Page 46 of Let Us Prey
If only they understood that outside of the guys and a few prey animals, they’re my only friends. I know that sounds a bit ‘wah wah, poor little rich girl,’ but it’s true. I’m grateful for the help of the nurses and the raccoons, buttheycan’t defend me if a pack of hyenas or dingoes break down this door. With the guys, their positions as staff limits them. I mean, it’s notforbiddenfor Bash and Nico to be with me, but I don’t want them to lose their jobs because of standing up for me, either. The Council instructed my parents to send me here to either fight or die and I still have no idea what they get out of that. I can’t imagine I was a blip on their radar before, besides being the Drew heir apparent, but they’re eager to see my life end at Apex, for some reason.
I’m convinced all preds over fifty are assholes who take pleasure in routinely destroying everything good in order to keep their power.
It’s hard, but I decide to trust them enough to show a bit of underbelly. “You guys might be the only ones, save Bash and Nico. Everyone else wants to serve me up as stew,” I grumble. “Besides the dickhead in Shifter History, my other professors tolerate me more than anything.”
“We covered this earlier, hot sauce. You’ve got your hooks in more than just the playboy and the tortured artist . What about Mr. Big Bad Wolf? ‘She belongs to us’ is a helluva statement, girl. Methinks Professor Cassius has more thanprotectingyour fluffy butt in mind.”
Rolling my eyes at the honey badger’s eager matchmaking, I consider his words. I’m sure it is a big deal to ‘claim’ me as under their protection, but he did that for Bash. I mean, all Cassius ever does is smirk and call me Blondie—which Ihate. Lucille’s insistence on my perfect image has always limited my hair color choices, and even though I’m doing my thing now, I’ve been hesitant to step over that last line. It is my hair, after all, and my natural color.
But nothing’s stopping me now, is it?
Sure, someone might tell Lucille, but that’s different. She’s not within arm’s reach and neither is Bruno or Bruiser. They wouldn’t be able to take their vengeance with a wild pair of scissors or anything. I pause for a moment after entering my room, turning the idea over in my mind. They never discovered the tattoo I got over the summer, but that’s covered unless I’m in the shower. This is a much bigger statement of independence—one I can’t hide under clothing.
“Dollface, you still there?”
I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to psych myself up. Rufus and Cori both have amazing hair, but if this gets fucked up, I’ll never hear the end. My enemies are already dinging on me for my supposed flaws every time they see me. But who gives a shit, right?
Okay, Dolly, woman up and ask. You can do this. Your parents can’t control you anymore.
“Well… I was thinking… You see, Professor Cassius is such a dick to me in class—always calling me out and using weird tactics to display his dominance or something. I mean, yeah, he protected me in public, but in class, it’s like he’s… hell, it doesn’t matter.”
“Dolly, did he do anything to hurt you?” Cori’s worried voice chimes over the line, and I groan inwardly.
I didn’t mean to suggest that. Cassius has never actually harmed me, and something deep inside of me believes he wouldn’t. But his constant picking puts me on edge, and I feel like I don’t live up to his standards as—either as a student or as his brother’s… friend? Obviously, he’s far from perfect, because he’s here at Apex, instead of being an alpha with the other Romulus psychos, but I can’t exactly say that to his face. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t end well. “No Cori, he didn’t hurt me. I mean, he gave me a scare a time or two, but I think that wastestingme. Maybe. But mostly I hate that he calls me Blondie—it’s so demeaning!”
“Let’s teach him a lesson, bombshell.” I can almost hear Rufus’ smirk over the phone as he chuckles. “He’s old enough to know that pulling a girl’s pigtails isn’t how you tell her you like her. Whatever shall we do to frost his cookies?”
My lips curve up as I think about his constant focus on my hair, and how someone as controlling as Cassius would get infuriated with a major change. If I have Rufus and Cori dye my hair a completely wild color, I can stick it to himandLucille in one fell swoop. Plus, I can reclaim another piece of myself.
I decide what I want to look like, not them.
“I need to study first, but… maybe later you could come over and we could order a pizza and scheme? I think I have the perfect plan to vex him and all the people who think they can tell me who to be,” I say quietly, hoping they won’t decline. Even if I place an order on Animalzon, I don't know if I can do this on my own. I need steady hands and moral support to do something as big as this. After all, over the summer, my friend Clotilda had to hold my hand the entire time I was getting tattooed and pierced.
“Are you asking us to have… a slumber party?” Cori squeals into the receiver.
“Um, I guess I am.” I smile to myself, realizing this is the first sleepover I’ve had that didn’t involve the Heathers coming in drunk or high and spending the night trying to ‘fix’ me.
Rufus barks a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’ve started. Tell us what we need to bring.”
Oh, boy. Here we go….
* * *
“Guys?Are you sure you know how to do something this complex?”
“Pfft,” Cori replies, picking through strands of my hair to wrap another foil. “I’ve been coloring hair since I could reach the shelves. I can’t even remember what my natural hair color is at this point.”
Rufus hums his agreement, working on the opposite side of her. “Yeah, my aunt Brandine had me help at her salon when I wasn’t delivering product as a kid. I know my way around forty volume, Dolly bear. Don’t worry your cute little nose over it.”
My eyes drift to the mirror and I feel the butterflies start again. Every rebellion this summer started with those nervous buggers, and I can’t imagine it will stop anytime soon. I mean, the last big decision I made before then ended with finding out I’m prey and being excommunicated, so I suppose it’s not surprising. I’m still working on the damage prom night did to my somewhat shaky self-esteem, but I hope this will help.
“The picture was so complicated looking, though, but I trust you guys know what you're doing.”
“Oh, Coco and I have been doing one another since we got to this hellhole. Our hair, of course,” he smirks, winking at me in the mirror as he uses a stinky brush full of dye to paint a section of hair carefully. “Sometimes, preds even pay us. It’s a convenient side hustle.”
I blink.
Should I be paying for this?Oh, fuck, Dolly! You didn’t even ask if they wanted money for the color or materials or anything. What a fucking idiot.
