Page 11 of The Bleak Beginning

The lounging man finally stood, stretching languidly. “You may have earned your spot bloodline wise, but socially?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “That’s a whole different game.”

Hadn’t that girl, Sutton, mentioned something about games earlier? Was this related to that?

Bishop’s eyes never left my face. His stare fixed on me, unblinking. “You should have stayed away, Prescott. Altair isn’t a place your family is welcome anymore.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Sylvester sidled up next to me, his breath hot on my face. “It means you’re out of your depth, babes. Daddy’s sins have a long reach, and it would appear you’ve been sent to pay for them.”

I stepped away from Sylvester, my skin crawling at his accusations. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’tcare. I’m not here to play whatever twisted games you all seem to be involved in.”

Bishop’s eyes darkened. “Ignorance won’t earn you any favors here. What your family did was unforgivable.”

“Then enlighten me,” I challenged, my voice firm. “What exactly did he do that’s got you all so worked up?”

The three students exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Bishop spoke. “Your father broke the most sacred rule of Altair. He betrayed his own kind.”

Sylvester chuckled darkly at my obvious confusion. “She really doesn’t know anything, does she? This is great. What do you say, Camden? Bishop? Should we enlighten her?”

Camden, the one who had been lounging earlier, stepped forward. His eyes gleamed with a predatory light. “I think we should. After all, it’s only fair she knows what she’s walked into. Makes it more fun…for us, anyway.”

My breath hitches, but I refused to show weakness, keeping my tone breezy. “I’m not interested in your cryptic bullshit. If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Your father,” Bishop spat, “sold our families out. He abandoned our parents, forced them to forfeit the Altair games. He tarnished our legacy.”

The Altair games? Legacy? What the hell were they talking about? My dad never mentioned anything like this. As far as I knew, he was just a regular businessman who’d attended this university years ago.

“You’re lying,” I snapped back. “He would never—”

“But he did,” Sylvester interrupted, his voice dripping with malice. “And now you’re here, blissfully unaware of the damage he’s done. It’s almost poetic, really.”

Camden circled around me. “The question is, what are we going to do about it? After all, you’re here now. A Prescott, back at Altair after all these years.”

I felt trapped, surrounded by these men who seemed to know more about my family’s history than I did. My mind raced, trying to make sense of their cryptic words. Games, betrayal, legacy—none of it fit with the image I had of my father.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, my voice steady, despite the tension bubbling inside me.

A cruel laugh escaped Bishop, one that made my spine stiffen with unease. “Your naivety is almost endearing,” he said, leaning back, but I felt no relief. Every harsh word only seemed to make him more compelling, and I despised how something deep in my gut fluttered while I was this near to him. Just like last night, his body language exuded confidence and charisma, commanding attention even in the dark.

What fresh hell had I stumbled into?

“Your father may have sheltered you from the truth, but that doesn’t change what happened,” he said, voice as cruel and brutal as before. “The Altair games are sacred, a tradition you are no longer welcomed to. We don’t want you, so don’t bother trying to join our team,” he sneers.

“I have no interest in being involved with you or your silly games.”

Bishop’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You mock what you don’t understand. The Altair games are far more than some childish pastime. They’re a test of skill, cunning, and loyalty. Your father failed on all counts.”

I felt goosebumps break out across my arms at his words, but other than that, I refused to show fear. “Look, I don’t know what kind of cult you’re running here, but I want no part of it. Whatever my dad supposedly did, it has nothing to do with me.”

Sylvester let out a low whistle. “You really think it’s that simple? That you can just waltz onto this campus and pretend the past doesn’t exist?”

Camden stepped closer, baring his teeth. “Your very presence here is an insult to everything we stand for. To the sacrifices our families have made.”

Whatever. I’m sure this would be a whole lot more intimidating if I actually knew who their families were in relation to my own.

“Are we done here?” I ask shaking the box of dye in my hand. “I’ve got some rules to follow, apparently.”

Bishop’s eyes flicked to the box. “Ah yes, Maxwell’s rules of conformity. Tell me, Prescott, how does it feel to have even your small acts of freedom stripped away?”

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