Page 3 of Stalk Me

The realization hits me like arctic water: the matching rings, her knowing smile, the way she grabbed my wrist exactly where my father would.

She’s one of them!

I shove down the emotions as quickly as they’d appeared. I’d built these walls to block my feelings, and they’ll hold, no matter how hard these people try to tear them down.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I lie. There’s more at stake here than my future. She narrows her eyes, staring hard, but whatever she sees on my face, it apparently isn’t enough to convince her that it’s just an act. Her hand loosens and she straightens her spine, a satisfied smile tugging at her red-painted lips.

“That’s what I thought.” She purses her lips and continues walking, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Being alone is truly the best way to break one’s spirit and then remodel it into an upstanding citizen.” She glances at me over her shoulder, a grim smile hovering around her lips. “We all have our roles to play, I’m afraid.”

From the sound of it, this is one game I don’t intend to lose. If I’m smart, I can play this right. I have to. Otherwise, my biggest weakness is going to pay the price. Love is a weakness I can’t afford anymore. Not here. Not ever again.

The smell of sex and expensive champagne still clings to my skin as I slip into the persona. Like a shark sensing blood in the water, I let the predator inside me rise to the surface. My smile sharpens, my posture shifts—subtle changes that transform me from prey to hunter. It’s really quite easy and fitting. My first taste of Shark Bay is exactly what I am—beautiful and toxic, pleasure twisted up with pain until you can’t tell them apart anymore.

That’s all they need to know for now. Let them see the perfect mask, the calculated movements, the carefully crafted illusion of submission. Let them think they’ve won. And when they least expect it, I’ll show them who Luna Queen really is. These sharks are in for a wild year. It’s time they find out what real predators look like.

Moving On

My heels click against the marble floor as I follow Mrs. Harpsons through the winding corridors of Shark Bay University. The stone walls loom over us, their ancient shadows harboring secrets I’m not sure I want to discover. Everything about this place screams old money and older power—from the elaborate tapestries depicting naval battles to the brass nameplates marking each classroom door. As we walk, a strange feeling settles over me, as if the building itself is watching me, waiting to see how I’ll react to the countless ways it can pry me open and expose every secret I possess. The air feels thick with centuries of whispered confessions and broken promises, each stone seeming to hold the weight of countless students who came before me, their fates sealed behind these very same walls.

One thing is clear: Mrs. Harpsons knows everything about me, starting with the fact that I’m a new student here, fresh off a semester of blending in, pretending to be normal, falling in love with Alex and telling him the truth. In other words, Mrs. Harpsons doesn’t just know who I am; she knows why I’m here. That means every moment of every day, as the president of Shark Bay University, she will be studying and judging me. She’ll eagerly wait for me to fail to punish me.

As if she senses my growing unease, Mrs. Harpsons turns to look at me. Her expression, which had been tinged with sadness, hardens. “By now, you probably understand why you’re here. Shark Bay University has a long-standing tradition of graduating students who later run some of the largest and most important corporations in the nation. Naturally, that means we must be harder on you than your old school was.”

I don’t respond. My mind goes to the photos again, Alex smiling shyly next to his friends Jack and Sarah, whose lives my parents weren’t above threatening too. I can’t stop picturing those vacant eyes, that serene smile, the life escaping him inch by inch. Alex didn’t take their threats seriously, but he doesn’t know them like I do. I’ve only told him parts of the truth, my truth, but not all of it. It’s a good thing too, otherwise, the threats wouldn’t be just that: empty threats.

Mrs. Harpsons clears her throat, oblivious to the thoughts racing through my mind. “Oddly enough, the students still manage to rebel,” she murmurs. “It’s rather intriguing, though sometimes a problem when we’re trying to control their image… and their actions.”

“A problem?” The response escapes before I can think it through. “Your families groom their children from birth and then send them here to learn how to step on anyone who gets in their way. Why else would I be here? You’ve been protecting monsters and making sure their crimes don’t touch any of you for years. If you can’t handle a few rebellious kids, maybe it’s time for you to finally retire.”

For a heartbeat, the confident façade falters, and the terror underneath rears its ugly head. All it took was a few words to threaten everything I’ve been trying to save. The silence continues for an agonizing beat, stretching out so far, I’m starting to wonder if I’m free or in worse trouble than I was before. But I don’t have anything left. This was my last hope of survival. If I can’t make this work, Alex is as good as dead.

“Your room is in the East Wing,” Mrs. Harpsons announces a moment later. There’s no hostility in her tone, nor pity. Nothing. Just cold, clinical efficiency. “Third floor, second hallway on the left. You’ll be sharing with?—”

“I don’t do roommates,” I cut her off, keeping my voice sharp enough to slice through steel. My parents may have forced me into this prison, but they can’t possibly expect me to share space with some stranger. I’m already surrounded by enemies who want nothing more than to see me crack and fail.

Mrs. Harpsons’ lips twitch. “I’m afraid that’s not up for discussion, Miss Queen. Our housing arrangements are final.”

I narrow my eyes, waiting for the slightest crack in her carefully painted expression, the smallest hint that I can find a loophole or argument, but the subtle smile stays. It’s just us, these echoing corridors, and the thick silence filling the space between us.

Before I can argue further, a blur of yellow and navy blue crashes into me from around the corner. My designer suitcase tumbles from my grip, spilling its contents across the polished floor. Luckily, the impact didn’t hurt me. Before I can complain, though, a pair of hands wraps around me. On instinct, I jerk back. I’m so out of it that even Mrs. Harpsons startles, taking a small step backward. At that moment, I know I’m going to fucking hate this place. Even Mrs. Harpsons wants to protect herself from whatever will happen if I snap.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The human tornado responsible for my scattered belongings drops to her knees, frantically gathering my clothes. Her honey-blonde ponytail bounces as she moves, and her school uniform is perfectly pressed. “I was running late for orientation and wasn’t watching where I was going and?—”

“Stop touching my things.” I snatch a silk blouse from her hands before she can stuff it back into my suitcase. “You already did enough.”

The girl freezes, then slowly raises her head. Despite my cold tone, her smile remains bright enough to power a small city. “I’m Leyla Clark,” she chirps, extending her hand. “I’m actually supposed to be your student ambassador! What are the odds, right?”

She gets to her feet, one hand curled around the straps of a backpack covered in dolphins and the other offered to me to shake. I stare at her outstretched hand until she awkwardly withdraws it. Everything about her screams “perpetual optimist”—from her eager smile to the way she bounces slightly on her toes. She’s exactly the type of person I need to avoid. Which means she’s perfect for an entrance test, to see exactly how determined I am to see this through.

“Excellent timing, Miss Clark,” Mrs. Harpsons says, checking her watch. “Please show Miss Queen to her room and help her get settled. I have other matters to attend to.” With that, she clicks away down the hall, leaving me alone with Little Miss Sunshine. She watches me as I gather the rest of my clothes, biting her lip in an unspoken question.

“Need something?” I snap.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Leyla exclaims, hefting my suitcase despite my protests. “I can show you all the best study spots, and introduce you to everyone, and?—”

“I don’t need a tour guide,” I interrupt, snatching my suitcase back. “Just point me to my room.”

“But it’s my job to help you adjust! Besides, you’ll love it here once you get to know everyone. We’re like one big family.” Her happy-go-lucky attitude puts me on edge.

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