Page 17 of Make Them Cry

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There’s a second clip, edited in like a highlight reel:

“I knew Mason would help me get the job. He owed me, after all.”

It’s not real. It’snot me.But itlooksreal.

Slack explodes.

@devdad86:wait wtf??

@pixeldrop:is this a joke?

@midnightmod:who posted this??

I lurch out of my chair. Gage is already standing, eyes on me. Concern etched between his eyebrows.

“River—”

I bolt.

My hands shake so hard I can’t get my badge to scan at the side door. I punch it once, then shove the bar and push out into the alley, chest heaving. I need out. I willnotlet them see me cry.

The air slaps my face like a punishment. I gulp it in like I can’t get enough.

How—howdid they do that? That interview wasn’t even recorded. It was closed-door. No cameras. Just a few people. Legal. Comms.

My mind is racing and I can’t catch it. I never said those words.

I grab my phone and open the forum again, the one Mask brought me into. My fingers are sweating. I can barely type.

They made a deepfake of me.

I don’t know why I send it. I just do. Like my body knows who to run to now.

The reply is instant.

I know.

I pulled it already, but it spread fast.

Do you trust me?

Tears sting my eyes. I don’t let them fall.

Yes.

Then let me break them.

I grip the phone tight. Like it’s the only thing keeping me from shattering.

Okay, make them cry.

Another ping.

That’s the plan.

And for the first time since this started, I don’t feel helpless.

I feeldangerous.

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