Page 53 of The Bleak Beginning

I clench my jaw, cursing my mother’s big mouth. “My mother doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

She does, but I wasn’t in the mood to get into that with Ophelia tonight.

“Fine,” she snaps, snatching up her shoes and blanket. “Then I guess I’ll see you around.”

She storms off down the beach, her bare feet kicking up sand. I watch her go, not feeling a single twinge of regret. In my life there’d never been any use for true emotions.

I followed the path along the shoreline back to the party.

Cam had his hand underneath some girl’s shirt. Not that she seemed to mind, since she was trying to swallow his face with her tongue.

Avoiding them, I take a seat next to Sly on an old tree log as he wordlessly hands me a beer. The fire feels warm against my skin. The flames helping against the chill of the night air and waters breeze.

“Thanks,” I mutter, popping the cap off and taking a long swig. The bitter liquid slides down my throat, a familiar comfort.

Sly nods, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames. “So, you piss off Ophelia?” he asks. “She stormed back here pretty upset for someone who just got fucked.”

I shrug, nonchalant. “She knows where I stand. If she chooses not to believe it, that’s on her.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “You’re a cold bastard, Ashbourne. But I get it. Can’t let anyone get too close, right?”

I grunt in response, taking another swig of beer. Sly understands better than most. We’ve been friends since childhood, each of us a Legacy groomed for this from birth. He knows the pressure, the expectations.

“Speaking of, you know that senior I hooked up with a few times? Well, turns out in her post orgasm bliss she spilled some info on what to expect this year for the games.”

I turned to look at him, my interest piqued. “What’s that?”

Sly leans in closer, speaking in a hushed tone, despite the privacy of our campfire. It’s just the two of us, but we can never be too cautious. “Word is, they’re changing things up this year. New challenges, higher stakes.”

A thrill of excitement runs through me, mixed with a healthy dose of apprehension. I wasn’t surprised that the teachers felt the need to do this, seeing as we would all be playing together in the same year.

The Altair games had always been intense for the juniors that take part every year, a brutal test of our abilities, but especially for Legacy students. But if what Sly’s saying is true, this year could be a whole new level of dangerous.

“Any specifics?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, despite the sudden tension in my gut.

He shakes his head. “Not much. But she did mention something about ‘real-world consequences.’ Whatever that means.”

I lean back, mulling over his words. Real-world consequences. That could mean anything from public exposure to actual life-or-death situations. The university has always pushed boundaries, but this…this feels different.

“You think they’re trying to weed us out?” I muse, more to myself than to Sly.

He shrugs, his usual cocky grin faltering for a moment. “Maybe. Or maybe they’re preparing us for something bigger.”

Or they were trying to stop what happened to my mother and her games from happening all over again.

It was rare to have all four Legacy families in the same grade level to compete together. It’s only happened less than a handful of times in our university’s long history, so the expectations for us this year were higher than high.

“You think they’re grooming us for something specific?” I ask, my voice low.

Sly tosses a stick into the fire, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Who knows.”

We lapse into silence, the crackling of the fire and the sound of waves filling the air. I take another drink, willing the alcohol to dull my thoughts of the unknown.

The games have always been more than just a school competition—they’re a proving ground for future operatives, spies, and leaders. If the stakes are being raised, it’s for a reason.

A twig snaps behind us, and we both whirl around, instincts kicking in. Cam emerges from the shadows, his dark hair gleaming in the firelight. He and his plaything for the evening must’ve finished up.

“Discussing the games without me?” he asks, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

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