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Delores

Thankfully, the talent show was not an absolute train wreck. Cori and I would have had good grades anyway, but Rufus was almost unbearable near the end. The audience loved our song and dance, so I was happy, especially when I got to go home to snuggle with my guys.

It almost overshadowed the shock of Chad’s body dangling from the rope in the middle of rehearsal—almost. That’s been bothering me ever since. I can’t help wondering why the killer dropped a dead body at rehearsal instead of during the actual show. It wasn’t the optimal location to get attention and Chad’s parents have money, but not enough to turn the tide to a proper investigation.

There were parents, donors, talent scouts, Apex faculty, and Council members at the actual show. You’d think that group would be a better audience for a dramatic statement. It’s as if the shadowy figure in the wings was more concerned with scaring the students than the big wigs.

I’m not sure what to make of that.

Is this person hunting me? Are the dead people connected to my presence here at Apex?

That makes little sense, though. I didn’t know most of the people who went missing; they were sophomores and upperclassmen. The only ones connected to me were the weasel and Chad. The first barely spoke to me and the second couldn’t remember my name after twelve years of school together. Of course, the ominous note the former sent me was odd, but again, I hardly knew him.

I’m determined to figure out what the hell is going on at Apex before someone I care about gets hurt.

Aubrey and I have spent countless hours in his archives, but we haven’t figured out where I recognize the damn drawings from. Fitz and Chess are tracking down every scrap of info we can find in various agency records to find a connection between the victims or their families. I even gave them the dossiers Clotilda made for me during the summer, when I was planning revenge. Her research was on the Council families, but I thought maybe it would help connect the dots somehow. Even Rennie is taking off occasionally to meet with people he won’t tell any of us about—though it has yielded nothing so far.

We can’t get our hands around the reason this started when I arrived or how kidnapping students is related.

In ‘ A History of the Honorable Academy of Apex Predators ’, it mentions the ‘Society’ can access their powers through a vaguely described list of items. We haven’t located any of them yet, but the drawings seem to be linked to their hiding spots. I’ve asked Ren and Aubrey several times if they recognize any of it, but they always redirect me. I assume there are reasons for their hesitancy, so I haven’t pushed it. Our two truths game has allowed us to get to know each other better; but I understand certain subjects are sensitive. I’m not a hundred percent certain I want to push their boundaries that far yet.

Even though it might help us figure this out… before more corpses appear.

I hate that my presence has made everyone unsafe.

Regardless of the brave face I’m putting on, I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. Solemnly gazing at my bathroom mirror, I wonder if I’m not worth the trouble I’ve already caused. Lucille would agree with that sentiment—she’s told me how little value I have a million times. I know Rufus and Cori care about me, and the guys have opened up in their own ways, but I can’t help wondering if I’m more of a burden than a bright spot.

My mother’s criticism practically rings in my ears, as I brush my hair and brood.

As if I’ve summoned her, my phone rings, and I groan. When I see my mother’s name on the screen, I press my forehead to the cool glass. I haven’t heard from her in weeks, which gave me room to breathe. She’ll have something disparaging to say about my performance at the talent show, though she couldn’t be bothered to attend. The entire audience loved our performance, but Lucille will never be pleased with anything I do. With a sigh, I press the green button and wait for the snide barb in place of a greeting.

“Delores,” she purrs. The sound makes my entire body tense—Lucille is good at toying with her food. “I’m so glad I caught you!”

She says it like I had a choice. If I hadn’t answered, she would have sent Bruiser.

“Hello, mother. It’s nice to hear from you. What can I do for you today?” It's easier to ask her what she wants as politely as possible at the beginning of her calls. Getting down to business means I don’t have to endure as much drunken rambling dotted with random threats.

“Don’t be like that, my daughter. I was so pleased to hear about your outstanding performances in the talent show. You made our family look poised and talented, according to my sources.”

What the hell?

Suspicion floods my veins at her words. Lucille doesn’t give compliments unless she wants something. Praise from my mother costs way more than I’m willing to pay, so I brace myself for what’s coming. “I appreciate your kind words, mother. I rarely earn your praise. I am pleased that I represented our family well.”

Her laugh is airy; she’s transformed into her delightful socialite persona. “Oh. Delores, don’t be so dramatic. I only wish for you to secure a husband who can provide for you in the manner to which you were raised. Our family name is respected, as you know. I want to protect it so you can wield its power in the future.”

Well, this is new.

Her personality transplant makes me extremely skeptical. The real Lucille has to be laying in wait under the surface somewhere. I don’t believe this pile of tripe for a second. She’s made it unquestionably clear she didn’t want the family name associated with me at all—that I will never take her place on the Council as heir. Whatever she’s fishing for must be very important for her to make this much effort.

I’m not concerned about her finding me a husband. I’ve found my fated mates, and I don’t need to worry about her political matchmaking. My hope for a future with them is rooted deep in my heart, and the seed blossoms a little more each day. I’d like to find time for a bit of naked time with the remaining grumpy kings, but that will happen when the time is right.

I believe it in my heart.

It occurs to me I’ve been ignoring Lucille as she droned on, and I blink in surprise. I never used to tune her out so easily. I was too scared she’d say something important, and I’d be punished for missing it. Shaking my head in amazement, I refocus on her voice, trying to pick up the thread of her conversation.

“...my sources tell me they’ve seen you in the company of several professors outside of class hours. Paired with news that you were ‘claimed’ by two Khans, it sounds like I should prepare for wedding bells?”

Wedding bells? Hera help me, what are her spies telling her, and how much do they know?

During her last call, Lucille fished for information about what shifters lived at Apex and how close I was to certain ones—namely Renard and Aubrey. She’s never specifically asked about my dating life, except to tell me she’ll basically have to sell me off. There’s something going on here and I don’t know what it is, but I have to be very careful how I approach her.

Lucille is many things, but stupid is not one of them—and she didn’t raise a fool, either.

“I don’t feel comfortable discussing my love life yet—everything is so new. I have made no commitments that would require a white dress, so don’t worry. After everything with Todd, I’m not ready to be serious with any one person.”

“Delores, don’t make this so antagonistic! I’m your mother, and I want you to be happy,” Lucille says, her voice dripping with saccharin sweetness.

Okay, what in the actual fuck is going on?

Lucille never speaks to me like this. She didn’t even speak to me like this as a baby—or so I’ve been told by Mattie. In fact, I’ve never heard my mother speak to me in anything but acerbic tones with condescending looks that translate over the phone.

What is her game?

“I am happy, and even though we haven’t defined our relationships the way you’d prefer, I have met men who treat me well. I’ve been on a few casual dates so far this semester. There’s nothing else to tell, Lucille.”

“Hmm” is all the answer I get.

I’m sure she wants the specifics, but until I know what her agenda is, I’m not giving up any details—even if only to lead her astray. She’s a crafty old leopard, and can’t be trusted. Information is currency to Lucille, and I’ve watched her use it to her advantage my entire life.

“Why did you call, Lucille? My grades are exemplary, and we’re coming up on final exams soon. I’m sure the Administration staff will report back to you, so there’s no need to follow up with me directly unless you’re unsatisfied.”

“Delores Diamond Drew, I am in no mood for your sass today!”

That sounds more like the Lucille I know and tolerate.

“All I want to know, daughter, is if you are happy and if you’re spending time with people who are equivalent to your stature. I don’t want to hear that you’re dating another mangy hyena who will shame our family in the public arena.”

Ah, there it is.

She’s worried I’m dating someone who is beneath my station, even though it’s perilous and by name only. All of my men would fit her criteria and then some, but for their exile—which doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. “I hate indulging your elitism, mother, but my dates aren’t from the wrong side of the tracks. I know that’s probably surprising given my… what do you call it… disability?”

The sparkling laugh echoing over the line again tells me she switched back to the loving mother personality that I know she isn’t. “Delores, this is why we fight. You don’t know how to take my sense of humor.”

Uh-huh.

“You realize Apex has more pressing issues than my sex life, right?” I reply, unable to keep the disgust from my tone. “There are sixteen missing students and a third dead body dropped from the rafters in the middle of my rehearsal. As a Council member, I’d think you’d care far more about dead kids than who I’m having dinner with.”

“Of course I am aware, Delores. I’m not living in a cave, nor am I profoundly stupid. Don’t insult me,” Lucille growls, noticeably not claiming to care. The shift in her tone means she’s done with the pretense; now I’ve questioned her authority, and she’s angry.

That makes two of us.

“I wanted to make sure that I was keeping you informed,” I purr, matching her fake sweetness, knowing it will rile her more, and not giving a fuck. “The campus is a very dangerous place, and the Council doesn’t seem interested in helping us. Staff members have been doing most of the policing. The professors seem to have gone into homework overdrive to keep us locked in our rooms, but what little security there is here falls woefully short.”

“This conversation has taken a turn, Delores, and I’m not interested in hearing you whine. It’s time you learned to defend yourself, like a true predator, and remember that even the people closest to you may be a threat. You’ve been a pampered heir for far too long, and this little ‘serial killer’ issue is the perfect thing to force you to sharpen your instincts and take action. We can’t have you ending up dead outside the Society tunnels like a lesser predator.”

She wants me to go up against a serial killer? No wonder I’m so fucked in the head.

Sucking in a deep breath, I rein in my temper. It’s not like it’s a surprise that Lucille truly doesn’t give a fuck if any of us die, as long as the school—and the families who fund it—look good. If I want to get her off the phone, I need to play nice. “I apologize, Lucille. I didn’t intend to be disrespectful.”

A delicate sniff, followed by a sigh, tells me I appeased her. “I only called you for a status report on your life, Delores, but it seems like you’ve developed an attitude problem. I’ve never heard you talk to me in this manner, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Fuck, now what am I going to say?

For unknown reasons, I decide to be honest. “I’m growing up, Lucille, and a lot has changed about me this year. I’m not the person I was when I came to Apex… under a death sentence.”

She pauses for a minute, as if considering, and for a moment, I think I’ve gotten through to her. “Yes, I believe you have changed. I’m uncertain if it’s for the better, but you have developed at least the beginning of a spine. You may have some Rostoff in you yet.”

I know she considers that high praise, but given the rumors I’ve heard about her family, I’m not sure that’s the direction I want to head. I thank her anyway, if only to get this painful conversation over with. “I appreciate the sentiment, mother. I will strive to be worthy of your family name, because I know it’s what you always wanted for me.”

Hopefully, that’s what she needs to hear.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never thought you would be worthy of my father’s name, and your emergence proved me right. However, at the very least, you can be less of a daily embarrassment.”

So much for that.

Seeing as I’m not free from this conversation yet, I grab my makeup bag and carry it out to the vanity so I can get ready while she babbles about the legacy of the Rostoffs. She’s never spoken about her family this openly before, so I may as well soak in the intel. I haven’t decided yet if I want to see if Rufus and Cori or my guys want to hang out, but I don’t want to look like a hot mess express, either way. I toss my hair into a ponytail and apply light concealer as Lucille continues to extol the virtues of her father’s business prowess.

“...my father’s family has been dominant in the export business for over three hundred years, Delores. We are a formidable power in Eastern Asia, and unlike your father, we don’t allow anyone to disrespect us. You are too weak to understand the strength a Rostoff woman has to embody to survive...”

“Yes, mother,” I mutter, as I add blush and smoky eye shadow and pull out my black eyeliner pencil. Ringing the insides of my lash line with the kohl, I look in the mirror, expecting to see the damaged girl Lucille’s moaning about.

Except…

Instead, I see a woman who had the confidence to completely remake herself into the person she wanted to be. From colorful hair to piercings and even the bad bunny tattoo on my butt, I made every choice. I’m startled to realize that I truly like what I see. It doesn’t matter if the Heathers or Todd or even my mother think I’m worthless anymore—I know I’m not. I have friends and boyfriends who like me for who I really am, not the plastic doll others tried to mold for their purposes.

I’ve wasted so much of my time on those who don’t deserve it.

The long-forgotten ‘ Fuck ‘Em Up, Sis ’ list shoved in my vanity drawer included my parents, but it was also full of those who wronged me at Shifter Secondary and Vom Prom. With a satisfied smirk, I realize I’ve defeated them all over the past year. I humiliated Gold and Todd in Shifter Studies. Pink failed with her little newspaper smear campaign, and the rest of them aren’t even worth the energy it would take to exact revenge.

No, the only worthy opponent here is Lucille.

She’s the one who didn’t properly teach me about life as a shifter, or prepare me for the position she swore I would take as her heir. My mother didn’t allow Mattie or anyone else to give me the tools to survive in our world—despite any claims otherwise.

I came to college without knowing my family history or even how other shifters behave. Everything that made me feel like an outsider at Apex wasn’t simply because I was a bunny; I was so sheltered that I wouldn’t have fit in even if I’d emerged as a predator. Lucille’s goal was always to make me feel useless.

So I’d be easier to manipulate.

I pull my ‘ Fuck ‘Em Up, Sis ’ list out of the drawer so I can look it over. This is the list of a young, brokenhearted girl who was lost, scared, and alone—someone with no support system and a trampled self-esteem. Someone who could only think about enacting sweeping vengeance for the way she was treated, instead of calculating moves.

That’s not who I am anymore.

Grinning to myself, I take the black eyeliner and cross everyone off the list… except Lucille. My mother wants to drone on about how a Rostoff woman has to be strong?

Well, she isn’t ready for the one she created.

With that, I add winged liner to my look and a bright pink lipstick that matches my outfit. On a whim, I press my lips to the bottom of the paper, sealing it with a spiteful kiss. Deciding this saucy aesthetic will be my ongoing inspiration, I rummage around for tape so I can hang it on my mirror, as a visual reminder of my sharpened focus. I don’t see any, but there is a pack of gum, so I pop in a stick and chew for a few moments as I listen to see if Lucille has taken a breath yet.

Nope, still droning on about her father. It’s almost Oedipal, I fucking swear.

I spit the gum out and use the wad to stick the updated list to the glass, grinning at the image. It will remind me I am worthy of love and friendship, even if my bitchy mother doesn’t agree. I will not let her abuse me anymore—we will play her games on my terms, as equal opponents.

Delores Diamond Drew has had enough. I’m a Rostoff now, bitch.

From now on, I’m going to do exactly what she suggested. I’m going to summon the inner strength to take control of my life, starting with figuring out how to keep more students from dying. If the Council and their lackeys won’t protect us, then we have to do it ourselves. Hiding in the dorms isn’t fixing anything, and I’m tired of running scared—like prey.

My lips curve as I pick up my phone, looking at it for a moment before I unceremoniously hang-up. Turning the ringer on silent, I drop it in the purse on my dresser, deciding once I figure out my plans, I won’t look at it again for the rest of the night.

Lucille Rostoff may be the enemy, but she’s no longer the boss of me.

A loud knock on my door has me freezing in place. For one frantic moment, I assume Lucille has somehow already sent Bruiser over here to punish me, but even she doesn’t work that fast. Staying absolutely still, I sniff the air, trying to determine who is in the hallway before they can scent me in return. I refuse to let anyone intimidate me or steer me away from my newfound confidence or mission. No matter what challenges come my way, I will solve the mystery of what’s going on at Apex Academy once and for all.

I may not be Nancy Drew, but I’d make a pretty decent Velma.