The pack piled on his ride like a flash mob from hell.
Rotten eggs, slimy greens—splat pack on the glass.
Kin howling accusations, gawkers piling on the outrage—Joseph pinned, wheels spinning air.
Snowballed quick; his rig a bunker in the frenzy.
Enforcers finally cleared the path, but too late.
Stocks tanked like a bad moon, online hate crashing in waves.
Joseph's feeds? War zone—torched.
Victim families camped his doorstep round-the-clock, justice on the menu.
Enforcers' memo—"he got played"—fell on deaf ears.
Endgame? Lewis elders stepped up, presser-style.
Public cut-off: no ties, no mercy. Hauled out the bloodline book, scratched him clean.
Joseph? Holed up days—weeks?—a ghost in his own house.
Wrecked and ragged, he smashed the tumbler, staggering down to the basement sha
