Heroes
Delores
There’s nothing like coming back to campus after being gone for a while—assuming you like your campus and aren’t dreading every step you take because the entire institution is hellbent on destroying your sanity, soul, and schedule.
Our living room is already humming with the soft whirring of the new air filtration system, but this morning it smells like happiness and cholesterol.
There’s a spread on the table that would make Lucille faint, and at the head of it sits the grinning mastermind who cooked it, Chester Khan.
My cheetah has orchestrated a breakfast worthy of a condemned pred’s last meal.
Belgian waffles stacked high enough to earn a structural engineering award, a bowl of whipped cream that could ice a wedding cake, and six types of berries tempt me.
There’s bacon so thick and glossy it looks lacquered.
He even filled a tiny, perfect carafe of maple syrup with an actual leaf floating in it, which is such a baller move I want to squeal with glee.
But I don’t, because he is currently loading my plate like a grandma determined to make me develop diabetes before class.
After living with my mother, my friends, my ex, and their diet culture shit for most of my life, I’m still humbled every time my men enjoy my appetite and curves.
My mates all hover nearby, circling their prey, except in this house the prey is actually me.
Ren and Aubrey are deep in conversation about something called ‘barcode migration’, which I’m choosing to ignore because I avoided library duties this year.
Fitz is at the far end of the counter, methodically decimating a slab of bacon with the precision of a machine.
His twin is alternating between pouring black coffee down his throat and staring at the laptop with an annoyed expression.
I take a bite of waffle and let the sugar hit my brain, because I know the conversation that’s about to happen is going to require all of my coping mechanisms. The minutes tick by with only the sounds of eating, soft banter, and the occasional snarl from Fitz when a berry rolls out of his reach.
Felix slams his mug down and says, “We have to talk about the call.”
Instant blackout, as if someone turned off every sense in the room except my awareness of the bite stuck in my throat. My stomach flips as I’m back on a video call where my mother was lounging on the deck of a yacht, and at her side was a man I recognized even though we’ve never met: Taka Khan.
I know it’s making the elder twin angry, and I don’t blame him. Our parents are utter garbage.
I put my fork down and take a drink to loosen the food that’s stuck.
Once it’s gone, I blow out a long breath as I fold my hands in front of me.
Felix shifts as he raises his brow, and Fitz scoots closer, placing his hand on my knee to squeeze it.
He’s been extra gentle since last night, and I get why.
He knows I don’t give a fuck about Bruno dying or who Lucille is fucking, except for the fact that it’s my mates’ dad.
That’s her pulling her usual ‘I’m the better Drew’ crap she’s been doing my entire life, even though I never once tried to compete.
Chess puts his silverware down as well, wiping his mouth before he says, “We will not let them win, Angel.” He’s using my nickname, which means he’s trying to keep me present and out of the anxiety spiral that makes me want to barf up his perfect waffles.
“But we have to be more careful with how we deal with either of them now. They’re playing dirty together, and we can’t let them see us lose our shit.
It’s what they want; neither of those egomaniacs gives a shit about sex or love or any real emotion. ”
That’s something he should say to Felix, not me. I’m well aware of those truths.
Renard glances up, his eyes glinting with fury.
“That call was used for a power move, oui. We know more about the Society and the Treaty than they suspect. Also, we know which people we should look at, and we can identify where they are to find out what moves they are making. The Raj leaving the island also leaves him and the island vulnerable. We have the upper hand, even if it does not feel that way. ”
“Do we, though?” I mutter as I push food around on my plate. “Their big reveal felt a lot like getting pantsed on the playground, and then set on fire. Plus, she alluded to me knowing Bruno wasn’t my bio dad. So she has some idea of how far along we are.”
Aubrey smirks, rising to his feet and walking over to wrap his arms around me like a giant teddy bear.
I’m not above seeking physical comfort, especially when life is making me want to scream.
His hands are warm, and he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“I can always set them on fire, snack-size. It’s a fitting way to go when it’s time. ”
“I was going to suggest decapitation,” Fitz says.
“But immolation is a classic for a reason. We have plenty of time to decide how your mother goes. I think Felix and I will handle Taka, though. Making sure that it’s violent, while also humiliating is important—like being made up like a clown during the torture. ”
The moment of levity works, so I stop vibrating out of my skin. “That would be pretty funny, Fitzy.”
Before anyone else can speak, the virtual assistant says, “I will run an algorithm to find the most humorous and embarrassing ways to die, Baby Girl. Would you like them to be messy or less labor-intensive?”
Goddamn him for being such a fucking genius with this shit; I can’t even stay upset now.
As we all laugh until it hurts, the cloud lifts overhead even more, and Felix spins it to face me. “Let’s go over how we’re going to amend our plans, now that we have this crappy information.”
Chess walks over to the living room table and grabs his tablet, standing in front of us with the stylus poised over the screen. “Hit me. I’ll change it here and then work on the boards after breakfast,”
“I’m going to call Taka today. I’ll act like I don’t know about him and Lucille working together, and pretend I want to bring him in as a sponsor for the Pred Games this year.
If he bites, that means we get both him and your mother here for the big match.
That gives us two weeks to prep the play with Mattie. ”
I blink. “Wait, are you serious? We’re just… inviting the two most dangerous people on the planet to my school? That’s the plan? I was hoping they’d forget about it because both are a bit much, aren't they?”
“It’s the only way to guarantee they’ll both be distracted at the same time,” Felix says. “They’ll show up to show each other up, especially if they think they’re being honored or vying for attention. That’s when we hit our real mark.”
“The Mattie heist,” Chess says, grinning as he scribbles quickly. “We can be all Ocean’s 11 about it. Fitz, you and I can work on the details together.”
I want to vomit thinking about their father in my presence, but I also want to jump up and down.
If there’s a chance to get my friend out and ruin Lucille’s glee, we should take it.
“Okay,” I say. “Then we play it the dangerous way. What about all the security they will bring? Won’t that fuck up our plans?
Farley and the Postmen are still in Paris. ”
“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.
I shake my head. “I have to. If I can’t even walk by her office, how am I supposed to last through an entire year of this?”
He nods as I reach for the door and give it a determined yank. “Agreed.”
I’m doing it because I’m Dolly Drew, and I refuse to let that bitch win ever again.