Titan’s heavy head rests in Elias’s lap. The ballroom is dead silent. The flash of the cameras stops. The low hum of the HVAC system suddenly sounds like a roaring jet engine. The smell of expensive lilies and floor wax hangs thick in the chilled air.
“Titan, heel!” I snap. I yank the leather leash. The metal clip clatters against his collar.
He doesn’t move. He lets out a low, rumbling growl. It vibrates through the parquet floor. He shifts his weight, placing his large, scarred body between me and Elias.
The mayor shifts in his seat. A woman in a sequined gown drops her champagne flute. It shatters against the floor. No one moves to clean it up.
I look at Captain Vance. “Captain, the dog is malfunctioning. Let me correct him.”
Vance doesn’t blink. She steps up to the microphone. The feedback whines for a second, then cuts out.
“The dog isn’t malfunctioning, Officer Hayes,” Vance says. Her voice is flat, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “He’s remembering.”
My stomach twists. The room goes completely still. The other officers at the front tables are staring at me. Their faces are blank, judging.
“Three years ago,” Vance continues, “Elias Thorne was dismissed from the K9 unit for alleged animal cruelty and incompetence. Officer Hayes took over the dog. He secured three major cartel busts. He earned the Medal of Valor.”
She pauses. She reaches into her dress uniform jacket. She pulls out a small, silver USB drive. She places it on the podium.
“But Elias Thorne wasn’t abusing the dog,” Vance says. “He was protecting him. And he was protecting the evidence.”
She taps the microphone. The massive screens behind the stage flicker to life.
The video is shaky. It’s from a bodycam. It shows me, three years younger, in an alleyway. I’m holding Titan’s leash. I’m holding a heavy metal baton. I’m striking the dog.
The crowd gasps. A collective, sharp intake of breath.
The video cuts to a new angle. It shows me taking a thick manila envelope from a man in a dark hoodie. I hand the man a duffel bag. I look right into the bodycam and smile.
“Elias saw this,” Vance says. Her voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “He tried to report it. But I was the one who signed off on his psych eval. I was the one who buried his report.”
I take a step back. My polished black shoes squeak against the floor. “That’s… that’s a deepfake. She’s trying to ruin my career because I upstaged her.”
“It’s not a deepfake, Liam,” a new voice says.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the ballroom swing open. Two men in dark suits walk in. They aren’t cops. They wear the sharp, tailored suits of Internal Affairs.
The lead agent, a tall woman with a stern jaw, holds up a thick leather folio.
“Officer Liam Hayes,” she says. Her voice booms off the glass walls. “You are under arrest for bribery, evidence tampering, and animal cruelty.”
The silence in the room doesn’t just fall. It collapses.
I look at the mayor. He is already standing up, moving away from me as if I am contagious. I look at the other officers. They are turning their backs.
The female agent steps forward. The cold steel of the handcuffs clicks loudly as she snaps them around my wrists. The sound is sharp. Final.
“You’re making a mistake,” I stammer. My voice cracks. “I’m the top handler in the precinct. I brought in two million dollars in seized assets.”
“You brought in dirty money,” she says coldly. “And you broke the only good dog in the city.”
They march me out. I don’t look back. I can’t.
I am shoved into the back of a waiting cruiser. The heavy door slams shut. Through the reinforced glass, I see the ballroom doors open again.
Captain Vance walks out. She isn’t holding the leash anymore.
Elias walks beside her. He is wearing a clean, pressed suit. He looks ten years younger.
Titan walks between them. His head is held high. The silver badge on his collar gleams under the streetlights.
Elias reaches down and gently strokes the dog’s head, the silver badge resting cold against his palm.