Thorne was recovering, grabbing his jaw. He looked up, his eyes wide with murderous rage. "Get her!"
I didn't run for the door. It was locked from the inside, and they would catch me before I could unbolt it.
Instead, I ran straight for the instructor's main computer console on the front wall.
It was the control terminal for the entire lab. It monitored the digital vitals of the dummies. But it also controlled the school's emergency intercom system, used by the nurse to call lockdowns during medical emergencies.
I hit the console, slamming my bloody palm down on the massive red ALL-CALL BROADCAST button.
The console beeped loudly. A small green light flashed, indicating the microphone embedded in the console was now live and broadcasting to every speaker on campus, including the gym where three hundred students were having an overnight lock-in.
I spun around to face Thorne just as he reached the desk, lunging at me.
"You admit it!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, ensuring the microphone picked up every word. "You admit you pushed Sarah down the stairs to secure the scholarship for your niece! You admit Captain Sterling covered it up!"
Thorne stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the flashing green light on the console.
He realized instantly what it was.
The blood drained from his face. The entire school was listening.
"Turn that off," Thorne whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and absolute fury.
"They hear you!" I yelled, refusing to move. "The whole school just heard you try to kill me! They heard you admit to wiping Sarah's phone!"
Thorne let out a primal scream of rage. He lunged over the desk, his massive hands reaching for my throat. He didn't care who was listening anymore. His entire life was destroyed, and he wanted me dead.
His fingers closed around my windpipe, crushing the air out of my lungs. I slammed backward against the whiteboard, clawing desperately at his wrists, but he was too strong.
Suddenly, a blur of navy blue slammed into Thorne’s side.
It was Chloe.
She hit him with her entire body weight, screaming in raw, hysterical rage. Thorne stumbled, his grip loosening on my throat just enough for me to tear away. Chloe grabbed a heavy anatomy textbook from the desk and swung it directly into the side of her uncle's head.
Thorne collapsed onto the linoleum, clutching his head and groaning in pain.
Chloe stood over him, dropping the book, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face. She looked at me, her arrogant, pristine facade completely destroyed. She looked like a broken child.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Before I could answer, the heavy doors of the lab practically exploded off their hinges.
The school's legitimate nighttime security team, accompanied by two of the faculty chaperones from the gym, burst into the room. They had heard everything on the speakers.
"Don't move!" one of the guards yelled, shining a massive flashlight directly into Thorne’s face.
Behind them, the faint, wailing sound of approaching sirens pierced the night air. And they weren't local police. The teachers had called the state troopers.
It was over.
The aftermath was a blur of flashing lights, frantic questioning, and endless cups of terrible coffee in the state police precinct.
Thorne and Davis were arrested that night. Captain Sterling was taken into custody at his home three hours later by state investigators. The sheer scale of the corruption—the extortion, the rigged scholarships, the attempted murder—made national news by morning.
Chloe wasn't arrested. Because she physically intervened and ultimately confessed everything to the state troopers, she was given leniency and entered a diversion program. She transferred to a school in another state entirely, completely cut off from the wealth and prestige of her disgraced family.
A week later, the smell of isopropyl alcohol finally felt like a good thing again.
I was sitting in Room 314. The sun was shining through the hospital window, casting a warm, golden light across the bed.
The terrifying, rhythmic hiss-click of the ventilator was gone.
I reached out and squeezed Sarah’s hand. Her fingers twitched.
Slowly, painfully, she squeezed back.
I looked up. Her eyes were open, blinking slowly against the bright light. She looked exhausted, battered, and fragile, but she was looking at me with total clarity.
"Maya?" she whispered, her voice a dry rasp.
"I'm here," I choked out, a massive, overwhelming wave of relief crashing over me. The tears I had been fighting for weeks finally broke loose. "I'm right here."
"My phone," Sarah whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Thorne... he tried to take it."
"I know," I said gently, brushing the hair off her forehead. I leaned closer, a fierce, protective smile breaking through my tears. "We got it back. We got everything back."
THE END