Chapter 7 Dangerous Games – Belle #3
“Shouldn’t I be angry?” The words come out sharper than I intend.
“We walked right into her trap. We thought we were safe, and all along she was watching us, cataloging our weaknesses, waiting for the perfect moment to—” I cut myself off, forcing myself to breathe.
“I’m angry at myself for being so fucking stupid. ”
“You’re not stupid. None of us are.” Max’s hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “Selena’s been doing this for decades. She’s perfected the art of manipulation. She knew exactly what to say, how to present herself, to make us believe she was our savior.”
“And now we’re stuck on this fucking island with her.” I close my eyes, trying to block out the reality of our situation. “Every door we walk through, every corridor we turn down, she’s watching. Listening. Planning whatever comes next.”
“Then we give her what she expects to see.” Max’s voice is gentle but firm. “Two students in love, trying to rebuild their lives after trauma. Nothing suspicious. Nothing that would make her think we’ve figured out her game.”
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. “And meanwhile?”
“Meanwhile, we find a way to communicate with Luna and Erik without being overheard. We look for blind spots in her surveillance. We gather evidence.” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “And we survive, Belle. Together. Like we always have.”
The promise in his voice makes my throat tight. Max has seen me at my worst—manipulative, cruel, using sex as a weapon and control as armor. He knows about my family, about what they did to me, about what they made me do to others. And somehow, impossibly, he loves me in spite of it.
Or maybe he loves me because of it. Because he understands what it means to be born into a world where children are currency, where innocence is just another commodity to be exploited.
“I’m scared,” I admit, the words barely above a whisper. “I’m terrified that this time, we won’t make it out. That Selena will realize we know, and we’ll just… disappear. Like Janet Wilson. Like all the others.”
“I’m scared too.” His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. “But I’d rather die fighting beside you than live in ignorance. At least now we know what we’re up against.”
Do we, though? I think about the recovered memories, about how easily my parents manipulated my mind, making me believe I was a killer when I was really just another victim.
What if there’s more I don’t remember? What if Selena has been inside my head since the beginning?
Has my perception been altered? The suggestions planted?
What if nothing I remember is real?
The thought sends ice through my veins, and I press closer to Max, needing his warmth, his presence, his absolute certainty that we’re on the right side of this fight.
“Promise me something,” I say against his chest.
“Anything.”
“If it comes down to choosing between exposing Selena and keeping each other safe—” I swallow hard. “Promise me you’ll choose the truth. That you won’t let her win just to save me.”
Max is quiet for a long moment. His heartbeat thuds steady and strong beneath my ear, a metronome counting down to whatever comes next.
“I can’t promise that,” he finally says. “Because if choosing the truth means losing you, then fuck the truth. I choose you, Belle. Every time. No matter what.”
It’s the wrong answer. The selfish answer. The answer that means we might fail, that Selena might win, that more children might suffer the way we did.
It’s also the only answer I want to hear.
I tilt my head up, finding his lips in the darkness. This kiss is different from the desperate, frantic ones earlier. Softer. Sweeter. A promise rather than a plea.
“We should sleep,” Max murmurs against my mouth. “Tomorrow we need to be perfect students. Can’t have dark circles giving away our sleepless nights.”
“In a minute.” I’m not ready to let go yet, not ready to face the dreams I know are waiting. Dreams of Janet Wilson’s dead eyes, of Selena’s cold voice giving orders, of my own hands covered in blood that may or may not be real.
Max seems to understand. He simply holds me, one hand stroking my hair, the other resting protectively over the invisible mark on my wrist. As if he could shield me from its meaning, from everything it represents.
Outside, the wind picks up, rattling the old window frames. The ocean crashes against the cliffs with a violence that matches the storm brewing inside me. This island has always been a prison dressed as paradise, but I never understood just how deep the bars went until now.
Selena Harpsons. The Architect. The woman who welcomed us back with open arms while planning God knows what.
My eyes drift to the smoke detector on the ceiling, to its steady blinking red light. Somewhere, she’s probably watching this footage, cataloging our vulnerabilities, noting how I cling to Max like he’s the only thing keeping me from drowning.
Let her watch. Let her see how much I love him, how far I’d go to protect him.
Because when the time comes—and it will come soon, I can feel it approaching like a storm on the horizon—she’ll learn that the girl she tried to break, to control, to mold into a perfect little victim, has teeth of her own.
And I’m done being anyone’s prey.