Prey Novel Novels & Stories

“Today we tried real food.” Daenerys clapped. Daemon yawned. The palace kitchen was quiet, sunlight pouring in through tall windows and painting the room gold. I loved these moments, the rare pockets of peace when I could forget everything weighing down on me. The pregnancy. The secrets. The war Morris was constantly preparing for, even when he didn’t say it out loud. I scooped a little mash onto a tiny wooden spoon and offered it to Daemon first. He sniffed it, frowned, then opened his mouth like a baby bird.

YRENE'S POV The stares continued and soon enough, they morphed into little giggles. I looked at Kaden's. Of course, he had gotten the role of predator. Reece and Ethan were also predators. It was then I began to suspect that they weren't randomly picked. They were checked. Because if the brothers were made Preys, they would get absolutely angry and that wouldn't be good, so it was safer to make people like me the prey. A few girls were also made prey and I was surprised to see that Fran was also a prey. She was talking to a pretty girl who was a predator and they were laughing.

After begging my dad for the 100th time to let me come back home for school, he finally gave in. Before the semester started, he warned me repeatedly. “There is an underground clique around campus. Every year, they single out one freshman who attracts too much attention and make that person their punching bag. “They are careful about covering their tracks. We’ve looked into them for a long time and still have nothing solid. Keep your head down and watch your back.” I nodded, then I remembered that I had recently joined the incoming-freshman group chat. I opened it and intended to ask if anyone knew anything about the clique, only to discover that someone had tagged me. [Damn, we found

Mine. Table four was two truckers. Harmless. I refilled their mugs, dropped the check, and turned— The bell chimed again. The air changed. It was like someone opened a freezer door in the middle of the Mojave. The hairs on my arms stood up. The diner went quiet. Forks paused mid-air. Predator. My wolfless body didn’t have enhanced senses, but it remembered them. It remembered _him_. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t—

An ivory knitted blanket was folded neatly across one arm, as though someone expected to return and finish a chapter after a quick walk. You have her eyes. The words kept circling back, pacing around my mind like a caged animal. A murderer doesn't spare a witness because of her eyes. Eyes don't stop bullets. Eyes don't change anything in a world where families get slaughtered over dinner. I pressed my palms to my temples, trying to force the thoughts out, and moved toward the bathroom. Survival first. Always. I had read enough novels to know that the heroine usually missed the obvious because she fell apart too soon. I wouldn't do that.

"After the papers are signed next week, you'll receive the first anniversary gift from the Donna." Outside the window, the rain gradually stopped. The hunter had already closed the net, leaving the prey still sleeping peacefully in the gentle trap, unaware.

I help her lift it up, and that is when we see the book that is just sitting there in the sand. I hear Nova's breathing seize. “What's that?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. I look around one more time, making sure that we aren't being watched, as I pull the book out of the sand, dusting off the cover. There isn't a name. As I open the book and flip through the pages, they are slightly damp, with almost all the pages empty. I get to the middle, and that is when I see the first drop of ink in the book. The handwriting is more or less scribbling, but I can clearly read everything.