Page 28 of Stalk Me

"No shit." I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. "Daddy's special cocktail. Can't disappoint the guests, after all."

Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed quickly by something darker. "The party. Your parents?—"

"Don't." I cut him off before he can voice what we both know happened. "Just… don't."

For a long moment, he's silent. Then, carefully, he shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over my shoulders. The fabric smells like him—clean laundry and something spicy I can't quite name. It should make me feel trapped, but instead, it grounds me, giving me something to focus on besides the chaos in my head.

"Let me help you back to your room," he says quietly. "You shouldn't be alone right now. Or with Belle of all people."

I want to refuse, to push him away like I do everyone else. But the grogginess I feel makes me honest in ways I can't afford to be. "I'm always alone."

His hand finds mine, warm and steady. "Not anymore."

I let him pull me to my feet, swaying slightly as the world refuses to stay still. Erik keeps a careful distance as we walk, close enough to catch me if I fall but not so close that I feel trapped. The halls are mercifully empty—everyone must be in class.

By the time we reach my room, the edges of panic have started to recede, leaving exhaustion in their wake. Erik helps me to my bed, then steps back, giving me space to breathe. I clutch his blazer tighter around my shoulders, inhaling the scent of safety it represents.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words foreign on my tongue. When was the last time I genuinely thanked someone? When was the last time anyone deserved it?

He studies me for a long moment, those storm-gray eyes seeing too much. "You don't have to tell me what happened. But if you want to talk?—"

"I can't." The words catch in my throat. "They'll hurt you too. Just like they're threatening to hurt Alex, just like they—" I clamp my mouth shut, horrified at how much I've already revealed.

"Luna." Erik kneels in front of me, careful not to touch. "Whatever your parents did, whatever they're threatening you with—you don't have to face it alone."

For a moment, I'm tempted. My fingers twist in the fabric of his blazer, seeking an anchor in the storm of my thoughts. The scent of his cologne mingles with laundry detergent, so different from the cloying sweetness of the party perfumes that still haunt my dreams. Erik's presence is steady, like the lighthouse that guides ships through Shark Bay's treacherous waters. But I've seen too many ships crash against those rocks, too many people destroyed by my parents' games. The words press against my teeth, begging to be released. How easy it would be to tell him everything—about the parties, the threats, the way my parents use people like chess pieces in their twisted games. But I can't. The moment I let someone in is the moment they become a target.

"You should go." I turn away, pulling my knees to my chest. "I'm fine now."

"You're not fine." His voice is gentle but firm. "And that's okay. You don't have to be fine all the time."

Something inside me cracks at his words. A sob builds in my chest, but I swallow it down. I can't afford to break, not here, not now. "Please," I whisper. "Just go."

He stands slowly, and for a terrifying moment, I think he's going to argue. But then he simply nods. "I'll give you space, but I'll be right here if you need me."

He sits on the floor, leaning against the door, giving me enough space to be alone with the ghost of his kindness and the lingering effects of my father's drugs. I press my face into Erik's blazer. Tears threaten, but I refuse to let them fall. Crying means feeling, and feeling means remembering. And the thought of what I did at that party, what I allowed to happen—it's enough to send a single tear trickling down my cheek.

I push it all away, and instead, I focus on the steady beat of my heart, counting each pulse until the world stops spinning. One beat for each secret I have to keep. One beat for each person I've pushed away. One beat for every time I've had to choose survival over humanity.

And on this poisonous paradise, surrounded by monsters and ghosts, surviving is the only path I've ever known.

Tomorrow, I'll go back to being Luna Queen—the ice queen, the manipulator, the girl who uses sex as a weapon. I'll find a way to hurt Belle for messing with me, to remind everyone that I'm not someone to be pitied or used. But right now, wrapped in Erik's blazer with the ghost of his kindness lingering in the air, I let myself be broken.

Because sometimes, breaking is the only way to stay whole.

The drugs eventually pull me under, dragging me into dreams filled with phantom touches and whispered threats. But even in sleep, I can feel Erik's presence by my door—a silent guardian against the monsters that live inside my head.

When I wake hours later, his blazer is still around my shoulders, but the boy himself is gone. In his place is a note written in precise handwriting: "You're stronger than they are. And you're not alone."

I crumple the paper in my fist, torn between wanting to believe him and knowing better. Because that's the thing about monsters—they don't just live in nightmares or lurk in dark corners. Sometimes they wear designer suits and call themselves family. Sometimes, they host parties where the price of admission is your soul. Sometimes, they dress like angels and spit poison.

But as long as I'm living under their rule, I can't afford to forget they're monsters nonetheless.

And sometimes, the scariest monster of all is the one staring back at you in the mirror, wearing your face and speaking with your voice, but empty of everything that once made you human.

We're all monsters here.

I stand on shaky legs and make my way to the bathroom. The girl in the mirror is a stranger—hollow eyes, smudged makeup, bruises blooming beneath her uniform collar. She looks like a ghost, a shadow of the person she used to be. But ghosts can't hurt you. Ghosts can't feel pain.

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