Page 40 of The Bleak Beginning

The deep rumble of his chest echoes in my ears, sending a deep shiver down my spine as he continues to study me with unwavering intensity. His eyes are solely fixed on me. For me.

Why wasn't I moving? I had ventured further into the water than I intended, trying to show him I wouldn't back down under his scrutiny. But my body seemed to have a different agenda, wanting him closer while also longing for the safety of dry land.

“I...” I start, but the words catch in my throat as Bishop steps closer. The animosity in his gaze is still there, but somethingelse has seeped in—something darker, more dangerous, more... desirable.

The water reaches higher up my thigh, and the current pulls at me more insistently. But I'm rooted to the spot, unable to move as Bishop's gaze holds me captive.

“Yes?” he urges, his voice rough and conflicted. He's so close now I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the strong tick of his jaw.

“I...” I try again, but the words won't come. A rush of adrenaline surges through me. A rapid thud echoing in my chest, and I'm not sure if it's from the fear of the water or from Bishop's proximity. Maybe both.

Like a predator closing in on its prey, he takes another step towards me, the water swirling violently around us. The space between us narrows until it's almost nonexistent, the tension thick and suffocating. The current hits just below my belly button now, and I can feel the panic rising in my throat. But there's something else too, a warmth spreading through me despite the cold water.

“What's the matter, Prescott?” Bishop's voice is gravely, almost a growl. “Has that pretty little mouth of yours finally run out of insults?”

Pretty little mouth? Since when did Bishop think anything about me was pretty?

My lips part, ready to retort, but before I can react, he leans down, his face hovering dangerously close to mine. His heated breath brushes my skin, and I brace for whatever’s next. But then, I catch the subtle shift in his eyes—something behind the malice.

But just as quickly as it appears, the glimmer is gone, replaced by the same cold hatred. Before I can fully process the shift, a powerful wave crashes into us, knocking us off our feet and plunging us into the cold depths of the water.

I try to regain my balance, but the force of it is too strong. Panic sets in as I feel myself being dragged under, struggling against the relentless current. The cold water closes over my head, and for a moment, all I can hear is the dull roar of the water and my own frantic heartbeat.

My limbs flail wildly as I try to keep my head above water. The taste of briny liquid fills my mouth, and I sputter, desperately trying to breathe. The water here has nothing beneath it for me to latch onto.

“Look, she’s drowning already,” I hear Ophelia’s mocking voice from the shore. “Should we start a betting pool on how long she’ll last?”

I plunge underneath again. The water is icy against my skin. Everything around me appears distorted and blurred, the shapes and colors moving and merging together. As more cold water rushes into my mouth, my tongue automatically tries to push it out, but it’s no use. The taste lingers, coating my throat and making it burn as it blankets my tastebuds and goes up my nose.

As I flounder, the world above seems to fade away. I can only hear the muffled sound of bubbles and distant waves crashing against the shore. My own frantic pulse fills my ears, a reminder of the danger I’m in.

The chill of the water sears my skin and steals my thoughts, my body thrashing in a desperate struggle against the depths.

Suddenly the water parts, and a pair of arms appear before they wrap around my waist and tug us both up.

Gasping for air, I break the surface, coughing and sputtering as my rescuer hauls me toward the shore. My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision.

“I’ve got you,” a voice rumbles beside me. I turn my head to see Atlas, his hair plastered to his forehead, his expression a mix of concern and exasperation.

As we reach the shallows, I stumble to my feet, my legs wobbly as I touch sweet, solid ground. Atlas keeps a steadying hand on my elbow as we trudge further onto the beach.

“Well, that was certainly an impressive display of aquatic grace,” Ophelia drawls, her arms crossed over her chest. “I particularly enjoyed the flailing arms bit. Very avant-garde.”

I glare at her, too breathless to do anything else.

“Three Saturdays for you as well, Miss Verdant.” Atlas says, not missing a beat as we shuffle past, and I sink my butt down onto the sand and continue to catch my breath. “Take it easy,” he murmurs gently.

Oxygen, I love you.

“Three Saturdays?” Ophelia sputters in disbelief. “For what?”

Atlas’s grip on my elbow tightens slightly. “For your less-than-helpful commentary, and improper shoes for today’s lesson.”

Ophelia’s mouth drops open in indignation, and I’m so exhausted I can’t even properly enjoy her punishment.

But where was Bishop? He had been caught in the strong wave too, but just moments before that, I could have sworn he wanted to...I swallow down those thoughts like the lump in my throat. After nothing. He was an asshole and nothing more.

I didn't intend to, but my eyes seem to have a will of their own as they scanned the shoreline, looking for my shadow’s frame among the other students. He's nowhere to be seen. A mix of relief and disappointment washes over me, which I quickly push aside. I shouldn't care where he is or what he's doing. Idon’tcare.

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