Whatever It Takes
My fingers clench into fists at my sides as I storm out of the classroom, the echo of snickers still a fresh sting in my ears. The heat of anger simmers beneath my skin, a fierce bunny shifter’s energy barely contained. Asani, that obnoxious son of a bitch, has been on a tear since the Midori meltdown, and today he sharpened his claws on me.
How I longed to give him a good fucking zap—if I could have convinced my magic to strike out, that is.
In the hallway, my chest heaves with rapid breaths, but I force myself to pause. My heartbeat thumps in my ears, a reminder of my need for control. The early 1900s history segment of history is what I studied this weekend, so I know it like the back of my hand. Yet, Asani spewed his ‘devil’s advocate’ nonsense, deliberately knocking down my answers to his questions. The gaslighting was expert level, especially because he got the support of the other students. Heather E. and Amity, those eagles circling for scraps of favor, squawked their support immediately. That meant I was constantly on the defensive, alone on my island of accurate information as the rest of the fools pretended I was wrong.
“Pathetic,” I mutter under my breath, recalling how their smug faces looked so convinced of their own brilliance. I could’ve shredded their arguments to confetti, but what’s the point? It’s like arguing with rocks—though given their intellect, I’d probably have a more stimulating conversation with the damn rocks.
Instead of fighting back, I let them bask in their false superiority, holding onto my silence like armor. The screen of my phone catches the fluorescent light in the hall as I unlock it, peeking at the audio file labeled ‘Asani’s Antics.’ A sly smile plays on my lips; every condescending word, each snide interruption is now evidence. Farley told me that he loves to bury his adversaries in paper trails and official complaints. This recording will be the bait that brings the dumbasses to the watering hole.
Vengeance will be mine, even if it’s through a thousand tiny paper cuts.
“Let them laugh,” I whisper to myself, tucking the phone back into my bag, “They have no idea what my friends and I are capable of.” Discretion isn’t just about keeping quiet; it’s strategic. It’s waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
When Farley presents this new case, it’ll be a glorious distraction. Asani won’t see it coming, nor will Midori. The thought alone is enough to cool the embers of my rage. With a deep, steadying breath, I lift my chin and stride towards my modern dance class with a renewed vigor .
Wars aren’t won only on the major battlefields—no, they are carefully planned and executed on every front until your enemy drowns.
The mirrored walls of the dance studio reflect a hundred versions of my determination, each one more stubborn than the last. I slip into the room, muscles still taut with the remnants of anger from Asani’s class. My gaze finds Antonovich at the front, her dark eyes already judging me. I know better than to hope for leniency; the Council’s whispers have infected every sympathetic professor in this place.
Hell, Apex and Cappie were easier to navigate than this hellhole.
I stake out my corner, a small territory where I can move and stretch away from prying eyes. The thud of my bare feet against the sprung floor grounds me as I begin the warm-up routine. Each extension, each flex is a silent act of defiance. They may judge, they may scorn, but they cannot touch the fire within me.
As I lose myself in the fluid movements, my mind drifts to the stoic gargoyle with secrets heavy as stone. The memory of his voice last night, firm yet vulnerable, echoes through the vast chambers of my thoughts. “I’ve written to them,” he said, his confession sending ripples across the still waters of our family dynamic.
Surprise flitted across Aubrey’s face—a rare crack in his usually composed facade. He’s always steady and strong, but even he couldn’t hide the shock of Rennie breaking centuries of silence. We knew it was a monumental step for him, pulling threads from the tightly woven tapestry of his past. He’s been avoiding it since it was first mentioned, and now, he’s finally forced himself to reach out.
It’s a testament to how much the poetic mythical loves me and I won’t forget it .
“Once they reply, I’ll tell you everything,” Rennie vowed, and skepticism danced in Felix’s eyes while Fitz simply furrowed his brow in contemplation. It’s not like him to invite others into the shadows that lingered behind his stoic exterior. But this time, he came to us, and that had to count for something.
Chess, ever the peacemaker, placed a gentle hand on Rennie’s shoulder. “We all have ghosts that haunt us, even me,” he’d murmured. “Maybe it’s time I talked about my parents’ death as well. Felix and Fitz know, but I haven’t told the whole story to the rest of you.”
Aubrey grumbled under his breath about the impracticality of collective gloom, but I nudged him with an elbow in a silent reminder that burdens shared are burdens halved. “We don’t have to carry it all alone,” I’d whispered. “That includes you, big guy.”
“Even dragons need to lighten their hoard of secrets,” Felix chimed in, his tone light but his words laden with truth.
Once Rennie hears back from his clutch, I have a feeling that we’ll all be having a drink as we muddle through our traumas together.
What that means for me, I’m not sure. I’ve let them in for much of my sorrow from the Heathers and Todd, but my life with Lucille and Bruno was filled with normalized bullshit. I’m not sure what is normal and what isn’t, so I don’t know what I should tell them. I thought learning to dispose of bodies was an everyday pred thing, but they all seemed surprised when I shared that experience.
As the music swells around me and I leap, spin, and twist to its rhythm, I cling to the promise of release, not just for Rennie or Aubrey, but for all of us entangled in the web of unsaid words and unshed tears. Our stories might be heavy, but together, we are strong enough to bear them.
That is, if I can figure out which of my stories are the kind I should share and which truly aren’t remarkable.
Sweat clings to my skin like a second, damp layer as I shake out my limbs, the final pose of the dance routine dissolving into the charged air of the studio. I’ve pushed through another class where Giselle was overshadowed by the heavy glares of biased scrutiny, and now, with each thudding heartbeat, I am ready to vault back into the comforting chaos of my pack.
“Perhaps next time you’ll be able to make it through the routine without mistakes, Miss Drew,” Antonovich says, her stern voice full of pettiness. “Though I sincerely doubt it. Your body was not made for dance and people have misled you about your level of talent at your previous schools.”
I don’t respond as I breeze by the shitty wolf, ignoring the unhelpful criticism. Antonovich has more issues with me than simply being a Council toadie, and I refuse to engage with her. With my head high and my shoulders squared, I move to my corner and get my things packed.
Fuck her and the flea-bitten canine dick she rode in on.
The hallway is a welcome reprieve from the mirrored walls and watchful eyes, and I pace towards the door that leads to freedom, to lunch, and to my men—my anchors in this relentless storm. I’m practically salivating for the atomopshere of acceptance among my family when the small raccoon shifter appears, huffing and puffing as she runs towards me on tiny legs.
“Dolly, I’m expecting some interesting intel tonight,” Raina breathes out, her raccoon eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and urgency. She was clearly waiting for me, and her excitement is like a cold shower on my fiery internal rage.
This could be the key to unlocking the cult’s documents—or, I’m hoping it is.
“From the prey scholars you know?” I ask, mind already racing, sensing the importance behind her cryptic words. “I thought they were already talking with Aubrey. Why is this coming to you specifically? ”
“Some prey—especially elders of more reclusive species—refuse to have any contact with predators. The bloody history is too much for them to bear.” Her eyes are sad, but her tail twitches, echoing her anticipation. “Information from these kinds of sources could be game-changing. If we are able to find value in it, we may be able to convince them to contact even more secretive groups like mythical prey types.”
Mythical preds are secretive; mythical prey are downright invisible, even I know that.
“Damn. That would tickle Aubrey pink,” I exhale slowly.
There isn’t time to waste on wondering or worrying about that until we see what Raina is sent this evening. Befriending the elder prey and their hidden ancient groups might give us an edge we’ve been scrabbling for since the start of term. No one in the Council would ever be able to get information from those groups, nor would they have tried. But the Fae might have convinced them to help them hide their refugees or assist with their plans based on a common enemy.
“I’m going to go tell whoever is home at the library,” I say, and just like that, we’re off, darting past students and faculty alike, a blur of movement and determination. Raina keeps pace easily, her smaller form nimbly weaving through the throng. Something in my gut is resonating with this development and I want to make sure they’re all ready when the crew brings over whatever Raina has coming to her tonight.
The library looms ahead, and I speed up. Bursting through the doors, I scan for any sign of my guys, my breaths coming in sharp bursts matching the rapid tattoo of my heart against my ribs.
My gut is screaming like it knows something my brain doesn’t and I have to tell them.
“Chessie!” I call out, spotting Chess at a table in the far corner, books stacked around him like miniature fortresses. His head snaps up, a question in his eyes as he looks me over to make sure I’m okay. I grin, hurrying over to the cheetah to drop a kiss on his forehead before I make my announcement. “We might have something big coming.”
“Like what, Angel?” he asks as he takes my hand and looks up at me curiously.
“I don’t know exactly,” I admit. “Raina came to find me after dance; she’s got some big deal prey scholar sending her something this evening. But something inside of me feels like this is important. The minute she spoke about how it might lead to us contact with mythical prey, it felt like there was a live wire inside of me.”
“I don’t know much about mythical prey species,” Chessie says with a frown. “Ren and Aubrey would be more familiar, I assume. I’d think phoenixes and unicorns and the like would be part of that. But fuck if I’ve ever been taught about them. Much like Apex, Bloodstone’s sole focus was furthering the ambush and the pred narrative.”
My grin widens as I nod. “Exactly. That means the Council will have no influence over them, but the fucking Fae and magic users might have turned to them when they began hatching whatever goddamn plan they’re executing. Prey animals are easily as oppressed as them, and would likely enjoy sticking it to preds by helping the rebels with shit over the years.”
“Holy shit, Angel. That’s a brilliant idea.”
I know—and I plan on following it down the rabbit hole as fast as my thumpers will take me.