Chapter 3 Silent Screams – Belle #2
I spot her during my evening walk—Selena’s assistant, a woman named Victoria Charlson whom I’d barely registered before this week. She’s standing near the dormitory entrance, ostensibly checking her phone, but her eyes track my movement.
She’s been following me all day. Not obviously—she’s too well-trained for that.
But I’ve been watching for surveillance, and once you know what to look for, it’s impossible to miss.
She was in the dining hall during lunch, three tables away.
In the library during my study session, browsing the stacks nearby.
Outside the Computer Science building when I left Professor Austin’s office.
Always nearby. Always watching.
I pull out my own phone, pretending to text Max, and use the camera to scan the area. There—another figure by the gymnasium, trying to look casual. And there, someone smoking near the academic building’s entrance who’s been in the same spot for over an hour.
Selena doesn’t just have cameras. She has people. A whole network of watchers making sure her “protected” students don’t step out of line.
My stomach twists as I realize the scale of this. It’s not just surveillance. It’s total control. She knows where we are every moment of every day. Knows who we talk to, what we do, probably what we’re thinking based on our patterns and behaviors.
We’re not students here. We’re specimens. Lab rats in her perfectly controlled experiment.
I force myself to keep walking, maintaining the casual pace of someone just getting evening exercise. Can’t let them see me panic. Can’t let them know I’ve figured out the game.
My phone actually buzzes—Max texting for real this time. Where are you?
Just walking. Clearing my head. Be back soon, I reply, keeping it innocuous.
Want company?
No, I’m good. Need to think.
I can picture him in our room, frustrated and worried, wanting to help but not knowing how.
We haven’t been able to have a real conversation since my revelation about Selena.
Every word we speak is monitored. Every moment we share is being recorded.
There’s no privacy, no safety, no place where we can plan without being overheard.
Except maybe the old computer lab. If Professor Austin is right, if those legacy systems really are outside Selena’s surveillance network, then that’s where we need to go.
Tuesday evening. I can make up some excuse about needing to work on my assignment, and use the outdated equipment to “troubleshoot” my code.
But that’s still three days away. Three days of pretending everything is fine while I quietly lose my mind. Three days of watching Luna and Erik trust someone who’s been manipulating us all along. Three days of cataloging surveillance and trying not to tip our hand.
I can’t wait that long. I’ll have to come up with something else in the meantime.
I complete my circuit of the campus, noting every camera placement, every potential watcher, every blind spot that might offer even momentary freedom from observation. There aren’t many. Selena has been thorough.
Victoria Charlson is still near the dormitory when I return. She doesn’t look at me directly, but I feel her attention like a physical weight.
“Evening,” I say pleasantly as I pass.
“Evening,” she replies with a professional smile.
And just like that, we both acknowledge the game we’re playing without saying a word.
***
Max is pretending to study when I return to our room, but I can see the tension in every line of his body. I drop my bag by the door, kick off my shoes, and climb onto the bed beside him.
“Hey,” I say at normal volume. “Sorry I took so long. Needed to clear my head.”
“Feel better?” He closes his textbook, turning to face me.
“A little.” I lean against him, positioning myself so my back is to the smoke detector, my face hidden from the camera’s view. My hand finds his, and I trace letters on his palm with my fingertip.
“Want to watch something?” he asks aloud. “Take your mind off things?”
“Sure,” I say, grabbing my laptop. “Your pick.”
While he queues up some action movie on Netflix, I prepare the bed.
Soon after, we settle in to watch the movie, our bodies close, seeking comfort in physical contact since verbal reassurance is impossible.
But my mind is racing, cataloging everything I’ve learned, everything I suspect, everything I still need to prove.
Selena is The Architect. She’s been watching us since we arrived, probably longer. The entire island is her surveillance network, her kingdom, her hunting ground. She killed Dominic to gain our trust, brought us here to trap us, and now she’s waiting. But for what?
What does The Architect want with four damaged kids who’ve already testified against their parents? We’re not useful as leverage anymore. Our families are in prison, their networks dismantled. We’re not threats—we’re barely surviving.
Unless…
Unless we’re not the real targets. Unless this is about something bigger.
I think about the other students here, the children of powerful families who come to Shark Bay seeking refuge from “complicated circumstances.” I think about how perfect it would be—a steady stream of vulnerable kids from influential families, all isolated on an island, all under the control of someone who knows exactly how to exploit them.
Selena isn’t just continuing the network my parents and Luna’s parents built. She’s perfecting it.
And we walked right into her hands.
The movie plays on, explosions and gunfire filling our room with noise and distraction. Max’s arm tightens around me, and I let myself lean into him, drawing what comfort I can from his presence.
We need to figure out how to warn Luna and Erik. How to gather evidence. How to get off this island alive.
I glance up at the smoke detector, at the tiny lens recording our every move. Somewhere, Selena is probably watching. Seeing two students cuddled in bed, watching a movie, looking for all the world like a normal couple having a quiet evening in.
She has no idea that I see her now. That I know what she is, what this place is, what she’s planning.
The Architect thinks she’s won. Thinks she has us exactly where she wants us, compliant and grateful and oblivious.
But I’ve played this game before. I’ve been underestimated my entire life—by my parents, by their associates, by everyone who looked at me and saw a pretty face and a useful tool instead of someone with her own agency.
Selena made the same mistake they all did.
She forgot that monsters can recognize each other.
And I spent my entire childhood learning from the very best.