Page 5 of Stalk Me

Leyla scurries from the room, her eyes still glazed over. Only when she’s gone does the guilt sink in. Part of me wants to run after her, to apologize or explain, but I can’t give in now. My first glimpse of Shark Bay has proven I’ll be surrounded by people who’d enjoy watching me die just as much as they enjoy pretending to be saviors, and I have to be ready.

I sink onto my bed, letting out a shaky breath. The mattress is too soft, and the room is too quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs. Everything about this place feels wrong. There are too many secrets lurking behind those stone walls, and just one false move could lead to ruin, for me, and worse, for Alex.

I pull out my phone, fighting the urge to check for messages I know won’t be there. Alex’s number is probably already disconnected—my parents would’ve made sure of that. Still, my fingers hover over the keyboard, muscle memory wanting to type out the words I can never send: I’m sorry. I miss you. I did it to protect you. And most importantly, please be okay. The words feel hollow now, meaningless against the magnitude of what I’ve done. Each letter would be another betrayal, another crack in the careful wall I’ve built between us. Because the truth is, the moment I chose to leave, I gave up the right to miss him, to worry about him, to love him. My concern is just another weapon that could be used against him, and I won’t—can’t—give them any more ammunition.

The longer I stare at the empty message box, the stronger the pressure becomes. It builds and builds until there’s nothing left but a muted sort of dread, cold and suffocating. I don’t have the right to miss him, to hope, to act like any of this is even remotely my fault. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been lying to him since the day we met, doesn’t matter that his life is in danger, hurt because of me. I’m used to this world and its constant shittiness, but he isn’t. He doesn’t understand that doing the right thing isn’t an option here, not in the real world, not for someone like me. It was a risk bringing him in, but I thought I could protect him. I thought, if I played by their rules, stayed hidden, did what they said…

A notification pops up—an email from an unknown address. My heart stops when I open it. Inside is a single photo: Alex walking across a familiar Ebonridge’s college campus, backpack slung over one shoulder. The timestamp shows it was taken yesterday.

The message below contains just four words: Remember why you’re here.

I delete the email with trembling fingers, but the image is already burned into my brain. They’re watching him, just like they promised. One wrong move from me, and… I force the thought away. This is my life now, and I have to accept it. The rest of the world will bend around me, or I’ll break until there’s nothing left. The choice is mine, and either way, it isn’t one I really have.

A knock at the door makes me jump. “Luna?” Leyla’s voice calls through the wood. “We have a floor meeting in five minutes. Everyone’s required to attend…”

I close my eyes, forcing down the panic threatening to overwhelm me. I can do this. I can play their game, be the perfect student they want me to be. I can survive this place. Anything less isn’t an option, not after what I’ve done. With a final glance around the bare, unfamiliar room, I open my suitcase and take out the uniform. I ignore how constricting the navy jacket is, how wrinkled the white button-down shirt is. Instead, I hold my head high as I walk to the door, pulling on the façade I’ve worn so many times. My mask is perfect—cold and untouchable, exactly what they expect from Luna Queen. Time to keep up appearances.

Leyla hovers outside my room, an eager grin plastered on her face. She seems nice, but I’ve dealt with enough fakeness in my life to recognize it for what it is. I’m ready to face whatever fresh hell this school has in store for me.

After all, I’m a shark too. But not the mindless predator they expect—something far more dangerous. While they circle in their familiar waters, content in their supremacy, I’ll be the shadow they never see coming. Because real sharks don’t just swim—they evolve, adapt, and survive. And I’ve had years of practice playing dead while planning my next move.

Remnants of the Past

The video plays on repeat in my mind. Alex walking across campus, completely unaware of the camera tracking his movements. His shoulders are hunched against the autumn wind, and even through the grainy footage, I can see the shadows under his eyes. He looks thinner than when I left him.

I’ve watched the video seventeen times since my parents sent it an hour ago. Each viewing feels like another knife twisting in my chest, but I can’t stop. The timestamp shows it was taken today—further proof that their threats aren’t empty. Keeping an eye on him, just like they promised. Keeping him safe while making sure I stay in line. No matter how angry I am, how hard I’m trying to prove myself, this place will never allow me to forget why I’m here. One mistake could cost Alex everything.

My thumb hovers over the replay icon. Just one more time, and then I’ll stop torturing myself. When the video starts again, I mute it.

The knock on my door startles me so badly I nearly drop my phone. “Luna?” Belle’s voice drips with fake concern. “The girls are having a little welcome gathering downstairs. You should join us.”

I delete the video with trembling fingers, even though I know it won’t matter. They’ll just send more. “Not interested.”

“Come on,” she insists. “It’ll be fun. Unless you’re scared?”

The challenge in her voice makes my teeth clench. I know exactly what she’s doing—trying to bait me into showing up so she can humiliate me somehow. But right now, the thought of sitting alone in this room with nothing but that video playing in my head seems worse than whatever petty game Belle has planned. I catch a glance at my reflection in the window, looking at the hollow eyes, the unsmiling mouth. If they see me like this, they’ll think they’ve already won.

“Give me five minutes,” I call back, already reaching for my makeup bag. If Belle wants to play, I’ll give her a show she won’t forget.

Belle waits in the hall while I get ready. She runs her fingers through her blonde waves, an uncharacteristic flicker of hesitation in her eyes. I tug at the hem of the navy and gold school blazer that belongs to someone else’s body, to a girl who took what she was given and never fought back. I was the perfect daughter and dutiful heir to an empire built on pain and suffering until it all fell apart around me, and the thing I’d always known, that my parents weren’t normal people, suddenly wasn’t something I could tolerate any longer. That was the beginning of the end.

And now? Now there’s no telling when the end will come.

“Ready?” Belle asks. Her brow arches elegantly. From the expression on her face, I must look like shit. Not that she’s surprised. She knows exactly who my parents are and that my acceptance on their terms means I haven’t had an easy few months.

I check the mirror one last time. The eye makeup looks too severe without the rest of my armor to match. I fix my red lipstick and follow Belle down the spiral staircase. I didn’t bring much with me, so the dorm is surprisingly bare. A twin bed covered with a cozy navy and gold comforter takes up most of the space, and the stone walls make me feel caged in. I’ve slept in worse places, of course—from locked basements to beds covered with all sorts of bodily fluids—neither one of them was by choice.

The party’s being held in one of the common rooms, but the noise coming from down the hall tells me everyone’s migrated to the boys’ wing. Apparently, even under constant supervision, Shark Bay’s naughty, rich kids know how to bend the rules and avoid getting caught. I follow the sound of music and laughter, letting my hips sway with each step. The uniform skirt I still haven’t changed out of hits mid-thigh, and I’ve left the top three buttons of my shirt undone. Let them look. Let them want. It’s all they’ll ever get.

The door to room 512 stands open, music and colored lights spilling into the hallway. Inside, about twenty students are crowded into the space, drinking from red cups and pretending they’re at a real college party instead of playing dress-up in their expensive prison. The air is thick with designer perfume and desperation, everyone trying so hard to prove they’re having the time of their lives. But I recognize the hollow look behind their perfect smiles—we’re all prisoners here, some of us just wear our chains better than others. Belle moves to hold court near the window, surrounding herself by her usual admirers.

“Luna!” Leyla appears at my elbow, practically vibrating with excitement. “You came! Here, let me introduce you to everyone?—”

“I can handle it myself.” I brush past her, heading straight for the drinks. A boy I vaguely recognize from orientation is playing bartender, mixing vodka with various sodas. His eyes widen as I approach.

“Hey, Luna,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “What can I make you?”

“Vodka and lemonade. As strong as you can get it.” He hands me a red plastic cup full of expensive booze. I drink greedily. It’s not my favorite, and it doesn’t taste familiar, so I take another large sip, letting it burn all the way down.

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