The safe house was in Ruiru, surrounded by barbed wire, dusty maize fields, and silence that felt heavy.
The girls were now under witness protection, guarded by two plainclothes officers with tired faces and itchy fingers. They slept in twos, rotated watches, and carried pistols in waistbands like tuck-shop change.
But no fence can protect the mind.
Inside, the girls were breaking.
Amina had stopped talking. She stared at walls for hours, holding her rosary so tight it left marks on her fingers.
Mwikali wanted to go home. "Let me face it. If they kill me, they kill me," she said.
Chebet blamed Nyambura.
"This was your idea. This blog. This noise. You knew they'd come for us."
Nyambura didn't reply.
She just looked at her cracked fingernails.
But later that night, when all were asleep, she updated the blog again:
"Even inside protection, we don't feel safe. We miss our beds, our music, our mothers. But what we fear most… is going back to silence."
Kosgei now slept in his car.
He had been suspended silently not by law, but by politics. Mwakazi had told him to "cool down" until heat passed.
But Kosgei was a dog that didn't obey whistles.
He had one plan left: to snatch one of the girls. Cause enough panic to silence the rest.
He went to the black market and found two men from the Coast quiet types with scars on their necks and no questions in their eyes.
"The girl mustn't scream," he told them.
"She won't," one of the men replied, loading a syringe.
Back at Jogoo House, someone had broken the pact of silence.
A clerk named Joan, just 28 and new to the job, had found internal memos buried under files complaints by teachers about "strange punishments," misuse of bursary money, and improper touching.
All ignored.
All signed off by Mwakazi.
Joan scanned everything and sent it anonymously to #ExposeSitura the page Nyambura's supporters had started.
That night, screenshots flooded Twitter.
Mwakazi's shield cracked.
At 3:12 AM, the gate to the Ruiru safe house rattled.
Officer Kiprono stood up slowly, flashlight ready. His partner, Moraa, checked the back fence.
"Nothing."
Then they saw it a small drone buzzing in the air, watching them.
Nyambura watched it too, from the window.
She knew.
"They've found us again."
That morning, the girls refused breakfast.
Amina curled into herself like a leaf. Chebet cried while brushing her teeth.
Miss Mukami was allowed in with strict conditions. When she saw them, she almost cried too.
"They want to destroy your spirits," she said softly. "That's the last stage. That's how monsters win."
Then she paused.
"But there's news."
She pulled out a folded Daily Nation newspaper from her handbag.
Front page:
"Ministry Official Leaks Damning Evidence Against Situra Principal Whistleblower Speaks Out"
Below it: Mwakazi's face. Blurred, but unmistakable.
The headline was bold.
But their courage was bolder