Page 12 of Betray Me (Devastation Game #2)

Before

My heels click against the marble floor in perfect rhythm as I stride through the corridors of Shark Bay University, my domain.

Three months of intensive training with Dominic have sharpened me into the perfect weapon—beautiful, charming, and utterly ruthless in my intelligence gathering.

The Gothic spires and shadowed hallways no longer intimidate me; they’re my hunting ground now.

They’ve been that for the last year and a half.

I’ve spent the morning in Professor Austin’s Computer Science class, carefully positioning myself as the It Girl of the school, who is intellectually engaged but not politically radical.

Jessica chatters beside me as we walk toward the East Wing, updating me on the latest campus gossip.

She’s proven invaluable as my best friend—a fount of information about our classmates’ secrets, family dynamics, and weaknesses.

Her family’s media connections make her useful, though she doesn’t know the full extent of her parents’ involvement with the network.

“Oh, and there’s supposedly a new girl arriving today,” Jessica mentions casually. “Mid-semester transfers aren’t rare here at all, but I do wonder what she did to get transferred. She must have gotten in some serious trouble.”

I file the information away while maintaining my expression of mild interest. New arrivals always require assessment—potential assets or threats to my carefully constructed position at the top of Shark Bay’s social hierarchy.

“Any idea who she is?” I ask, pulling out my encrypted phone to send a routine status update to Dominic.

“I don’t even have the full details about the scandal at her old school yet. Rich kids’ problems.” Jessica shrugs. “You know how it is.”

I do know. Rich kids’ problems in our world often involve exposing things that should stay buried or failing to perform the roles our families demand. Either way, she’ll need careful monitoring.

The afternoon passes in a blur of strategic positioning and information gathering.

I attend Nicolas Parker’s study group, where I subtly probe for details about his family’s pharmaceutical empire.

Ever since I agreed to be his girlfriend, he became more open to sharing valuable information with me.

During dinner, I charm Judge Patterson’s son into revealing his father’s gambling debts.

Every conversation is a chess move, every smile a weapon in my arsenal.

It’s only when I return to Pemberton Hall that I encounter the disruption to my perfectly ordered world. One of my school’s minions, who is desperate to please me in hopes to climb up the social ladder, is video calling me. Reluctantly, I accept the call.

I get a direct view of Leyla Clark walking toward the East Wing stairwell, her perpetual sunshine dimmed to something approaching anxiety.

She’s talking to someone I can’t see well, her voice carrying that particular strain of forced enthusiasm that suggests she’s dealing with something—or someone—difficult.

“—you’ll love it here once you get to know everyone. We’re like one big family.”

“Maybe we can skip the introductions,” a voice responds, cold enough to frost windows. “Just show me where I’m sleeping.”

I narrow my eyes at the small screen, recognition hitting me like a physical blow. That voice—I know that voice. But it’s impossible. She can’t be here.

The video moves around the corner, showing me the girl. My carefully maintained composure nearly shatters.

Luna Queen stands in front of Leyla like a dark angel of vengeance, her black hair flowing past her shoulders, emerald eyes blazing with the kind of fury that comes from being caged too long.

She’s dressed simply—a white dress that somehow looks more expensive than most people’s formal wear—but she radiates power like a live wire.

My mind races through possibilities, each more disturbing than the last. Luna Queen isn’t supposed to be here.

According to my father’s intelligence, she was being groomed for the network’s most exclusive role—the crown jewel of their entertainment division.

Her presence at Shark Bay can only mean one thing: something has gone catastrophically wrong.

“This way! The East Wing has the best views of the ocean,” Leyla chatters nervously, clearly unsettled by Luna’s glacial demeanor. “And wait until you see the common room—we just got new furniture last semester, and there’s this amazing window seat where you can watch the storms roll in…”

With growing dread, I watch them walk up three flights of stairs, the camera following them until they approach my door. Surely they’re not—

“Home sweet home!” Leyla produces a key card with a flourish. “Well, for the next year at least. I know it seems a bit old-fashioned, but—”

I hang up the call and focus on the door, waiting for Leyla to open it while the pieces fall into place with sickening clarity. The new roommate Dean Harpsons mentioned. The mid-semester transfer. The “rich girl problems” that Jessica gossiped about.

Luna Queen is my new roommate.

My mind frantically calculates damage control strategies. If Luna recognizes me, if she remembers what we both witnessed that night…

The front door swings open before I can fully process the implications.

“You must be the new girl,” I drawl from my position on the bed, forcing every muscle to remain relaxed despite the adrenaline flooding my system. “I’m Belle Gallagher.”

Luna’s emerald gaze finds mine across the room, and I hold my breath, waiting for recognition to dawn. Waiting for her to scream, to accuse, to remember the blood and the terror and the things we were forced to witness.

Instead, her eyes remain cold but blank. No flicker of familiarity. No acknowledgment of shared trauma.

“Luna Queen,” she replies, her voice giving nothing away. “But you already knew that.”

I study her face with the intensity Dominic trained into me, searching for any crack in her composure. The surveillance photographs in my father’s files never captured the predatory confidence she radiates now, the way she holds herself like someone who’s learned to bite back.

This isn’t the broken victim I expected. This is someone who’s survived the same crucible I have and emerged as a weapon.

“Of course I did,” I say, a slight smile curving my lips. Still nothing. Either her memory has been as thoroughly scrambled as mine, or she’s an even better actress than I am. “Your… departure from Ebonridge University caused quite a stir in certain circles.”

Leyla’s head swivels between us like she’s watching a tennis match. “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Not exactly,” I reply, examining my French manicure to hide my intense focus on Luna’s micro-expressions. “But everyone knows about the Queen family’s black sheep daughter. Tell me, Luna, did Daddy finally get tired of cleaning up your messes?”

It’s a calculated provocation—public enough for Leyla to hear, cutting enough to establish dominance, but vague enough to maintain plausible deniability. I need to see how she responds to direct confrontation.

“Careful, Belle. Your desperation to prove yourself relevant is showing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Did you just threaten me?”

“Take it however you like. But tell me, how does it feel knowing you’ll never actually earn anything in your life?”

It’s a cruel cut, designed to probe at my deepest insecurities. In my experience, network daughters fall into two categories: those who embrace their roles as commodities, and those who desperately try to prove their worth beyond their bodies. I need to know which type Luna is.

My posture shifts, becoming more predatory. “You might want to watch yourself, Queen. You’re not at Ebonridge anymore. Things work differently here.”

“Is that what you call a threat?” An amusement colors her tone. “How quaint.”

“More like a friendly warning. Shark Bay has a very specific pecking order, and right now, you’re at the bottom of it.” I brush a nonexistent piece of lint from my skirt as I stand. “Try not to become a problem we’ll be forced to fix.”

She laughs, sharp enough to make Leyla flinch. “Oh, sweetie. If you think your little high school power games scare me, you clearly haven’t done your research.”

The verbal sparring continues, each exchange a test of boundaries and capabilities.

But underneath my calculated provocations, I’m analyzing every detail.

The way she moves like a predator despite her apparent youth.

The calculated precision of her insults.

The complete absence of recognition when she looks at me.

Most disturbing of all is how familiar this feels—not her face or voice, but the dynamic itself. The careful dance of threat and counter-threat, the unspoken understanding that we’re both dangerous in ways ordinary people can’t comprehend.

When I’m finally done, I sweep out of the room, ignoring Leyla, who seems unsettled by the tension. I want to laugh at the absurdity. If only sweet, na?ve Leyla knew what she’d just witnessed—two weapons forged in the same hellish crucible, meeting for what might be the second time.

Because the more I replay our interaction, the more certain I become that Luna Queen has no memory of our shared trauma. Either her parents’ conditioning was more thorough than mine, or someone very skilled has selectively edited her memories.

Which raises the terrifying question: if she doesn’t remember what we witnessed that night, what else has been taken from her? And more importantly—what happens when those memories start coming back?

I retrieve my encrypted phone and compose a message to Dominic: Luna Queen has arrived at Shark Bay. No apparent recognition of previous contact. Advise on approach.

His response comes within minutes: Monitor closely. Do not engage directly without approval. Report any signs of recovered memory immediately. She’s our highest priority. Status UNSTABLE.

I stare at the phone until the screen goes dark, my mind racing through implications. Luna Queen’s presence here isn’t coincidence—it’s strategy. But whose strategy? And what role am I supposed to play in whatever game is unfolding?

Outside the East Wing’s windows, the ocean crashes against the cliffs with relentless fury. Soon, I know I’ll need to choose between the life I’ve built and the truth that’s been buried in my memories. Between the weapon I’ve become and the victim I once was.

But tonight, I have a new variable to account for. Luna Queen is here, and whether she remembers or not, her presence changes everything.

The game has just become infinitely more dangerous.