Page 40 of Let Us Prey

That’s what happens when you allow children to believe they aren’t replaceable. They grow up and think they may breathe the air on this planet without you allowing it.

“You’d better not, Shirdal. Your family won’t mind if you went permanently missing, and a new headmaster or mistress won’t be hard to find. Killing you wouldn’t make a blip on my schedule; remember that,” I purr, sipping my martini slowly while she digests that statement. “Now, take notes. This is what I need from you.”

I can hear her clicking away at a keyboard as I list the internal documents I want copied and sent via foot messenger. Given the prevalence of hackers, I trust nothing important to be transmitted electronically; even Erickson does most of his personal business on specially manufactured flash paper, like an old school bookie. If the Council’s own tech mogul knows there’s a threat, I will not question the methods.

Waiting for the idiot to catch up, I stress I want every single professor and adjunct’s personnel file, plus every map and blueprint, dating back to before they created the Apex app. The class schedules of every student in her classes will allow me to know not only where my dimwit is at all times, but who she may associate with—especially which staff will lay eyes on her.

Once I have all of this data, I can compile a dossier of her life at the school. Delores may not be useful as an heir, but until some lucky predator gets their claws into her, I can use her as bait—a means to an end. That’s what all the weaklings around me are, and I’ll be damned if I ignore one of the most easily manipulated students on campus, simply because she embarrassed me.

That wouldn’t be strategic, and I’m not arrogant enough to ignore the opportunity.

“Henrietta, I want every single scrap of information or gossip you can find. Talk to those twits in your admissions office, scare the prey staff into spilling things they’ve seen, and get me answers—preferably immediately. I won’t tolerate a second failure. Do you understand? Get. Me. What. I. Want.”

The eagle shifter vomits apologies, praise, and fealty for another few moments, until I finally grow tired of the noise. I don’t bother with the niceties. I simply hang up the call and pitch my phone over my shoulder. A muffled squeak of pain makes my fangs grow, and I lean back on the chaise, closing my eyes in satisfaction as I sip my drink again.

I probably should keep my feathered dipshit of an assistant. She makes an excellent martini, and an even better target.

Hmmm.

Start A War

Felix

This isthe day I’ve been dreading for the past week.

Apex requires me to put the students in the ring to test their base fighting skill set and control over their shifts, so that I can develop my plans for all incoming freshmen accordingly. Henrietta implemented that rule shortly after I arrived because I started my lessons with Bloodstone style free-for-alls.

Unfortunately, these pampered fools couldn’t hack it and it flooded the infirmary with near fatal injuries. My hand got slapped and the ‘Khan test’ was born. I despise having to coddle my students almost as much as I do having a preventative rule named after me.

Somewhere, my father is probably laughing his furry ass off every time one of the ambush gets sent here and the materials for guardians arrive. They highlighted the goddamn rule in the section about Shifter Basics like a Vegas billboard.

Letting out a deep, long-suffering sigh, I watch the first section of freshman tromp through the grass in completely ridiculous attire. Iwarned them we would be out here and this would be a physical activity, yet many of the females wore designer bullshit and heels. Likewise, their male counterparts are clad in expensive preppy shit that’s going to get absolutely wrecked in the ring.

What about physical activity said ‘ditch your uniforms, but don’t wear gym clothes?’ Fucking ridiculous.

“This is torture, Professor. My vintage heels are getting ruined!”

Tension spirals up my spine at the whiny, high-pitched voice of a random member of Delores’ bully club. I still can’t tell them apart—which I know is by design—so I refer to them by their colors in my head. Out loud, I usually find the name of a random dog character since they’re all canines. My tiger enjoys their twisted expressions of distaste when I do it and I know the one student I can’t help but focus on does as well.

“Perhaps when your professor advises there will be physical activity, you’ll make better choices in the future,” I reply as I trudge toward the round ring. “Regardless, that’s a ‘you’ problem, Muttley.”

“Such an asshole,” one of her compatriots mutters in a tone meant to be heard by everyone, including me.

My tiger rears his head, demanding I show her the penalty for insulting a Khan, especially the rightful Raj. I squeeze my hands into fists, letting the claw tips cut my palms to distract me. I could get away with killing Council heirs—my family is too powerful to make enemies and those rich dipshits need us to take their rotten apples—but the amount of red tape and paperwork involved makes my dick shrivel.

Instead of letting the bitchy little shits get to me, I stomp into the middle of the ring, looking at everyone as they pile into the stone bleachers like the king I am. “Welcome to the Khan Ambush Training Ring, losers. In class I’m the last word, but in this ring, I am your king.”

That gets their attention and more than a few uncomfortable looks. I can see the need to correct me crawling over some of the more entitled students, especially the bully group. When my eyes land on the one student I truly want to test, she jerks her chin up and gives me a level stare. Unsurprisingly, she’s the only fucking person dressed for the occasion.

Of course, the curves and skin displayed in the tight sports bra, leggings with peek-a-boo panels and matching shoes don’t help with my inability to keep my damn eyes off her. It’ll be worse when she’s fighting, given that she wrapped her hands in matching colored tape, I’d bet my throne this ensemble is courtesy of my meddling twin.

I’m giving that fucker a piece of my mind tonight.

“Today, we will focus on sparring in humanoid forms. I can’t trust most of you to can fight after your shift, plus there are some that will require special locations, such as the lake, to show me their animals. This lesson doubles as a test of what physical abilities you have—both innate and trained—so I can make an individual plan for each one of you for your tenure at Apex. That plan will be adjusted if your progress speeds up or slows for any reason.”

“I know kung-fu,” the same smart mouthed gold bow girl blurts out. “My Daddy hired a master panda to come train me.”

I arch a brow, refraining from commenting that she wants us to believe a… kung-fu panda has trained her. Once I keep from laughing at the stupidity, I give her an unimpressed look. “Be that as it may, I will pair you up with another student to assess your skills. I have a female professor with fighting experience coming to assist because it’s well known that I make no exceptions for gender in my tests.”

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