Forty -Eight Hours to Survive

The.Monster

Chapter 2: The Monster

I have been called a lot of things at Kingsley Prep.

A problem. A liability. A walking donation with a disciplinary file thick enough to stop a bullet.

But tonight the podcast called me guilty.

Lila’s voice is still whispering through Maya’s earbud. “If Damon Cole is standing beside you, you’re already too late.”

Maya flinches like she’s been shot.

Her name is Maya Patel. Scholarship. Perfect GPA. Library shifts. The kind of girl the council steps over without looking down. I know because I make it a point to know who gets hurt when I move.

She doesn’t hand me the drive.

Good. I was hoping she wouldn’t.

The footsteps in the hallway are getting closer. Not security. Security walks like they’re already bored. These footsteps are measured. Whoever is coming already knows which room we’re in.

“Put it in your pocket,” I say, and my voice comes out low because if I raise it I’ll sound like I care and I stopped doing that two years ago.

Maya stares at me. “Why should I?”

“Because whoever is listening to that podcast just told them exactly where we are,” I say. “And because if they find it on you, you’ll be expelled by morning and I’ll be arrested by noon.”

The door handle rattles.

Maya shoves the drive into her hoodie pocket. Her hands are shaking. Mine aren’t. Mine haven’t shaken since I was fourteen and watched my older brother get dragged out of our house in handcuffs while my father told the cameras it was a misunderstanding.

The door opens.

It isn’t a teacher. It isn’t security.

Trent Vance stands in the doorway. Student Council President. Varsity captain. The golden boy who smiles for the yearbook and breaks things in the dark.

His eyes move from me to Maya, then to the trash bag on the floor. “Curfew violation,” he says pleasantly. “Both of you. Storage rooms are off-limits after ten.”

“Then you should write yourself up too,” I say. “You’re here.”

His smile thins. “You’re still incapable of following rules, Cole.”

“I’ve never been good at pretending they apply to everyone.”

His gaze flicks toward Maya’s pocket. He knows. Of course he knows. The council has been running this school like a private kingdom since freshman year. Blackmail folders. Party photos. The things they buried when Lila started asking questions.

“I heard the podcast,” Trent says. “Creepy stuff. You think someone’s targeting us?”

I don’t answer. Answering gives him information.

Maya does, because she’s brave in the stupid way people are when they have nothing left to lose. “Are you here alone?”

Trent laughs. “Should I be scared of the scholarship girl and the school dropout?”

I take one step forward and his smile disappears.

“Don’t,” I say. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it with an audience.”

“Or what?” Trent asks. “You’ll tell your daddy? Oh wait. He’s in prison. My mistake.”

My fist moves before my brain catches up. It connects with his jaw and he stumbles into the hallway. He doesn’t fall. He’s too well trained for that. He just wipes the blood from his lip and looks at me like I confirmed everything he’s ever said about me.

“Assault,” Trent says. “That’s going in the report.”

“Then put it in the same report where you explain why you’re in a restricted area at midnight,” I say.

His gaze shifts to Maya. “You should be careful who you trust, Patel. People like him don’t save anyone. They just drag you down with them.”

Then he walks away. No threats. He doesn’t need one. He’ll let the system do it for him.

The hallway goes quiet.

Maya exhales like she’s been holding her breath since prom. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes,” I say. “I did.”

She looks at my bleeding knuckles. “Why?”

“Because he wanted you afraid,” I say. “And now he knows I’m willing to hit him.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

We don’t move for a second. The storage room smells like glitter and panic. Maya pulls the drive out. “What’s on it?”

“Something Lila found,” I say. “Proof. About the council. About the money. About why she disappeared.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I was there the night she told me she was going to leak it,” I say. “And because three days later she was gone.”

Maya looks at me like I just admitted to murder. “You knew her.”

“I knew all of them,” I say. “That’s the problem.”

I expect her to ask why I didn’t stop it. Why I didn’t go to the police. She doesn’t. She just holds the drive tighter. “Then we listen to it. Now.”

“No,” I say. “Not here. Not on school wifi. Not with Trent ten feet away.”

“Where then?”

“My car.”

“You have a car?”

“I have a lot of things people don’t think I have,” I say. “Come on.”

We move fast. The halls are empty but the cameras aren’t. I take the route with the fewest blind spots and don’t explain how I know it. Maya doesn’t ask. Not yet.

Outside, the air is cold. My car is parked behind the gym, an old black Charger that my brother left me before he went away. It’s the only thing I own that doesn’t have my father’s name on it.

Maya slides into the passenger seat and immediately checks the locks. Smart.

I start the engine but I don’t drive. “Give me the drive.”

“No,” Maya says.

I look at her. Really look at her. She’s sitting beside me with a piece of evidence that could destroy half the people who run this school, and she’s still trying to decide whether I’m worse than them.

“Everyone wants that drive,” I say. “The council. The police. My father. You have no idea what you’re holding.”

“Then tell me,” she says. “Because right now the only person who’s tried to protect me is you, and you did it by punching the student council president.”

Fair point.

I run a hand over my face. “Lila was investigating the council. They were using school funds to pay off people. Victims. Witnesses. Anyone who got too close to what happened last year at the lake house.”

Maya goes still. “What happened at the lake house?”

“A girl fell. Or was pushed. The official story is accident. Lila didn’t believe it.”

“And you do?”

“I believe Lila believed it,” I say. “And I believe they killed her for it.”

The word hangs between us. Killed. Not disappeared. Not ran away. Killed.

Maya’s throat moves. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Because I didn’t know how,” I say. That’s the answer she’s getting for now.

She studies me, then holds out the drive. I take it. She immediately reaches for it again. “I changed my mind.”

“You don’t trust me,” I say.

“No,” Maya says.

“Good.”

I plug the drive into the dash port. The screen lights up. One file. Audio_04.mp3.

Maya leans closer. I press play.

Static. Then Lila’s voice. Clear. Calm. Terrifying.

“Hi. If you’re hearing this, I’m already gone. The student council has a ledger. Names. Dates. Payments. It’s in the headmaster’s office, behind the portrait of the founder. They think no one will look there. They’re wrong.”

A pause.

“Trent Vance signed off on the first payment. Damon Cole’s father signed the second. And there’s a third name. I don’t know who it is yet. But I will. And when I do, I’m going to put it all on the podcast.”

The recording ends.

Silence.

Maya whispers, “Damon Cole’s father.”

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s me.”

She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t scream. She just looks at me like she’s trying to solve an equation with too many variables. “My father didn’t kill anyone,” I say. “But he paid to make sure no one talked about it. That’s almost worse.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re not going to survive this if you don’t know who you’re dealing with,” I say. “And because I’m tired of pretending I’m not part of it.”

My phone buzzes on the dash. Unknown number. I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The podcast app on my phone opens by itself.

Episode 5. Live now.

The thumbnail is a photo of the library. Taken tonight. Timestamped ten minutes ago.

The title: *The Scholarship Girl and the Monster.*

My blood goes cold. Maya sees it too. “They’re watching us.”

The audio starts automatically. A new voice. Not Lila’s. Distorted. Male.

“Episode Five. Tonight’s target is someone who thinks they can hide. Someone who thinks a perfect GPA and a mop will keep them safe. Maya Patel. You found the drive. You should have run. Now it’s too late.”

A beat.

“And Damon Cole. We see you. We’ve always seen you. You can’t save her. You couldn’t save Lila.”

The recording cuts off.

Outside the car, headlights sweep across the parking lot. Slow. Stopping.

Maya grabs my arm. Her fingers are ice. “Drive.”

I put the car in gear. “Where?”

“Anywhere they aren’t,” she says. “Because if that podcast is live, then they know we’re in this car right now.”

I hit the gas. The Charger roars and we peel out of the lot.

In the rearview, another car pulls out behind us. No lights. No siren. Just following.

Maya looks at me. “You said alliance wasn’t offered. It was demanded.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Then demand it,” she says. “Because I’m not dying in episode six.”

I glance at her. At the drive in her lap. At the fear she’s trying so hard not to show.

“Fine,” I say. “Alliance. But we do this my way. No cops. No council. No trust.”

“Deal,” Maya says. “But if you lie to me, I will burn y

ou down with the rest of them.”

“Fair,” I say.

The car behind us speeds up.

And my phone buzzes again. Another notification.

Episode 6. Scheduled.

Countdown: 48 hours.

The voice isn’t Lila’s anymore.

It’s mine.