Page 45 of Prey It By Ear

“You don’t give us enough credit, Baby Girl,” Fitz says. “We’re extremely good at being diabolical—some might say it’s genetic. Plus, we lived with him long enough to predict what kind of entourage he’ll bring, and you know your shitty mom. We can plan for that and use all our friends and whoever else we can gather—even people who don’t know they’re part of our plans.”

Aubrey nods, letting go of me as he adjusts his glasses to think. I notice how the guys are already falling into our normal roles when he says, “What does today look like for everyone but the Raj? I have a lot of bullshit to finish here since they purposefully expanded my duties and took away my aides.”

“You will focus on that with Ren.” The elder tiger looks at me seriously. “Go to your training with Z, pick up the stuff from the Arts building, and lie low. Stay with your friends or the crew, and don’t make yourself a target if you can help it.”

I snort because ‘lying low’ has never, ever worked for me.

“After that, I want you to go to Rockland’s office before you have to be there tomorrow,” Chess says softly. “Call it exposure therapy, but I’ll go with you.”

“Can’t we just light it on fire and be done with it?” I ask petulantly. “Fitz said arson is fine as a method of handling things.”

Chess shrugs, as if this is an acceptable Plan B, before replying, “Maybe. But I think if you’re going to need to be there every day for an hour, you need to get used to the feeling of getting there and not sinking into fury.”

The exiled Raj stands and stretches, rolling his shoulders as if he’s about to fight the world. “Ren and Aubrey will be on library duty. Fitz, you stay here. If you leave, the house will be empty, and I’m not convinced you didn’t boobytrap every square inch of it when I wasn’t looking.”

Fitz gives him a salute, but doesn’t deny it. “Guess I’m hanging loose and working on projects. No problem, big bro.”

“Princess,” Felix adds, turning to me, “try to eat a little more. We don’t know what bullshit they’re going to throw at you today, and I want you fueled up. Plus, you have practice, and we didn’t run this morning.”

Picking up my fork, I polish off the rest of my waffle, ignoring the way the guys are all watching me as if they’re waiting for me to choke. Once I finish, I exhale and stretch my hands out. “Okay, ready for the firing squad.”

“Not before you brush your teeth and get dressed, ma petite,” Renard says as he peels himself off the couch. “Even the bravest rabbit must have a fresh mouth and be presentable.”

They’re full of overprotective vibes and big D energy, but I’ll allow it.

My dragon just gives me a gentle hair mussing as he leaves, and I gather myself to stand. “I’m heading to my room to get dressed. No one is coming along because I want to be quick about it. See you in a few.”

The day is just beginning, and I’m already over it.

Not a good sign for this year.

After a grueling practice, Chess is waiting for me as I walk out of the locker room. I groan as I roll my eyes to the sky pleadingly. “Are we going there first? I cannot run around picking up books at the Shird if I have that hanging over my head like I did at practice. Zhenga called me out for being spacey like ten times.”

My cheetah grins. “I have every confidence that you can do this, Angel. And if you lose your mind, I’ll cover it up before anyone notices.”

This is exactly why I love him—his calm, gentle support without a hint of judgment.

For a moment, I feel almost normal, but then I remember that I’m walking into enemy territory. The nerves come screaming back, and I shove them down until I imagine walking on them. Chess is beside me, and I know if anyone can keep me from flashing back to her nonsense, it’s him.

The campus smells like October, even though it’s still September on the calendar and most random students we see are wearing shorts in denial of the inevitable. Wet leaves, coffee, a little sweat, and the sharp bite of the wind that means you will need to carry a jacket everywhere soon. It’s beautiful, and I try to absorb it instead of wigging out about my most recent abuser. My brain is short-circuiting with every step closer to the admin building, and all I can think about is how the smell of the hallways in that place is exactly like the inside of a morgue.

Yes, Lucille took me to visit a morgue once, and no, I’m not ready to relay that story just yet.

My mate walks beside me casually, hands in his pockets, as he watches the passersby. Someone could almost believe he’s out for an afternoon stroll, except for the way his nostrils flare because he’s on high alert. He says nothing, but every few feet, he glances over to make sure I’m still coping.

“Feeling okay, Angel?” he finally asks, his voice low.

“If by ‘okay’ you mean ‘like I’m about to throw up my pancreas’, then yeah, top of the world.”

Chessie bumps his shoulder into mine. “You’ll be fine. We’re just walking to her office; no one said you had to go in today.”

I want to be the version of myself that walked into a stadium last spring and made the crowd scream, but the version I am today is a deflating pool toy.

Every step toward the stone monolith of the admin building adds five pounds to my shoes, and I remember what that therapist said about PTSD in preds. It isn’t anything shameful, nor does it make me weak or erase the confidence I’ve built since Apex. It’s the trauma I’ve endured my entire life, plus that of the past three years, making itself known in my body. Helping release it will eventually bring me to an equilibrium, but I have to acknowledge it first.

That’s what I’m doing internally as we pass under the weirdly ornate archway—Gothic arches, pointless buttresses, and some kind of vomiting gargoyle perched above the door that I suspect is a snark about the gargoyles being in hiding. The glass doors are immaculate, which means the little prey animals who do the cleaning have been at it since dawn. I pause at the threshold and wipe my hands on my pants.

“You can do this,” Chess whispers, his lips barely moving as he sees me pause in place.