism. For most of the public, Dempsey's words meant nothing after what they had just witnessed.
A young journalist, Naomi Carter, posted a short analysis within the hour. She wrote that when vendors had to defend themselves from the police, Holston faced a problem far larger than misconduct. Her piece spread rapidly, echoing the same rhythm as the circulating video. It struck the already simmering anger in the city, drawing in civil rights groups and political advocacy organizations. Within hours of the clash between Maya and Kellen, the entire city had been pulled into the storm center.
Maya was placed inside an SUV for an initial assessment. When the door shut, the outside noise vanished, leaving only the steady hum of the idling engine. Royce sat across from her, his expression stern but tinged with restrained pride. He told her she had just opened the door for them and for the city. The words made Maya look down at her hand, where bruises from Kellen's grip had already darkened. She felt the weight that truth carried, along with a faint tremor for everything about to descend on Holston.
Royce handed her a cold pack and told her to place it on her shoulder to reduce swelling. His voice lowered as he added that the battle ahead wasn't merely against a few abusive officers, but against an entire system that had learned to protect itself by burying the truth. Maya listened and understood that the next steps would be far more dangerous than what she had just faced in the market.
As they prepared to leave, an urgent internal alert flashed across Royce's device. The message was short and icy: Bravo Unit has activated a level red internal warning. Marcus Hale is summoning the entire team immediately. Royce frowned, caution sharp in his eyes.
The briefing room of Bravo Unit sat on the second floor of the Holston Police Department—a space lit by cold white bulbs and walled in gray, giving the impression of meeting inside a windowless box. When Marcus Hale entered and slammed the door shut, the sharp impact echoed through the room, making the long row of chairs tremble. He stood upright, both hands braced against the metal table, his eyes sweeping across the officers like a man calculating the loyalty of each one. No one spoke; no one even dared breathe too loudly. Every gaze fixed instead on the deep crease between his eyebrows.
Hale spoke with a raspy voice, sharpened like a blade skimming glass: "Every device around that market—collect it. Cameras, phones, anything that recorded." He lifted his chin, eyes slicing from Maddox to Kellen, whose wrist was still bandaged. "If you see a camera, shut it down. If you see someone filming, take it."
Each word hit the table like a heavy object, weighing the room into compressed silence. Kellen tightened his lips while Maddox gave a small nod, a twisted smile forming as though he had been waiting for this order.
Maddox raised a hand, his voice cautious. "What about the girl, Maya? With the FBI involved, what can we even do now?"
Hale looked at him, the corner of his mouth curling into a metallic grin. "You don't touch her. Not even half a finger." He paused, lowering his voice. "Just control everything around her. That market was ours before, and it'll stay ours after. Understand?"