For the first time since the confrontation, he felt something other than excitement.
He felt exposed.
He deleted the video from his account, but copies had already spread across several platforms. Other users had downloaded it, added captions, and uploaded their own versions.
The internet had swallowed the footage.
There was no simple way to retrieve it.
Mason opened his messages and searched for the photograph of Larry.
He had not taken the picture himself.
He had received it from an unfamiliar account shortly after the confrontation.
The message had contained only three words:
MAKE HIM REMEMBER.
At the time, Mason had assumed it was a joke from someone who had watched the video.
Now the message seemed much more sinister.
He checked the account again.
It had been deleted.
Mason rubbed his face.
"What the hell did we get into?"
Across town, Agrippa sat in a small police station with a cup of untouched coffee between his hands.
He had brought printed screenshots, the original message, and the video saved on his phone. A patrol officer had taken his statement and promised that a detective would review the threats.
The officer had been professional, but Agrippa could tell the case was not yet a priority.
There had been no physical injury requiring medical attention. Trent's identity was known, and the video documented much of the confrontation.
The threatening message was more concerning, especially because it referenced Larry.
"We'll follow up," the officer said.
Agrippa nodded.
"Please make sure the photograph of my son is included in the report."
"It will be."
"And I'd like to know whether the person who sent the message can be identified."
"We'll see what our investigators can determine."
Agrippa thanked him and left.
He did not expect the police to solve everything immediately. He knew that investigations took time, and he had no desire to turn a single confrontation into a public spectacle.
But someone had threatened his child.
That changed the calculation.
He called Larry's school and arranged to speak with the principal. He explained that an incident had occurred at the park and asked that no unfamiliar person be allowed to collect his son.
Then he called his sister, Miriam, who lived fifteen minutes away.
Miriam had been the person who helped him survive the first year after Elena's death. She had brought groceries when he forgot to eat, watched Larry when Agrippa worked overtime, and told him bluntly when grief was turning him into someone his son could no longer reach.
She answered on the second ring.
"What's wrong?"
"Why do you assume something's wrong?"
"Because you never call before lunch unless something's wrong."
Agrippa sighed.
"Fair enough."
He explained what had happened.
Miriam listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she was quiet for several seconds.
"They threatened Larry?"
"They sent a photograph and a message."
"Have you called the police?"
"Yes."
"Good. What else are you doing?"
"Making sure the school knows."
"And?"
Agrippa rubbed the scar beneath his eye.
"I don't know yet."
"Then let me make something clear. You do not have to prove anything to those men."
"I'm not trying to."
"Good. Because I know you, Agrippa. When somebody threatens your family, you become very calm, and that scares me more than when you shout."
He almost smiled.
"I won't do anything reckless."
"I believe you. But you don't have to handle everything alone."
That was something he still struggled to accept.
For years, he had treated independence as a form of protection. If he did not ask for help, nobody could disappoint him. If he did not depend on anyone, nobody could leave.
Elena had spent much of their marriage teaching him that love was not a weakness.
Her death had made the lesson harder to remember.
"I'll keep you updated," he said.
"You'd better."
After the call, Agrippa returned to his truck.
A message appeared on his phone from an old contact.
IS THAT REALLY YOU IN THE PARK VIDEO?
The sender was Victor Hale, a former coach who had helped Agrippa prepare for his first professional title fight.
Agrippa stared at the message.
He had not spoken to Victor in almost four years.
He considered ignoring it.
Then another message arrived.
CALL ME. IT'S IMPORTANT.
Agrippa called.
Victor answered immediately.
"I knew it was you."
"Hello to you too."
"Don't joke with me. I watched the video. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"And the boy?"
"Larry's fine."
"Good."
Victor exhaled.
"Listen carefully. Someone has been asking questions about you."
Agrippa straightened.
"What kind of questions?"
"Your old contracts. Your last few fights. Where you work now. Whether you're still training."
Agrippa felt the familiar coldness settle behind his ribs.
"Who?"
"I don't know. A man contacted the gym two weeks ago. Said he was producing a documentary about retired fighters."
"What's his name?"
"He called himself Daniel Voss."
Agrippa searched his memory.
The name meant nothing.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"