Page 54 of Let Us Prey

My declaration of independence would have a lot more credence if I hadn’t bargained Fitz out of murder by allowing him to buy me an egregiously expensive replacement Smackbook. Even Chess was cajoling me into letting them help by the end, and I couldn’thold out any longer. After all, it will be a hell of a lot more useful to not have to worry about my old crappy laptop crashing again rather than accepting thousands of dollars of lace scraps, right?

Ugh. Not good, Dolly. Stop letting the hot tiger spoil you 24/7. Remember—people leave.

I want to argue with myself further, but I’m at the doorway of the lecture hall. If I don’t get inside, I’ll miss my chance to claim the best location for a rapid escape. Shaking my head, I scramble into the room and drop into the seat I chose on the first day. The hall is usually empty when I arrive, but I notice the scrawny fisher cat in the back corner. He meets my gaze briefly, then goes back to drawing in his notebook, as if he’s worried someone will walk in and see him looking at me.

How have the Heathers terrified the student body so thoroughly that they either attack me or avoid me like I’m contagious?

I know they ruled the roost at Shifter Secondary, but Apex has five times as many students, most of them older than us. My phone dings and I sigh, deciding whether I should unlock it to see what fresh hell is being posted on the app message boards. They can’t get to me via social media anymore—I deleted my old accounts and had my skunk hacker friend Clotilda set up untraceable ones to keep the harpies off my case. Once Gold figured out I gained access to the Apex app, my former besties started using the student message boards to spread lies and venom instead.

Too bad no one in this fucking place monitors student internet activity, right?

Except thereissomeone whose job it is to watch over digital student domains, but she’s a six-foot tall ostrich shifter who barely gets home without some testosterone-laden asshole trying to make her dinner. Betsy sure as hell can’t confront the heirs about their nasty cyberbullying—if she did, she’d be lucky if all she lost was her job.

That’s how the elites win here; they control who is in charge of what, and their pawns won’t fight back.

Finally giving in, swiping my DiePhone open and typing in my encryption key quickly. I discover the sound wasn’t from the Apex app—instead it’s an alert from the web crawlers I have on search terms that might relate to me. My eyes close as I open the video montage on YouTube—it includes clips from the run for my life, my walk of shame at the Vom Prom, my trudge across campus in Fitz’s borrowed clothes, and a laugh track over my battle in the shifter circle.

Unsurprisingly, that bit has got edited to look as though Gold got the drop on me.

Just. Fucking. Great. They’ve threatened the A/V kids, I see.

A gasp from the back makes me turn my head and I give the fence-riding fisher cat a narrowed-eyed glare. If he thinks this video shows me being treated poorly, maybe he should grow a pair of fuzzy ones the next time the assholes in this class are torturing me. Otherwise, I don’t have time for his faux outrage.

“Oh, look! It’s the village bicycle, and she’s parked right in the front for easy access!” Silver crows as she walks in. She’s followed by Gold—who’s acting like she needs the support of Pink and Purple to walk. All four of them have gotten their asses trounced in Shifter Basics in the past two weeks and Gold thinks she’s going to win a court case.

I almost ask how she plays both the victimandthe bully at the same time without her head exploding, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of engaging with me. Instead, I flip my rainbow hair over my shoulder and pointedly close my screen. With an imperious arch of my brow, I grab my headphones and put them in my ears, hoping to end the conversation.

“Awfully dangerous to cut off one of your senses when you’re on the menu, pork chop,” Pink hisses as she guides her leader past me.

Continuing to pretend I can’t hear is more effective than reminding her I’m a goddamned bunny, not a pig, but that doesn’t mean theconstant commentary about my animal isn’t frustrating. Refocusing, I open my textbook, checking over my notes for the practice exam we’re taking today. I spent hours last night pouring over the chapters full of pred propaganda. I’m aware my professor will deduct points on any open-ended questions, so I’m determined to get every single multiple-choice question correct.

“Good afternoon, class! I presume you are all ready for the practice exam,” Professor Abel says, bustling to the desk at the front of the hall. “I know I promised to split the exam into equal parts closed and open questions, but I hate to remain stagnant. So, I wrote an entirely new exam consisting only of essay questions, so I can really assess your depth of knowledge.”

My jaw drops. If there aren’t any strictly fact-based sections on the exam, I will certainly fail. This weasly little asshole will mark everything I say as incorrect or ding me on every possible pedantic point he can.

I have to say something.

“Professor?”

His beady eyes find me, a sneer crossing his lips as he replies. “Yes, Miss Drew? Is there a complaint from the prey gallery?”

“You had us study for an exam that no longer resembles the one we will be taking. It isn’t fair to penalize us simply because you changed your mind at the last minute,” I say, choosing each word carefully.

A bark of nasally laughter erupts from his throat for far longer than is professional. When he stops mocking me, he slams a stack of test packets on the desk. “Life is rarely fair, Miss Drew. As the professor, it is within my purview to change my test anytime I wish. However, since you feel unprepared, I’m going to insist you leave class for the day. You may return in our next session, to learn from your more studious classmates’ results.”

What? Is he fucking serious? He’s kicking me out of class?

“That's hardly a surprise, Professor. There are two reasons we’ve always called her Double D,” Gold interjects with a smug grin.

I whip my head around, digging my nails into the desk to keep from losing control of the bunny simmering in my veins. “I wouldn’t run my fat mouth if I was the one who thought the sinking of the Titanic was a made-up story in a movie. You based your entire theory on the fact that ‘cameras weren’t even invented back then’, you moron.”

A low gasp followed by a chorus of laughter makes her shoot out of her seat, but Professor Abel raps his knuckle on the desk. “Despite Miss Erickson’s lack of human history knowledge, she’s at the top of the class inourhistory. Miss Drew, you need to exit so the students whowantto learn may take their exams. Run along, little bunny. Take your ‘F’ like an obedient afternoon snack.”

I grab my book and my bag, head held high, and stomp to the door. Before I leave, I look at the pudgy Tasmanian devil with anger radiating from my being. My voice is steady as I get in a parting shot. “You may think you’re safe because you suck up to the heirs in this class, but I’mstilla Drew heir.Theyhave also claimed me as a Khan protectee. Neither of our families forgives those who cross them. Think about that when you’re trying to sleep tonight.”

His face turns as white as a snow leopard, and a feral smirk crosses my face. This is what Felix meant by me still being a worthy opponent. The look of fear on this shrimp-dicked pissant is making every cell in my body hungry for more. I’m enjoying his discomfort and the scent is making my skin tingle.

I’ve never heard of prey responding like this before.

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