It didn't happen in the middle of the night.
That's what shocked me most.
It happened in broad daylight — while people drank overpriced coffee and checked their phones and laughed like monsters didn't wear badges and hold keys to every locked door on this campus.
They came for Jules.
I was walking back from the admin office, having just filed a formal student safety grievance — not because I thought it would help, but because paper trails made liars squirm — when I heard the sirens.
Two campus patrol cars. One unmarked black sedan. All of them skidding to a stop outside the student library.
And then Jules.
Handcuffed.
Head down.
Her lip was bleeding.
A clipboard-carrying administrator followed close behind, reading off a script that no one else could hear.
The charge?
"Violation of campus data protection protocols."
My blood went cold.
That wasn't a real charge.
It was a punishment.
And worse?
The crowd watched.
Not shocked.
Not outraged.
Just silent.
Like they'd seen this before.
Like they knew the rules.
I ran to the gate.
They wouldn't let me through.
I screamed her name once.
Twice.
She didn't look back.
And I didn't see her again.
I found Professor Halvers in his office twenty minutes later.
His blinds were already closed.
"I saw it," he said. "They moved faster than I expected."
"They arrested her," I said, voice shaking. "For helping me."
"She knew the risks."
"She trusted us."
Halvers looked me in the eye.
"Now you know why your sister died screaming."
I didn't leave my dorm for the rest of the day.
Not even to eat.
Not even when someone knocked three times in slow, deliberate rhythm.
Not even when a paper slipped under the door.
I picked it up with shaking hands.
"You took something. We want it back. Or you'll lose more than your friends."
– A
A.
Alecta.
I'd finally provoked the beast.
And it was hungry.
The next morning, the school newspaper posted a retraction.
"Certain allegations regarding Project PRAXIS and university oversight have been deemed unverified. We apologize for the disruption."
Below it: a statement from the Dean of Students.
"Ms. Zara Monroe is no longer a representative of Blackmere's academic integrity standards. Her presence on campus is under review."
They didn't expel me.
They didn't even call me in.
They wanted me to doubt myself. To rot quietly under the weight of my own paranoia.
But I'd learned something about fear.
It didn't silence me anymore.
It sharpened me.
That night, I walked across campus in plain clothes.
No hoodie.
No disguise.
I walked right up to the chapel steps — the same place Jules handed me her last gift — and stood under the halo of yellow light pouring from the stained-glass window.
And I said it out loud:
"I know what you are."
A shadow stepped forward.
Not Marrin.
Not Soren.
Not security.
Killian.
His face was pale. Bruised. But his eyes — they were alive.
"Jesus," I breathed. "You're—"
"Free?" he said. "Barely."
I wanted to hug him.
But I didn't.
Because I didn't know if we were still on the same side.
He sat beside me on the chapel steps.
Silent for a minute.
Then: "They let me go. But not because they were done with me. They wanted you to see me."
"A warning?"
He nodded. "I'm a living message. 'We still own you.'"
"I don't believe that."
He looked over.
"You should."
I told him about Jules.
About the car. The blood. The scripted arrest.
His jaw clenched. Hands balled into fists.
"She was just trying to help."
"So were you."
He shook his head. "No. I was trying to fix something I helped break."
"You're not the villain, Killian."
"Then what am I?"
I paused.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't have the answer.
He handed me a flash drive.
"What is it?" I asked.
He looked up at the stained-glass Jesus above us, backlit in gold.
"Their backup server," he said. "Their real one."
My breath caught.
"They keep it at the observatory," he added. "Not for data. For isolation. That building isn't on the official power grid. No internet access. No leaks."
"They think that makes it safe."
He nodded. "But I got in once. I know how to do it again."
I stared at the flash drive.
"Zara," he said quietly, "this is the final cut. Everything. Everyone. Names, videos, money trails. Lila's full case file. And mine."
"Yours?"
"They tested on me too."
I blinked. "You never told me that."
"I didn't know until I saw the logs."
He stood.
"Let's finish it."
We broke in that night.
It took seven minutes to bypass the external locks.
Three to cross the dark stairwell.
And only one to find the server room.
Killian moved like he'd done this before.
He had.
He slid the drive into the port. Fingers dancing over keys.
The screen lit up.
And there it was.
Alecta – Root Server
Access Level: Encrypted | Admin Override Required
He looked at me.
I typed Lila's student ID.
The one she used for everything.
ACCESS GRANTED
I laughed.
And cried.
All at once.
We copied the entire server.
It took eleven minutes.
During that time, I read only one file.
Lila's final interview log.
Patient 17 displayed elevated empathy and resistance to conditioning.
Subject did not respond to behavioral suppression.
Advised escalation protocol.
File closed due to "fall-related incident."
And then…
A final line, hidden under a second layer of clearance:
Subject terminated with authorization from Level Zero.
Level Zero.
The top.
The hand behind the curtain.
We left the observatory just before dawn.
The drive was full.
My chest was hollow.
But I wasn't afraid.
Not anymore.
Because I finally knew the truth.
And the truth was worse than I ever imagined.
But now?
It was mine to use.
[Creator's Note – OH MY GOD 😭🔥💻]
ZARA. KILLIAN. THE BACKUP SERVER.
IT'S REAL. IT'S RAW. IT'S EVERYTHING.
Lila's case file. Killian's trauma. The truth behind "Level Zero."
AND THEY STILL HAVE THE DRIVE 😭💔
Also… Jules. Still missing. But not forgotten.
The next chapter changes the game — because the students finally fight back.
Drop your rage, your theories, your "Zillian" feels 😮💨
See you in Chapter 15, besties. We're getting LOUD now.
xoxo
–Smith_10