Page 116 of In Prey We Trust

“Kill the motherfucker and pick your teeth with his spine. No holding back.”

“Not a direct quote, but I get it.”

The loudspeaker crackles, and I look at the stretcher being carried out of the ring. The last match has ended; I’m up. Zhenga nods at me and I wait for the announcer to yell the intro.

“Next up, the surprise contender from Capital Prep, the bad ass bunny beating the odds, the heir who’s a hare, Deloreeeeeeeeessssss Dreeeeeeeeeeew!”

I take a deep breath and straighten again, stalking into the brightly lit ring as I eyeball the crowd. Money is exchanging hands, and the noise has risen to raucous levels. My eyes bleed red with the bunny as I notice the scads of men leering at the tiny fight outfit, and I hope they stay in their place. One of the guys will kill them and tonight, I couldn’t possibly predict which one. They’re all hopped up on pissed off punch and all it would take is someone to give them an excuse to beat the snot out of them.

Standing on my side of the caged-in ring, I wait for my opponent to be called. The crowd finally dies down a little and the speaker crackles before the voice comes on again. “And on this side of the ring, one of our frequent champions, the girl who puts the ‘fall’ in Fallon, the gore in manticore, Fallon O’Learrrryyyyyy!”

I’m sorry, she’s a what?!!

Screams and hoots fill the air as my brain scrambles to remember what the actual fuck a manticore is. Suddenly, a picture of a lion’s head with the tail of a scorpion comes into my mind. But they’re supposed to be male. WTF is this shit? I pretend to be ignoring her strut around the ring, cracking my knuckles and shaking my limbs, but I am not ready for this. This is a mythical shifter, one who’s likely been alive as long as Ren or Aubrey and has centuries of fighting experience under her belt. Not to mention she was born with a goddamn poisoned weapon on her ass—how am I going to combat that shit?

My eyes narrow as she passes by with a smirk, looking as though she’s extremely pleased to introduce me to my maker. Within seconds, my bunny bursts through the surface, half-shifting me so I have claws and fangs to flash at the cocky bitch. I hear some asshole comment on my fluffy tail, but seconds later, a crunch says someone I know just broke something important. I can’t get distracted by that, though. I have to focus only on this mythical oddity and staying alive.

Speed—the only thing that will save me is speed.

The ref calls us into the center while I adjust my starting strategy to lean on my speed and jumps to keep out of her tail range. If I can duck that nightmare, I know how to handle the lion part; it’s like fighting Coach Z and I bet she’s way better than this chick. I hold my hand up to bump fists with her, still wearing my psycho Lucille look as I back away slowly. Something in my gut twitches and before I know it, my hand flies up and I blow her a kiss.

Oh, Dolly, what the fuck are you doing?

My bunny snarls happily, and I realize she pushed that through. She wants to taunt my opponent because she’s hungry, angry, and kept in a cage since the night of the explosions at Apex. Even in the Games fights, I never let her all the way out. I remembered the severed head and the piles of mushy professor; a picture that kept me from opening the doors too wide for fear of killing someone. I don’t have that worry tonight, and I can feel her excitement buzzing in my veins like fine wine.

“You’re dead, little bunny foo-foo,” the manticore snarls in a deep voice.

“Get fucked, O’Leary,” I shoot back as I drop into a fighting stance and start circling. The gravelly laugh echoes in the ring and I’m surprised to see her shift immediately. The stinger on her tail and mouthful of lion fangs are intimidating—not gonna lie. Darting out of the way when the tail comes at me, I wink at the shifted mythical as I leap out of range.

Another stab comes too close, and she speaks, so I know she should be a damn leader of her people, not fighting in an underground hellhole. “Too bad I’m not into prey like your pathetic teachers.”

“Too bad I’m not into arthropod va-jay-jays.” Hopping around from behind, I drop onto the lion’s back, putting a tight forearm around its neck and start squeezing. “I have enough dicks to keep me busy for a couple centuries, anyway.”

The crossed pressure from my arms makes her choke and gasp, but she rears up, throwing me off by using her tail to threaten me. I fly over her head and tuck into a roll as I hit the mats. Kipping to my feet, I bounce a little to test all my limbs. Everything seems okay, so I circle again, looking for an opening. I haven’t had any opponents trash talk this much, but then, I haven’t been dodging scorpion stingers, either.

Fallon rushes forward, catching me as I pass, and knocks me flat. Her bulk is massive in this form, and I use all my strength to dodge the dangerous tail as I try to get free. I can see the malice in her eyes as spittle drips onto me from her maw and I make a face. “Gross, woman! Get control of yourself.”

Her answer is to throw her head back in a roar and I wiggle an arm free to stab her in the neck with two sharp claws, like Rufus showed me. The scent of copper fills the air as she stumbles backward. I roll away, getting up as fast as I can so I can take advantage of her pain. Running at her, I push off the ground hard with my fist curled in a video game worthy power punch that lands right between her eyes. It hurts like a motherfucker and I’ve probably broken a few bones, but it dazes the beast again.

Now’s your chance, Dolly. Aim for the belly.

Ducking as the tail flails wildly, I slide across the mat on my knees and thrust both sets of claws into her side hard. Her hide is tough, but I put enough force into my move that they sink in. Rufus told me to aim for kidneys and rip upward, but I’ll be damned if I know where the hell a lion beast’s kidneys are. I just push up as hard as I can, winging a prayer to Ares that I’ve hit something important. When bone stops me, I yank my hands free and roll away again.

“Now you’ve pissed me off,” Fallon snarls, stalking forward despite the blood dripping from her face, neck, and side. “I’m going to tear your pretty head off.”

“Just fucking give in,” I mutter as I eye her, looking for more weak spots. She’s moving damn good for someone filled with holes, but mythicals are strong and hard to kill. That much I know from Ren and Aubrey. My gaze flicks to the stands and I see worried faces looking into the ring from the front row. I can’t disappoint them; I have to be worthy of something for once.

I want it to be them.

The bunny pushes at me inside, and I know it’s time. I’m going to let her finish this bullshit. The second that decision is made, my limbs crack and stretch more, making me taller and broader. The ears on my head twitch as fur sprouts over every inch of my exposed skin and I grin around the lengthening fangs. I hate for everyone in the universe to see this, but it’s necessary. I take a deep breath as the need to hunt this bitch down and take my spoils fills me. It’s easily as dark and alluring as it was when the guys took me hunting, but much more wild. She knows we’re going to kill our enemy, and it’s making every pore in my body tingle with anticipation.

I move so quickly I barely register it, slamming into the manticore hard enough to propel both of us into the side of the ring. Fallon’s head slams into the side, her eyes filled with fear when she realizes I was fighting with one hand tied behind my back before. Claws slash over her arms as I grab her, lifting her up in the air like a wrestler and then throw her to the other side of the circle like a rag doll. The power in my rabbit is so intense right now that it’s almost like being outside of my body watching someone else stalk over to the girl on the ground wheezing around what has to be broken ribs.

Giving her a macabre smirk, I lift my large bunny foot over her chest and peer down at her. “I gave you a chance to throw this shit. Don’t blame me for doing what I have to.”

A look almost like acceptance flits over her face, but she spits at me, anyway. “Fuck off, freak.”

Stomping on her until I hear the satisfying crunch of bones over and over, I wait until she stops moving and drop to the ground, looking at the crowd before I lean down and rip her throat out. The fresh blood splashes over me, but I revel in the sensation. The animal in me is victorious and when I’m done finishing her, I push to my feet, spinning in a circle with my hands in the air. I know I have to look like a gorey mess of fur, blood, and gross, but this image will be everywhere on social media.

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