Page 1 of Let Us Prey
ONE
Bad Reputation
Delores
Icrank the music to max volume as I speed down the highway. My hands drum on the steering wheel of my vintage Mustang as I dance along, hair whipping in the breeze as the convertible takes the curves far better than a car of this age should. It’s my first day at Apex Academy, and I need every ounce of encouragement I can get.
This is the place I’m supposed to die.
After the events at prom in the spring, when I emerged as a bunny instead of a predator, I was a pariah at Shifter Secondary. My former besties and ex-boyfriend filled my days with cruel pranks, dangerous threats, and promises that, once I got to Apex, the ban on killing underclassmen would lift.
You’d think that would have me running as far away from Apex Academy as my thumpers could carry me. Unfortunately, given the Council’s decree that I attend Apex rather than get killed for emerging as prey, I don’t have a choice in the matter, and my classmates know it. I deleted every speck of social media to keep the maniacal look in their eyes out of my head when I didn’t have to be at school, and the absolute rage that lack of contact unleashed in the Heathers was terrifying.
Regardless, I kept my head down and endured the trauma of my last month of school by counting the hours to summer. My home life was even worse, however. If my mother wasn’t calling me into her drawing room so she could spend half the evening drinking and berating me, my father was licking his chops as if he’d prefer to eat me and get it over with. I knew he wouldn’t—the Council decreed I would be allowed to fight for my life at the Academy. That didn’t keep Bruno from eying me like a ribeye every single time he had to tolerate my presence.
I suppose it didn’t help that I spent the entire summer defying every single edict they’ve handed down my entire life.
My text to Monsieur Grrowlvinchy secured a job at his fashion house for the duration of the break, and Lucille couldn’t do a damned thing to stop me. Politics in the fashion world are as treacherous as they are in the Capital, and he assured Lucille that if she denied him the first apprentice he’d chosen in decades, he’d make certain she was at the bottom of every Fall Line preview list. She backed off immediately and allowed me to accept the position, which was the only thing that kept me sane.
Working got me out of the house for long stretches, gave me real money of my own rather than scraps of change, and allowed me to hide from my bullies. None of them would be caught dead taking a job—even an internship as prestigious as this—so I could avoid contact with the people I wanted to see the least.
I had one small run-in with douchebag Todd, but luckily, it was outside of the underground goth club I was hanging out at. He threatened me, but the friends I made in the summer taught me well. I was carrying mace, and I sprayed the living hell out of him before taking off at a run that would make a sprinter proud. I made it to my car before any of his idiot friends came looking for him, and I consider that a huge win.
Spending my summer internship surrounded by prey animals was extremely educational.
Wrinkling my nose, I sigh as the track changes on my playlist. That night at the club underlined a few things I’d been wrestling with for months. It would be much easier and safer to associate with prey animals as much as possible, because that’s what I am. But when I came back from the restroom and saw my new friends cowering along the back wall as the preds circled the dance floor looking for weak ones to cull, I knew I could never do that. Besides possibly attracting more vengeful preds by simply hanging out with them, I’ve also been raised as if I were a pred.
I couldn’t stomach hiding along the wall for the rest of my life; it’s just not in me, especially after I spent the entire break reclaiming my agency.
Okay, that’s a super fancy way of saying ‘finding myself,’ but I read a lot of psych and self-help books at night. I had countless hours to fill once I came home from my job since I had few people to talk to. I texted with my work friends, sure, but since I had to escape from all the social apps to keep my inboxes from filling with hate and death threats, I was excluded from many of their group chats. I wrote songs, of course, but a girl can only write so many sappy betrayal songs or hate filled anthems before it gets depressing. So I buried my nose in books of all kinds—figuratively, of course. Lucille wasn’t inclined to let me go anywhere without Bruiser, and even when I got my own car, I wanted to keep my reading preferences a secret, so I bought e-books.
After devouring everything I could on how to ‘reignite my fire’ and why I should just ‘wash my fur,’ I finally realized that the key to surviving this year at Apex was to grab my future by the balls and squeeze.
That led to a flood of fantasies about hot professors featuring library stacks, gym mats, and art tables—which led to buying another boat load of books with the hot older preds and students trope. I even found some where the guyssharedthe girl, and man, did that do it for me. Todd was a dud, and I didn’t have the slightest interest in dating anyone my age, more Animalzon orders were necessary for fueling my book boyfriend fantasies. I hope that will hold me over until I get out of this hellhole Academy, and after that, I’ll have to re-assess.
I mean, no way I could date a prey animal—not after being immersed in the world I lived in for eighteen years. But how could I ever trust some salivating pred dickhead not to chow down on me like I was the godsdamned Preybury Bunny?
Ugh.
Like I said, I’ve accepted that dating is off the menu for a long time. That’s why I have a box full of distractions to hide under my bed in my dorm. We’re lucky enough to have singles at Apex because the alumni are so wealthy the school can give each student their own space. I’m sure that’s not the only reason. Given that many mated pairs meet at Apex and form alliances, you’d hardly know single people exist by the time graduation rolls around.
At least, that’s what my Google searches revealed. Hundreds of message boards have entire sections dedicated to preds finding their mates between the different secondary academies via video chat and messaging apps. I was careful not to use anything that could be traced back to me, but I had to know what I was walking into. My skunk friend Clotilda worked in a cafe nearby and she made sure we cleaned my phone of tracking and spyware. Unsurprisingly, it had malware on it from both my parents and my bitchy ex-friends.
Trust Heather E.—of the tech-giant Erickson family—to know absolutely everything about everyone so she can spread her venom whenever she feels like it. The girl has no life at all outside of maliciously bullying others or trying desperately to get validation through her circle of dimwits. I still can’t believe I put up with those nasty little fish for as long as I did. I’m still a salty Sally about my exes—friends and otherwise—and the way everyone cast me aside; I don’t want to be in their circle again, but I want them to pay for treating me like a used Kleenex.
My rage at a lifetime of betrayal fueled me this summer in a way nothing ever has before. I worked long hours for the first month, earning enough to buy myself a car so I didn’t have Bruiser lurking about like a shark in blood-filled waters. Lucille was furious, but Luc walked me through the paperwork and I was technically eighteen, so there was nothing she could do to stop me—especially since I didn’t keep it parked at the house. I paid for it in bruises and blood, and it was my first taste of freedom.
Since that day, I’ve physically transformed myself into the person I’ve always wanted to be. I’m still blonde—because it’s natural—but as soon as I had enough money, I started altering my body and style in ways that felt more genuine than Botox and French tips. My friends at the boutique used remnants to make me an entirely new wardrobe—a sort of goth/punk mash-up that makes me feel rebellious and hot. I snuck out late one night with my Flamingoth friends to get a tattoo—one I’ll probably never show anyone, due to its location, but it reminds me of who I want to be. I traded my kitten heels for knee-high combat boots, and my dusting of neutral makeup for black liner and smoky eyes.
Yeah, I know. It’s pretty basic to go from good girl to bad bunny, but I spent far too long being squeezed into a box I didn’t want to be in. It’s only fair that I get to rebel now that I’m free.
Frowning, I think about the prey friends I’m leaving behind. At Apex, I won’t have any support nearby—even Luc will be an hour away. I’ll be surrounded by preds, and I’m fairly certain the Heathers—like their parents before them—will take over the social hierarchy of Apex Academy as quickly as possible. That means the likelihood of me making any actual friends or allies is nil.
As the music changes, I roll my head on my shoulders to get the tension out of my neck and think about the surprise ‘gift’ someone left on my doorstep last night. Todd’s bloody, broken body was discovered on the stoop at 2 a.m., and while I’m a little concerned about retaliation, I also have my suspicions about who’s responsible. Alongside my ex was the necklace I lost on prom night with a messily scrawled note that only said “fuck ‘em”.
And I know it didn’t meanliterally.
I can only think of one pred in the entire world who knew what Todd did to me at promandcould stalk me without tripping my fear response. But that can’t be. Sebastian—Bash—didn’t even ask my name, much less where I lived when he comforted me that night. My necklace was lost in the shifter fighting ring when Todd took my virginity under false pretenses, but that didn’t mean the wolf knew it was mine.
