Page 5
Don’t Mess with the Crazy
M acbeth’s blood-soaked ambition stares back at me from the yellowed pages, a fictional mirror to the real power games playing out in Shark Bay’s hallowed halls. Professor Bennett’s voice echoes throughout the vaulted ceiling of the Advanced Literature classroom, her academic dissection of moral corruption oddly fitting for this pretentious prison disguised as education. The afternoon light fractures through stained glass, painting the students in unnatural hues of crimson and violet—as if we needed visual confirmation that nothing here is as it seems. Power and corruption aren’t just themes in some dusty play; they’re the oxygen these privileged sharks breathe.
“A crown is worth nothing if you lose yourself obtaining it,” she says, fixing her ponytail. “Macbeth’s ambition consumes him until there’s nothing left but the hollow shell of who he used to be.” Her words echo in my mind, a warning I can’t afford to ignore. I’ve already lost so much of myself—my freedom, my innocence. How much more will I have to sacrifice before I’m the one holding the crown?
Sounds familiar. I try to ignore the sickening twist in my stomach, the creeping panic behind the numbness. Despite the school’s seemingly endless array of course options, the one thing I have yet to find is a class that meets my needs. Of course I’d get stuck with Professor Bennett for advanced literature, a woman clearly desperate to prove her worth. Her endless attempts at preaching through fictional characters are uninspired, but her misguided ideals still hit too close to home.
And what can I say? In her assessment of the main character, she’s not entirely wrong. Her explanation of the tragic fall of humanity at the hands of people craving power cuts deeper than expected. Because Macbeth—he’s me, or at least what I’ll become if I’m not careful.
Because we’re all just pawns, caught in the machine with no escape. Desperation’s a hell of a drug, and having status, a name, means everything in this world. Everyone wants a piece of it, and people will do anything to have their way, even if it means crossing lines.
I bite back a bitter laugh. If only the professor knew how familiar that particular lesson feels. After Belle’s little stunt in computer science this morning, the whispers have only grown louder. Every conversation stops when I walk by, replaced by meaningful looks and poorly hidden smirks. But they don’t understand—I’ve been playing this game my whole life. Does Belle think she can break me with a sex tape? Amateur move. If she wants a war, I’m more than happy to oblige. No one messes with the crazy.
She doesn’t have a clue what I’m capable of. No one really does.
“Would anyone care to discuss Lady Macbeth’s role in her husband’s downfall?” Professor Bennett asks, her eyes scanning the room. “How does her manipulation contribute to the tragedy?”
“She gives him permission to embrace his darkest desires,” a familiar deep voice answers from my far left. “She makes him believe that cruelty is strength.”
I turn to find Erik Stone watching me, those unsettling gray eyes seeming to look straight through my carefully constructed walls. Somehow, he makes even the stuffy blazer and tie look effortlessly cool. His lips quirk up in a knowing smile as our eyes meet. Flutters erupt in my belly, and I turn away, unable to hold his intense gaze.
“Excellent observation, Mr. Stone,” Professor Bennett nods approvingly. “And what do you think drives Lady Macbeth to such extremes?”
“Fear,” I cut in before Erik can respond. “She’s terrified of being powerless, so she seizes control any way she can. Better to be the villain than the victim.”
The words come out sharper than I intended, filling the air between Erik and me with unspoken weight. His expression shifts subtly—there’s no pity in his gaze, but something deeper, more dangerous. Understanding. “Everyone’s a monster to someone else,” he murmurs, his voice low.
I’ve underestimated him. Despite his appearance, he’s not nearly as shallow as I thought. What exactly does he see when he looks at me?
“An interesting interpretation, Miss Queen. Stone.” Professor Bennett makes a mark on her paper. “Though perhaps a bit cynical?”
I shrug, keeping my face carefully blank. “The play’s a tragedy, not a fairy tale. Nobody gets a happy ending.”
“I suppose there’s truth to that.” Professor Bennett nods, frowning. “But wouldn’t you say Lady Macbeth loses herself along the way, sacrificing her integrity for power? And is Macbeth’s eventual remorse enough to redeem him?”
A few rows ahead, Belle turns to whisper something to her friend Jessica, both of them giggling behind their hands. The sound grates against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I’ve spent the day pretending their childish attempts at humiliation don’t affect me, but my patience is wearing thin. There’s only so long you can poke a shark before it bites back.
I open my mouth to reply, but before I can speak, Erik cuts in again, his voice calm and even.
“I wouldn’t give either of them absolution so easily,” he says, his tone casual but his gaze focused on mine. “They’re both ruled by fear. I guess there’s a lesson there. Sometimes, monsters are better left hungry. Or maybe, sometimes, the villain gets exactly what they deserve.”
I study him from the corner of my eye, trying to decode the challenge in his tone. Unlike the others, he hadn’t reacted to Belle’s video with either disgust or amusement. If anything, he seemed angry on my behalf. It’s… unsettling. I’m not used to people defending me without wanting something in return.
“And what do you think I deserve?” I whisper back, letting a hint of seduction creep into my voice. It’s a reflex at this point—use their attraction before they can use my vulnerability.
Something like frustration flashes across his handsome features before he schools his expression into an infuriatingly playful smile. “Right now? A headache.” He leans forward, that intense stare fixed firmly on me. “I think you’re asking the wrong question. The real question is: What do you want?”
The words hit too close to home. What do I want? To be free of my parents’ control. To know Alex is safe. To stop feeling like I’m drowning every time I let myself remember his touch. But those are dangerous thoughts, wishes I can’t afford to voice. That path leads only to a cliff with jagged rocks below.
Instead, I turn back to my book, tracing the familiar words with one finger. “What I want doesn’t matter. We all have our roles to play.”
“Maybe,” Erik concedes. “But who says you have to play the role chosen for you?”
That’s where he’s wrong. We don’t have choices here. Who would dare go against the expectations of their parents and their employers, when even simple whispers in the wrong direction can cost someone everything? As much as I hate to admit it, this place is part jail, part sanctuary. Sharks will always need a safe environment to weather out the tempests.
Before I can respond, Belle’s voice cuts through the classroom. “Professor Bennett? I think Luna might have some unique insights about manipulation and moral corruption. She seems to have plenty of… hands-on experience.” Her tone is dripping with mockery, and the class erupts in stifled laughter. I can feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to crumble. But I won’t give them the satisfaction.
Whispers break out like wildfire through the rest of the class. Professor Bennett purses her lips. The humiliation of this morning resurfaces, hot and embarrassing, I refuse to feel ashamed, though. My sexuality is no one’s business.
Before the professor can intervene, I’m already on my feet. The chair scrapes against the floor with a harsh screech as I gather my books. I can feel their judgmental gazes. I can feel the disdain seeping into every nook of the classroom, as palpable as the prying eyes of my so-called peers.
“You know what, Belle? You’re right.” My voice carries clearly across the sudden silence. “I do have experience. Which means I know exactly how this story ends. Keep pushing, and you’ll find out just how dark things can get.”
Her eyes widen, then narrow. It’s amazing to see the wheels turn in her head, watching the confusion pass through her, waiting to see what she’ll do. Any moment now, I’m expecting her to challenge me. Maybe yell, hit me, or even embarrass me on social media with more false facts about me, which is nothing but drama for drama’s sake.
“Every beauty has its beast. Unfortunately, I’m yours, and I’m coming for you with all my untamed power,” I say, then stalk toward the door, but pause long enough to meet her wide eyes again. “Lady Macbeth was an amateur compared to me.”
I can see her calculating the next move. Whether she’s weighing my words or fearing my retaliation, I’m not sure. I’ve made a move, and I’ll make another one. There’s no way I’ll let her dominate me in any way.
Professor Bennett purses her lips, her gaze flickering between Belle and me. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. She’s also a pawn in this system, bound by the same rules that govern us all. Still, her next words are sharp, a reminder that she holds the power here. “Miss Queen, we don’t condone disruptions of this sort. Return to your place. Now.”
I smirk. “Or what?” I step closer, closing the distance between us. “What. Will. You. Do?” Her jaw tightens, and I can see the conflict in her eyes—part frustration, part resignation. She knows she can’t afford to show weakness, not in front of the class.
Professor Bennet narrows her eyes; a corner of her mouth twitches. She lowers her voice so only I can hear. “Maybe another message from your parents is in order.”
Bitch. A shot straight to my gut, and we’ve not even known each other for a day. I force a smile, my teeth grinding together. Blood freezes in my veins as a chill runs down my spine.
“Return to your seat,” she repeats, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Now.”
Glaring daggers at her, I oblige and return back to my chair. I meet Erik’s gray gaze. He offers a wicked smile.
“Just a heads-up—don’t push the staff too far,” Erik whispers. “They’re ruthless when crossed, and they have plenty of experience dealing with spoiled brats and privileged assholes.”
“I can handle myself,” I grit out, facing forward. Still, I’m unnerved by his warning. Shark Bay University is a world of its own, and I know that for most, threats work differently here. Fucking Belle.
Biting my lip, I try not to let my worry show, but Belle must sense it because when class is over, her satisfied laughter fills the air as she flounces out the door, her friends trailing behind. For a moment, I feel the weight of it all pressing down on me. I want to scream, to tear down the walls of this suffocating world and breathe freely for once. But I can’t. Not yet, not ever. I have to be stronger than this. I have to be stronger than her.
Erik catches my eye and tilts his head toward the door, a subtle invitation, but I shake my head, not wanting to give Belle the satisfaction of seeing us together. Still, I can’t help but wonder what his game is. Why is he so interested in me? Is it just curiosity, or does he see me as a potential ally—or a threat? His gray eyes hold secrets I can’t quite decipher, and it’s both infuriating and intriguing.
Showing no hint of concern, I follow after Belle, keeping a semblance of distance. I watch as she smiles when Nicolas comes from around the corner. She lights up when he bends his neck to kiss her. I suppress the urge to vomit when their mouths lock or when he drags his lips down her skin, stopping at the sweet spot at her collarbone.
My hands clench into fists at my sides, anger and humiliation from the classroom still burning hot in my veins. Belle thinks she’s won this round, putting me in my place in front of everyone. But watching her with Nicolas, an idea begins to take shape—a dangerous, delicious idea.
She smiles again, a wide Cheshire-like grin, as she runs her fingers through his well-kept golden hair. Her sharp blue eyes clash with mine for a fraction of a second, her power now flexing like a satisfied cat ready to devour her prey.
The corridor suddenly feels charged with possibility. Every relationship has its weak points, every perfect couple their secrets. And Nicolas… Well, he looks like someone who isn’t against having a little fun.
In retaliation, I let my gaze wash over him as though I’m curious. Maybe I am. Maybe, I’ve just found a way to bring Belle down a notch. This may very well be the opening I’ve been waiting for to take the first bite.