32. You Really Got Me
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. ”
For a second, the kitchen is dead silent except for the faint tick of the old-fashioned clock above the stove.
I squeal as Fitz, already in motion, moves behind me and hugs me so hard my face almost hits my plate.
I can’t describe how goddamn relieved I am, but it’s a lot, and this will help me survive this semester without crumbling into a ball of anxiety.
“That’s fucking amazing,” Felix says, teeth bared as he grins. “You’ll be in and out of those sessions faster than she can say ‘counseling trauma’. No way she’s going to pull shit like yesterday with a rotating chain of witnesses assigned by the courts.”
I don’t know if I believe that, but if it helps him settle, I’ll let it stand for now.
Fitz looks at me—no, through me—and finally, his whole body relaxes against mine. “We’ll keep you safe, Baby Girl, even if you can do it on your own. No matter what it takes—even the army of rabid hedgehogs—your mates are always behind you.”
He says it like a vow, and when Felix nods, I know it is.
The kitchen fills up with bodies as Chess walks in dressed and ready, his face calm but hands fidgeting.
My cheetah walks over to grab my mug, pours a fresh cup for me without asking, and then slides onto the stool at my side.
His arm goes around my back and his fingers tap a rhythm on my shoulder blade, grounding me.
The gentle calm is one of his best qualities, and I appreciate the hell out of this morning.
“Good morning, my knight. You’re all up early with me. I’m sorry for that.”
“We want to be here for your first day back, Angel.”
I open my mouth to reply, but Aubrey comes in next, shuffling in with his glasses crooked and a soft-shouldered cardigan hanging open over a shirt that is definitely inside out.
He stands directly across from me at the counter, studies my face for exactly one heartbeat, and then reaches across the table to take my hand.
His palm is warm, and he doesn’t let go.
“Lunchable, today will be hard, but it will pass, and so will every other day after. Dragons are masters of accepting this truth, and it’s what I’m cornily sharing with you at this ungodly hour.”
Damn, they’re sweet today; I owe them big time.
My gargoyle is last, always the final act in this parade.
He enters with a grunt, picks up a heel of bread from last night’s tray, and sits at the end of the counter, looking over the group with his heavy-lidded stare.
When he’s satisfied, he leans back and looks at me with a sleepy smile.
“Bonjour, mon petit lapin. Es-tu prêt pour aujourd’hui? *”
I realize I’m not shaking anymore as I force my brain to translate.
My whole body feels loose, like I’ve just dropped seventy pounds of fear on the kitchen floor.
“Yes, Rennie, I think I am. Now that Farley fixed the problem of being alone with Rockland, even the nasty, no-breaks schedule seems less daunting.”
His eyes light up as he looks to the other guys for confirmation, and once they nod, Renard beams. “Excellent. I may not be entirely awake, but knowing you are safe will make my entire day go easier.”
“We do whatever it takes, Princess.,” Felix adds as he sips a glass of water. “I will take you to ballet, and then escort you to the Dupree building where Raina will meet us. Since my run will be over by then, you will be met by Fitz to head to the next class after the counseling.”
“I’ll shiver her fucking timbers if she screws with you; I swear to all the watery gods,” Fitz says with a menacing look in his eyes. “You have no idea how many ideas I got down overnight, and most of them aren’t even lethal like the hedgehogs.”
Aubrey blinks, turning to look at the tiger with a confused expression. “I probably shouldn’t even ask, right?”
“Nope,” I say with a tiny grin. “You should leave that one be, big guy.”
Fitz nods sagely as he smirks. “I already have the escape route mapped if we kill her, though. We can be in Milan by lunchtime. I can program a fake voice bot to keep people here and even your wretched mother occupied for days thinking you’re sick and we have you quarantined in here.”
Sweet Hecate’s broomstick, he’s really in overdrive, isn’t he?
Chess grins at me. “I think he has all the bases covered, Angel.”
I grin broadly at them, my heart swelling with happiness. It doesn’t matter if tomorrow is a circus or a war zone; I know what side my people are on, and that means everything.
Delores Drew is not alone, and she does not have to suffer indignities with no recourse ever again.
“You need to go soon,” Chess says, and his voice is soft but final, like the closing bell in a championship game. “You don’t want to be late for the first class.”
Before we head out for the day, I actually eat a few bites.
Felix gives me the look—eyebrows up, slightly judgmental—and I shovel in enough protein to make him happy.
Aubrey steals the last of my coffee when I’m not looking, and Fitz snags the corner of my toast like he’s entitled to half of everything I own.
This right here is perfection, and no one will convince me otherwise.
* Good morning, my little bunny. Are you ready for today?