Page 51 of Prey It By Ear

“Farley said he could help,” Renard offers. “Maybe he’s found something new?”

Fitz finally sits, but only because he’s vibrating with so much anger that he might break something. “Baby Girl, we’re going to figure out a way to make sure you don’t have to go there alone. Even if I have to glue myself to your side or⁠—”

“Or what?” I say, forcing a smile that doesn’t make it all the way up. “Stalk me through the vents? Dress up as a potted plant?”

He grins, but the effect is a little terrifying. “If that’s what it takes? Fuck, yes.”

Aubrey puts his hand on my head, ruffling my hair with so much gentleness that it almost undoes me. “We will fix it, snack size. If the school won’t help, we will.”

The silence that follows is not empty—it’s full of the sound of six people plotting a defensive campaign against a single, rainbow-headed, delusional whack-a-doo. I don’t feel better, exactly, but I feel… protected again.

“We should eat Chess’s food while we wait for the badger to reply,” Renard says softly. “You will need the energy for tomorrow, and for what comes next. Plus, until we hear from him, Felix and Fitz will be bouncing off the walls.”

One more night together before the real trouble starts, and we’re waiting on my lawyer yet again.

Seriously, fuck my life.

You Really Got Me

Delores

At five in the fucking morning, my eyes are open and my brain is running on fumes and coffee. The world outside the annex windows is a monotone haze. The kitchen’s lights are dimmed while I sit at the counter, already in my l’Academie uniform, and poking at leftovers from the previous night’s comfort binge. Not even the smell of the food helps, because I keep seeing Rockland’s clown-wig hair and spittle-flying tantrum every time I blink. My stomach twists itself into knots, even as I push a crumb around my plate for the tenth lap.

It will be fine, Dolly. She’s not Lucille, and she can’t hurt you like her, so you will survive intact.

Fitz is already up, which means he never went to bed. He’s pacing in slow, controlled laps between the fridge and the window, hands moving with a speed that suggests either plotting or unraveling. I suspect plotting. The first thing I heard him say this morning is, “—or, we could rig the admin building with a net, like in those predator documentaries, and then drop her straight into a pit full of hedgehogs with rabies. Nobody expects a hedgehog, Baby Girl. It’s always snakes or wolves, or lions, but show me one motherfucker prepared for a truly angry hedgehog.”

He’s in boxers, a crop top, and a pair of novelty socks with little bow-wearing bunnies on them, a gift from me that he wears with zero shame. Even in the pre-dawn fog, his hair is styled up into a feral genius tornado that he’s clearly been working on since the caffeine hit.

My fierce stalker has been coding all night as he devised revenge on the woman who dared to upset me; I know that for certain.

“Wouldn’t the hedgehogs just curl up and nap?” I mostly keep him talking so I don’t start doom-spiraling alone. “They don’t seem like… angry creatures, Fitzy.”

The assistant pipes in the second I say his name. “Good morning, Baby Girl. To answer your questions, hedgehogs are not violent by nature. Rabies, however, is a zoonotic virus that affects the central nervous system of animals. Once symptoms occur, it has a one hundred percent mortality rate. It induces severe fever, hydrophobia, dehydration, agitation, and seizures. A hedgehog that has become rabid would salivate intensely and be likely to attack vigorously.”

I snort, slapping a hand on my face as the tiger beams at his own work. “See? They’d be off the charts. Also, there’s an element of surprise. Of course, another option I’ve considered is to pipe a highly specific, custom soundtrack into the admin building—a medley of polka and children’s music—at an increasing volume every hour, until her brain breaks down entirely. Nonviolent, but exquisitely cruel.”

“Noted for later,” I say, and try to take a bite of my food, but my hand is still carrying the faint tremor from yesterday’s meltdown. I hate that—I’d rather have black eyes than a visible shake in front of that woman.

Felix strides down the hallway next, arching his brow at the two of us. He’s in full running gear—tank, shorts, even a reflective wrap on his biceps—and his hair is already pulled up. He says nothing at first, just leans down and kisses the top of my head. Then he circles the counter, phone in hand, and scrolls so fast the blue glow of the screen reflects in his teeth.

Odd for him to be checking it this early, especially since his shit doesn’t start for hours.

As I ponder, Fitzy is mid-rant about portable sound systems—he’s on a tangent about the frequency that causes bowel evacuations—when Felix’s phone makes the low, aggressive buzz of an incoming text. It freezes him instantly; his shoulders set and his jaw flexes as he reads, but instead of the usual string of profanity or a warning, he goes absolutely still, then sighs—a deep, honest exhale that feels like a relief to witness.

Fitz senses the shift. “Bro? What’s the word? Do we have any more info finally?”

The elder tiger taps the screen twice and then hands the phone over to me. His eyes do a strange, hard flick between my face and my hands, maybe to see if I’m ready, maybe to make sure I don’t drop his phone. “Farley came through for you, Princess. Read the thread.”

I scroll up, blinking at the avalanche of blue bubbles from my lawyer. I skim for keywords, but the gist hits me all at once, and my pulse stutters in a new, electrified rhythm.

Oh, thank motherfucking hell. That badger is a miracle worker.

I summarize out loud for Fitz in a dry voice. “Apparently, because of some archaic international and cross-border statutes, I am legally entitled to representation at every ‘mandatory counseling’ session in France. The school can’t refuse it, and if they do, it’s a civil rights violation. Because the rest of the legal team is occupied with court duties—whatever that is—they could apply for emergency legal team representatives that are based on campus. Farley already filed the paperwork, so it starts today.”

The younger twin whoops and slaps the counter hard enough to rattle my fork. “I knew my Baby Girl’s hillbilly would come through. That badger’s got a mind for war, I’ll give him that.”

I keep reading, my hands a little less trembly now as relief sinks in. “Raina, the Captain, or another rotating member of the crew will be in the building for every session, officially credentialed as legal staff. They have a direct line to Farley and the Postmen, so if Rockland loses her shit, we have backup. Plus, Farley wants them armed with non-lethal tranquilizer darts in case ‘extraction’ is needed, and they’ve already mapped out all the admin building’s staff and entry points.”