Page 9 of In Prey We Trust

No wonder I’m paranoid; they’re all really out to get me.

As usual, I flip them off, trotting downstairs to the kitchen to toss together a light snack and my big ass water. Master César is a jaguar shifter, and he’s had me on a strict training plan from the second I walked into the first class, so I have to follow the rules. Oddly, this doesn’t feel like when Lucille tried forcing diets or surgery down my throat most of my life. Instead, his regimen requires a balance—as there is in all things, he says. I’m not sure how into the whole ‘Zen’ part of my training I am. However, structuring my intake to maximize my energy has helped me ward off my depression about not seeing the people I care about.

I open the fridge and pile my plate full of fruit, cheese, and the cold chicken breast bites, humming a little as I add from all the containers for variety. The other good thing about this clean living junk is not worrying about having to cook or order out a lot. César went shopping with me at the beginning of each month since the summer began. We spend entire days here creating prepared meals and snacks to last. It cut out the daily decision drag and also kept me from buying less healthy options on an extra trip to the store.

I’m probably in the best shape of my life, despite not losing a pound. Everything is toning, and it makes me look badass.

“Fitz is going to love that,” I giggle to myself when I consider how much stronger my thighs are alone. “I could probably kill someone with my legs alone if I wanted to.”

Grinning as I grab the stupidly large water bottle and my full plate, I head back to the stairs, ignoring the assholes outside my door yet again. Once inside, I kick the door closed and yell at my Alexa to engage the security. I ordered new locks and installed everything myself when I found out my parents were leaving me alone with unknown preds all summer. It might not hold forever, but it discourages them from interrupting my calls or spying on me while I sleep. Anything they do to get in without my permission will set off an alarm and I’ll at least have enough time to grab my handy knife from under my pillow.

A predatory bunny can’t be too careful, even in her own home.

“Play T. Swift mix,” I call out before climbing into my big reading chair and curling up. I’ve got five new books on my Kindle, delicious food, and hours before anyone will look for me. If there’s any upside to this confinement, it’s definitely having an infinite amount of time to catch up on my favorite books and write songs.

If only my guys were here to snuggle in with me…

“Holy shit!”

What sounds like something hitting the window by my chair wakes me from an unexpected nap and I blink in the dark. My Kindle is asleep, too, and the program that dims my lights at dusk did its job—despite me nodding off like a senior citizen well before dinnertime. It’s definitely after eight p.m. and by the look of the landscape, it’s probably closer to ten. I didn’t even feel sleepy when I sat down, but I’m usually wiped the day after my lessons. They’re designed to push me as far as possible without injury in the shortest time possible, so I’m barely hobbling home by the time César lets me leave.

My night vision isn’t great, but when the object hits my window again, I know I didn’t imagine it. Dropping to my knees to keep out of sight, I growl softly. There’s a rotating guard crew outside at night, so whatever the hell they’re doing, it’s not their fucking job. I have to stay out of its sight line to make certain the damn thuds weren’t a ploy to get me to give someone a better target. Crawling to my bed, I reach up with one hand, grasping both the knife and my damn phone before I head back to my chair.

Everyone is too far away in the capital. If this is dangerous, I’ll have to defend myself until help arrives.

“It’d be super fucking cool if people would stop trying to kill me this year,” I mumble as I click my phone screen open with the encrypted passcode. When I look at the open screen, the adrenaline coursing through me slows a bit. “Is he serious? What the hell is he thinking?”

TigerWoody: Baby Girl!

TigerWoody: Baby Girl!

TigerWoody: Baby Girl!

TigerWoody: Baby Girl!

TigerWoody: Baby Girl!

TigerWoody: Baby Girl, answer me, goddamnit! I’m outside your window and I don’t have much time before those asswads wake up!

The noise that made me think a fricking assassin was trying to get into my bedroom while I was snoozing is my crazy ass boyfriend. The same crazy ass boyfriend who should be six hours away right now.

Another glance at my phone shows a big red dot with twelve messages on another chat, and I sigh as I look at it.

CSpot: Has anyone seen Fitz? He sort of disappeared after we called my angel this morning.

TigerKing: Don’t worry. He probably just went to blow off steam at the gym or something.

CSpot: He was acting really weird.

TigerKing: How the hell could you tell?

CSpot: Felix, it’s been two hours. Is he answering you?

TigerKing: No. Renard? Aubrey?

CSpot: They’ve been MIA, too. What is going on?

LustyLibrarian: Calm down, Chester. We’re cleaning up a mess in the main room.

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