Page 2 of Let Us Prey

Right now, there’s only one pred in the entire world who could stalk me like that without tripping my fear response. I don’t know how Fitz figured out who I was and where I live, but as soon as the tiger pounced, I knew it was him. Something deep in my gut told me he wouldn’t hurt me that night after Todd or when he appeared again outside of the club. I lost my necklace in the ring when Todd took my virginity under false pretenses, but I still don’t know how he knew it was mine and I needed it returned.

Why would he defend me? Why follow me at all?

The unanswered questions in my life are getting more complicated, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with keeping myself alive at the most cutthroat pred academy in the world, on top of my daily uncertainty.

“Nothing worth having comes easy,” I mutter to myself.

Quoting the first human president secretly to hide their shifter side is probably not as helpful as an actual plan, but I’m exhausted. I’ve been stressing about this day for weeks, and Bruno was furious despite the necklace being unharmed. The ensuing family fight lasted long into the wee hours of the morning, and I couldn’t pack my shit to get out of their house fast enough.

I might not belong here at Apex—or survive—but I sure as hell can’t hang around where I’m not wanted.

The driveway to the school comes into view, and I crank the volume, letting Joan Jett blast from my speakers as a warning:this bunny doesn’t give a damn about her bad reputation.

Like Fitz said on prom night—“Fuck ‘em.”

When Good Girls Go Bad

Delores

There were exactlyzero staff members available to drive me from the parking lot to my dorm. I watched the owl shifters in Admissions flutter and adjust their glasses, fluffing up in a way that made it easy to identify their animals as they tried to locate the inconveniently absent concierges. After waiting for over thirty minutes while they made calls, I finally excused myself to go to the restroom.

As I thought, a facilities office was just down the hall from the admin area, and now I’m standing outside, watching five literal weasels yell at a rugby game on TV while the phone rings. Seems like the directive to treat me like scum upon arrival made it as far as the lower tiers of the Apex staff, even if the kindly office ladies didn’t get the memo. I watch them for a few minutes until I notice a rack with numbered golf cart keys just inside the doorway.

Bingo was his name-o.

I snake my fingers through the crack in the door, fishing with my nails until I can grasp one set of keys. Carefully palming it in my hand, I stride down the hall, past the still fussing admin ladies, tothe side parking lot. The golf carts have numbers on the back bumper and when I see number eight, I do a little fist pump. I retrieve my Yves St. Leopard luggage set from the back of my car—covered in stickers and band logos that decrease its value to zero—and prepare myself for my foray into grand theft auto.

Okay, Dolly, you can do this.

All I have to do is lug my shit to the cart, start it up, and take off. What are they going to do—expel me?Fucking doubtful.The Council would eat the headmistress alive if she dared to contradict their stupid edict of allowing me to attend and survive on my own. Ironically, their piddly rules made me untouchable in some ways; I could set the place on fire and the administration couldn’t do more than give me detention.

Grinning to myself, I gather my bags, loading myself down like an actual pack mule. Once I find my balance, I grab the handles of the rolling suitcases and trunk and grunt my way over to the cart. I wasn’t very strong when I started at Luc’s shop, but after a summer of carrying heavy fabric rolls, restocking, and moving large boxes, I’m tighter and leaner than I was when I first set foot on this wretched campus.

Oh, and I quit letting people call me DD. That nickname reminds me of people who mocked me behind my back and ditched me the second I couldn’t further their social status.

Who the fuck makes fun of someone’s bra size, anyway?

Luc started calling me Dolly, and for the first time in my life, I felt like someone was actually seeingme.I mean, who wouldn’t like to be called the same thing as the kindest-hearted woman in human music? So I embraced it, even though the edgy Flamingoth said it wasn’t ‘hardcore’ enough. I said I wasn’t ever going to let others influence my behavior, and that includes new friends, too.

Once I load my shit in the back of the cart, I take one more fortifying breath and climb into the driver’s seat. I fire it up and lookover my shoulder to back out. It’d be nice if Todd’s or one of the Heathers’ cars were around to ‘accidentally’ back into, but alas, that’s revenge for another day. When I’m clear, I spin the wheel and floor it, careening over the hills in the grassy meadows separating the buildings.

To my left, I see the Erickson Staff Housing Complex. It looks like a chintzy little township that’s trying too hard to look ‘ye olde’ timey. That doesn’t surprise me—the Erickson patriarch is as obsessed with old-fashioned things as he is tech and women way too young for him. He probably insisted on approving every single brick and lamp in the entire place. Meanwhile, the quarters are likely substandard and bare bones because most of the money for the construction went to his idiotic vision on the exterior.

They probably installed listening devices in the rooms, too.

Clotilda helped me do more than de-spyware my phone—the skunk spent hours helping me compile dirt files on every one of my ex-friends, including Todd, his dude-bros, and their Council families. I’m not sure what I plan to do with all of it, but I know it will come in handy someday. I haven’t had the wherewithal to look into my own parents yet. It feels like a can of worms I don’t have the spoons to deal with now.

A wistful thought flutters through my mind as I watch the staff quarters go by—I wonder if my hottie professors live there? They have to, right? No one lives off campus.

The idea of the scary gargoyle bunking down in those tiny cottage style houses is kind of funny. My lips curve as I again think about the psycho tiger and his gift of Todd’s fingers. It’s nice to imagine he was looking out for me all summer, protecting me from the shadows. I wouldn’t mind him or his sexy boyfriend dropping by the dorms for a late-night offer of more… protection.

Ack. Now I’m bouncing up and down over this damn landscape, with my thighs rubbing together and my vaginathrobbing.Great job, Dolly.You’re officially a horny teenage idiot with no options outside of your box of toys and late-night visits to PredHub.

I need to play it safe here anyway—and that means keeping to myself.

The facade of the Barrington Dorms finally comes into view, and I sigh in relief, eager to get a locked door between me and the rest of the students. Skidding to an abrupt stop at the front door, I reach into my tote and pull out the welcome packet the owls in Admissions handed me before the concierge debacle. The keycard with the Apex logo glints in the sun, and I turn it over. No sign of what room it opens, which, as someone with people hunting her, I appreciate. I shuffle my paper around until I find a paper with a description of amenities in my dorm building. I peruse the information about a gym, indoor pool, common rooms, and rehearsal rooms in the underground levels until I reach a line that says ‘Gazelle 666’ and I nearly fall out of the cart.

Oh, right. Gazelle is a building and apparently, the room was handpicked for me, since the number is the sign of Satan. Just fucking great. I’ll never have anyone over living in the goddamndemonsuite.

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