Part II: The Quiet Before the Storm
Amara's POV
The interview lights were hot ,not warm like sunshine, but harsh like judgment. I sat under them, heartbeat pulsing against my ribs, my hands buried in the pockets of a blazer someone from the station had insisted I wear.
I was supposed to look calm. Strong. Grateful.
But I didn't feel any of those things.
Across from me, the host ...Miss Malika Nyarko ,gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The camera light went red.
"We're live in 3... 2..."
I sucked in a breath.
"Tonight," she began, "we speak to the two girls who uncovered the biggest student-trafficking cover-up in the region's history. Amara Aboah and Lila Mensah. Brave. Bold. Survivors."
I stiffened at that last word.
She turned to me. "Amara, I want to start with a question we all want answered… what made you first suspect that something was wrong at your school?"
I paused.
Because the truth wasn't dramatic. It was ordinary. It was a glance that lasted too long. A girl who vanished. A file that didn't match the lie.
But how do you explain instinct to an audience craving shock?
"I think," I said slowly, "it wasn't one moment. It was all the little ones that built up. The tension. The missing girls. The way the staff acted like everything was fine when it clearly wasn't."
Malika nodded. "And when you finally confirmed the truth... what was your first thought?"
I looked down.
"I was angry. But more than that, I was scared. Not for me for the girls they'd already hurt. And for the ones who might still be next."
She leaned in. "Including Jessa."
"Yes." My throat tightened. "We thought she was dead. Devon made sure we didn't find her. He hid her… so she could survive."
Malika blinked. "And yet, Devon was part of the very group"
"He was trying to take it down from the inside," I said sharply. "He made mistakes. But he risked his life. That matters."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the kind of look that says You're defending the wrong villain.
But I didn't flinch.
Because things weren't black and white anymore. They never were.
Lila's POV
I waited outside the studio in a lobby full of too-white lights and too-polite security guards. The air conditioning hummed louder than the nervous thoughts in my head.
They wouldn't let me speak on camera. Said two girls was "too much at once." Said Amara had "the right tone." I didn't argue.
But I watched from a flat screen near the receptionist's desk, my fists clenched as Amara answered with power in every word.
She was fire. Controlled. Focused. Honest.
But something in my gut twisted.
Because while Amara sat there on camera, someone out here was still watching us.
My phone buzzed. Again.
Unknown Number:
You shouldn't have gone public. Some stories stay buried for a reason.
I stared at the message, the words clawing under my skin.
Before I could reply, another came through.
Check under the bench. Studio entrance. 30 seconds.
I froze.
Got up.
And walked.
Lila's POV (continued)
The wind outside had teeth. Cold, sharp, biting at my skin through the hoodie.
I stood near the entrance, pretending to check my shoe. Then I crouched near the old wooden bench by the wall.
There, underneath, taped to the frame, was a plain white envelope.
I peeled it free.
Looked around.
No one.
I opened it carefully. Inside were photos.
Dozens.
Surveillance images of Amara. Me. Jessa. Devon.
All recent.
Some as early as two days ago.
In classrooms.
Shops.
Even outside the dorm at night.
And written in red ink at the bottom:
You exposed a branch.
The tree is still standing.
Keep digging, and you'll be buried beneath it.
Amara's POV
The interview ended.
Everyone clapped. The producer smiled. The host shook my hand.
"You were incredible," she said. "We'll send the full segment to your inbox by tomorrow."
I nodded, managing a weak smile. But my chest felt tight.
I stepped outside , and there was Lila.
She didn't speak. Just handed me the envelope.
I looked through it, jaw clenched tighter with every photo.
"We were never out," she said. "We just thought we were."
I looked up at her.
And for the first time since the fire, I felt that same weight press down on my lungs.
Not fear.
Not quite.
Awareness.
That the monster we'd exposed was only a piece of something much bigger.
I folded the envelope, tucked it into my bag, and met her eyes.
"We don't stop now."
Lila nodded. "We go deeper."
The storm hadn't passed.
It had only circled back around.