Page 42 of Stalk Me

"It's done," Professor Austin says, pulling a small USB drive from his computer. "Everything from the last six months is on here."

I take the drive from him, clutching it like a lifeline. "Thank you."

He studies my face, concern evident in his expression. "Luna, whatever you're involved in… it seems dangerous."

A bitter laugh escapes me. "You have no idea."

"Maybe I can help?—"

"You've done enough." I cut him off, not unkindly. "The less you know, the safer you'll be." I tuck the drive securely into my bra, where no one will dare look for it. "We never had this conversation, understand? If anyone asks, I was never here."

He nods slowly. "What about the recording?"

"I won't delete it, but no one will ever see it," I promise. "Not as long as I get what I want."

Somehow, those words are the most terrifying of all. With the drive now heavy against my chest, I exit his classroom without looking back. I have the data. But what good will it do me when my problems have grown beyond any chance at containment?

What am I going to do now?

That's the question, isn't it? What can I possibly do against an organization with the resources and ruthlessness of my parents? How can I protect Erik when they've already begun planning his destruction?

The hallway outside is still empty as I slip out of the classroom, the USB drive a comforting weight against my skin. My mind races with everything I've learned, possibilities and dangers multiplying with each step I take.

They're coming for Erik. They've been watching us all along, tracking our movements, monitoring our growing connection. And now they're preparing to tear it all apart, to break him like they broke me.

But this time, I have something I didn't have before: advance warning. Information. A chance to fight back.

As I walk across campus, I feel something shift inside me. The fear and panic recede, replaced by a cold, focused rage. They think they can control me and take away anyone who matters to me, keep me trapped in their web of manipulation and threats.

They're wrong.

I'm finding ways to fight back. I'll bide my time to gather my strength. Once I do, I'll hit them strong enough so they'll never ever get up again.

I've played the perfect daughter, the obedient doll, the willing sacrifice for too long. I've let them use me, drug me, pass me around like property. But no more.

It's time to show my parents exactly what they've created—a queen who knows how to use every weapon at her disposal. A survivor who's learned from the best manipulators in the business. A predator who won't hesitate to destroy anyone who threatens what little she has left.

The USB drive pulses against my skin like a second heartbeat, full of secrets, leverage, and power. By the time I reach my dorm, a plan is already forming in my mind—dangerous and desperate, but possibly our only chance.

For the first time since coming to Shark Bay, I feel truly in control. And I'm going to use that control to burn my parents' world to the ground.

A Lesson About Disobedience

The dorm is mercifully empty when I return. Belle must still be plotting my demise with her minions somewhere, which gives me time to examine what is on the USB without worry of being caught. I lock the door and push my desk chair against it as an extra precaution. I can't risk anyone walking in on what I'm about to do

I turn on my laptop and plug in the small device, my heart beating faster as it loads. Once the folder appears on my screen, I realize just how much ammunition Professor Austin managed to get me. The USB holds nearly one terabyte of data.

My father's email archive is a digital fortress, meticulously organized into folders with names like "Business," "Personal," and "Board." But it's the one labelled "Special Projects" that draws my attention. My finger hovers over the touchpad, hesitating for just a moment. Once I click this, there's no going back. Whatever I find inside might destroy what little peace I've managed to create at Shark Bay.

But I'm already ruined. I might as well know why.

The folder opens to reveal hundreds of emails, each with cryptic subject lines and attachments bearing only numbers and dates. I scan through them, searching for anything related to Erik, to me, to Shark Bay. Most are discussions about property acquisitions, political donations, and what appears to be coded references to people I don't recognize.

Until I see it: "Re: Stone/Queen Situation: Urgent."

My fingers tremble as I double-click, the email expanding to fill the screen. It's dated just three days ago, and it was addressed to my father.

Sebastian,

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