We didn't sleep.
Not after what we saw in the server.
Not after discovering that everything — from Killian's torture to Jules's arrest to Lila's death — was signed off with one name:
Level Zero.
Not a title.
A rank.
An identity no one had ever spoken aloud.
Because it was above even Soren.
Above Marrin.
Above the people who erased others for asking questions.
Whoever held the Level Zero designation didn't run Blackmere.
They owned it.
"I always thought Soren was the top," Killian said. "Turns out, he was just middle management in a machine bigger than either of us could imagine."
I stared at the list of access logs.
Each one tagged with a date.
Each one tied to an experiment.
The latest?
"Subject Z. Monroe. Initiation logged: 27 days ago."
That was my transfer date.
My throat burned.
"They were watching me before I arrived."
"Recruiting you," he said. "Or testing to see if you'd break like your sister."
My fists clenched.
"They're going to regret picking me."
We planned everything in the greenhouse.
It had become more than our hideout.
It was the last unmonitored place on campus.
Or so we thought.
Step 1: Assemble witnesses.
Step 2: Release the footage.
Step 3: Take it public — bigger than social media, bigger than student blogs.
Step 4: Crash the Founders Gala.
Because yes — in the middle of all this chaos, Blackmere was still throwing its annual masquerade party for donors, executives, and legacy families.
The theme this year?
"Illuminated Truth."
The irony almost killed me.
I contacted Halvers.
He didn't answer right away.
When he finally replied, it was a single message:
"You're playing a dangerous game. But if you're all in, meet me Thursday. Dress for war."
Two days later, I sat across from Halvers in a campus cafe like we were just discussing literary theory.
Killian sat beside me.
Halvers placed a black folder between us.
Inside: a list of PRAXIS participants.
Names.
Faces.
Contacts.
Even payment logs.
Donor deposits. Professor kickbacks. Silence stipends.
I recognized half of them.
The other half made me sick.
Because they weren't students or staff.
They were parents.
Judges.
Politicians.
One name stood out:
Alecta Board Chair – Cassandra Vale.
I froze.
"Your mother?" I whispered.
Killian stared at the name like it might slit his throat.
"She founded Alecta," Halvers said. "Soren worked for her. Marrin too. They're all just foot soldiers."
Killian was silent.
I reached for his hand under the table.
He didn't pull away.
"So what's the plan?" I asked.
Halvers glanced out the window.
"Cassandra Vale is giving the keynote at the gala. Everyone who matters will be in the room. If you want to light a fire… that's your matchstick."
I swallowed.
"And the footage?"
"You'll get a five-minute interruption window in the live broadcast," he said. "That's all I can guarantee."
Five minutes.
To change everything.
We prepped like rebels going to war.
Jules was still missing. No contact. No trace. But I felt her with me — in every keystroke, every whispered plan, every gut punch of doubt.
I wore black.
Killian wore a suit so sharp it felt like armor.
The gala was hosted in the glass atrium near the east quad — the same place where Lila once delivered a poetry reading on grief.
Now I would deliver retribution.
We arrived separately.
No talking. No eye contact. We moved like strangers in a room full of masks — literal and metaphorical.
Faculty smiled.
Donors toasted.
No one knew a bomb was ticking underneath their champagne.
Except Halvers.
Who gave a subtle nod from the media booth.
Three minutes to go.
I made my way to the side stage.
Killian followed behind after slipping a drive to the sound tech.
The lights dimmed.
Cassandra Vale took the stage.
Blonde. Powerful. A voice like silk hiding razors.
"At Blackmere, we believe truth is the light that guides our future..."
I stepped into the media booth.
Halvers handed me a mic.
"...We are honored to share this institution's next chapter with you…"
I nodded once.
And Halvers flipped the switch.
The screen behind Cassandra flickered.
Paused.
Then changed.
A frozen image of Lila filled the screen.
Wide eyes. Tear-streaked face. Voice clear:
"If you're watching this… I didn't fall. They pushed me."
Gasps.
Silence.
Then footage of students in chairs.
Electrodes. Charts. Fear.
Clips of Marrin and Soren exchanging money.
Of Killian, unconscious, hooked to machines.
Of me — from a library angle I never knew existed — reading Lila's file.
And then…
A title card:
"Welcome to Project PRAXIS – Designed by Alecta."
Five minutes.
That's all we had.
But when the screen cut off, the room wasn't the same.
A scream.
Then another.
And someone — I think it was a professor — threw up.
Cassandra Vale didn't move.
Not even as security rushed the stage.
But I saw her eyes.
And for the first time, they were afraid.
Killian and I ran.
We slipped into the night while the room combusted.
We didn't go far.
Just enough to hear the sirens coming.
That night, I opened my email.
Thousands of messages.
News outlets.
Lawyers.
Students from other schools asking how to fight their own shadows.
And one, at the bottom:
From: J.M.
Subject: I'm alive. You're next.
Attachment: "Zero.jpg"
I clicked.
The image was blurry.
But it showed someone sitting in a black chair.
Face obscured.
Hand on a gavel.
Behind them: a symbol I'd never seen before.
A crown.
Formed from eyes.
Jules was alive.
And she'd found Level Zero.
[Creator's Note – ARE YOU STILL BREATHING??? 😭🔥👑]
Y'ALL.
Zara just hacked the gala. Killian faced down his mother. Jules is ALIVE.
AND WE SAW LEVEL ZERO???
This chapter changed the battlefield — they can't hide anymore.
The war is on.
Zara's not just surviving.
She's leading a movement.
Get ready for Chapter 16 — because now we're going to break the system from the top down. 👑🖤
xoxo
–Smith_10