Page 100 of In Prey We Trust

“I sincerely doubt that. The information I have is that you were a virgin until the boy you thought was your mate deflowered you, then tried to eat you when you emerged as a rabbit. The trauma from that alone would cause serious sexual dysfunction, not to mention emotional issues. Those who chose polyamorous groups have complex dynamics to navigate, even when the people involved aren’t abusing their authority and the many years of experience they have on you.”

Closing my eyes, I push the red rage of my bunny back as she suggests I’m unstable. Rockland often pushes me this way, just hoping I’ll lose my temper and she’ll be able to discredit my claims. Unfortunately for her, I have a lifetime of hiding my emotions from a bigger psychopath than her. So I slip into the blank space, letting my features go slack with indifference. “I’m not crazy, nor do I have dysfunction. My sex life is fabulous and still none of your damn business.”

“I see. You seem very sure those men won’t get bored with an inexperienced shifter. In fact, you act as though they’ll be around to stand by you forever,” she comments. “That’s an awfully naïve expectation for someone with your… shortcomings. Novelty wears off, Miss Drew. You need to be healthy enough to stand on your own.”

I look up from my nails, arching a brow lazily. “I think the Games are proving I’m capable of exactly that.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Being able to beat lower preds in a supervised match is not the same as surviving on your own. Your victory was followed by a draw, I believe. Obviously, when the opponent is worthy, you aren’t able to prevail.”

“My opponent was a ringer pumped full of PEDs, you nitwit,” I shoot back. My temper fires again and I have to rein it in, leaning back in my chair again. “Otherwise, the fight would have been a fair pairing. Fighting someone who has been fed speed and enhancers to a draw is the best outcome that was possible.”

“Perhaps,” she murmurs. “Or perhaps that’s just the latest in your line of excuses for your failures. You always seem to point the finger at other preds, even those who are your betters. Why is that, Delores?”

Here we go. She’s digging for what I know.

“Probably because my emotionally challenged ex-friends are obsessed with their vendetta and people are being kidnapped and murdered at my schools. It sort of feels like the old saying about being paranoid, not meaning people aren’t out to get you. The guy was pretty insightful for a human, don’t you think?”

“This level of paranoia isn’t a colorful quote, Miss Drew. It indicates several mental disorders and I’m merely trying to—”

“Get me to admit I’m crazy? Good luck.” I roll my eyes and sigh before I continue. These sessions get worse every time and my patience is shot. “I’d have to be wrong for that to hold water. I have solid proof and witnesses to show the Heathers have stalked, harassed, bullied and abused me for two years now. I don’t use it because I don’t need to—they simply aren’t smart enough to beat me. And as for the kidnapping and murders? There was a dead body on campus mere weeks ago. The missing students from last year haven’t turned up, nor have the ones Cappie is trying to hide the disappearances of from our first week. I’m not imagining anything.”

Her eyes widen when I drop the bomb about the students who didn’t show up when school started. Fitz turned it up in one of his ‘sneaky missions’ to the admin building and I’ve been saving it for the right moment. Rockland recovers quickly, though, and shakes her shoulders like she’s trying to unruffle feathers. “I don’t know where you got that information, Delores, but it’s private. I won’t discuss other students’ statuses with you.”

“Mmmm,” I reply as I smirk. “I didn’t expect you to. I just wanted you to know I won’t fall into your trap.”

“We’ll see about that,” she says as she straightens in her chair. “Now let’s discuss what happened the night of your prom.”

Renegades

Felix

Exams are finally over and the last big event this week is the Pred Games match tonight. The Princess is exhausted from all the studying and practices, but the Games wait for no shifter. Matches are scheduled by the Leonidas pride based on some ridiculous formula devised years ago and until we found their hidey-hole at Apex, I wondered if it was susceptible to bribery like everything else in our world. As I thought, it is, which I think is why we have a match the weekend after exams.

No sane league president would place games during midterms for any school, but no surprise we’re up against Shifter U during ours.

Shifter U is the public university for preds. It has a sister school more commonly called ‘Victim U’ where prey who don’t have means attend. Matches between the public school and the private ones are the ugliest, dirtiest ones of the season and frequently end in ambulances speeding away from the school hosting. The prey animals should be the angriest of our society, but they aren’t. They have their own ecosystem and hierarchies within their species.

The most bitter families sit between the highest prey tiers and the lowest pred tiers. They’re barely able to stay above the wealthy prey by their pred status, but they’re also looked down upon by the elite preds. It doesn’t matter if it’s because of money or specific species limitations—they hate both sides and often stir up the most trouble. Of course, humans are below all shifters, but unless the need arises, most shifters keep the hell away from them. Preds might not be perfect, but the sheer lunacy of humans has made it an unwritten rule to stay as far away from them as possible. It’s not illegal to interact, of course, but it definitely is to reveal our nature or attempt to ‘turn’ one.

That shit is a myth, and it’s straight up murder, but some idiots try it, anyway.

Resting my chin on my clasped hands, I look at the list of female opponents Zhenga slipped me. None of the names are familiar, which isn’t surprising, but their stats are slightly concerning. According to the roster, none of the Shifter U are apex preds and they don’t have impressive win-loss ratios. They seem to be newcomers to the Games with little records except the past three league matches. Conversely, the male team has a couple preds who might get recruited for a scholarship to one of the private schools if they perform this well for the rest of the year.

“Awfully suspicious if you ask me,” I mutter as I click my mouse and start a Prednet search. Fitz installed a more intensive search function based on his… shit, some fucking computer code thing he described in great detail that I’ve now forgotten entirely. Regardless, he swore it would help me find things regular engines couldn’t, so I’m going to use it. I type in ‘Erica Krandall’ and hit the button to start the web crawler.

Beyond her public stats for the Shifter U team, I find absolutely nothing—not even on social media. Frowning, I plug in the next ten names one by one, running the same parameters and come up short each time. This can’t be a coincidence, though I’m unsure whether it is our crop of enemies or if it’s simply the coach at Shifter pulling a fast one. Before we found the evidence on Z’s brother, I would have been dead certain it was someone looking to fuck with my Princess.

Now, I don’t know, and it pisses me off.

Dolly is in the library archives with Chess, Aubrey, and Renard, so it will be safe to corral Fitz into doing something risky. He won’t want D to go into a fix blind, either, so I know he’ll break the fucking internet to find what we need. Swiping to open my phone, I shoot him a text and settle in to wait. We have to find out what these idiots are hiding before the match tonight and I don’t care who I have to squeeze to do it.

“This is fucking crazy, bro,” Fitz says as he types on the keyboard so fast his fingers are like blurs. “Like who the hell puts this kind of security up in a public college? There’s fuck-all to steal and no one here is important enough to warrant the money it would take to have someone build this shit.”

Rubbing my hand over my face, I sigh, gathering my patience. Fitz was eager to help as predicted, but his worry about our girl has made him manic. I’m trying to summon the wherewithal to deal with him without shouting, but it’s difficult. “This isn’t something that the Ericksons could have purchased or donated?”

“Fuck no,” my twin says indignantly. “This isn’t prepackaged garbage. Someone hand coded this, and they did it with the Erickson tech limitations in mind. Like, it’s designed to keep those kinds of user out because it’s not rooted in their operating system.”

I understood about every other word of that.

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