Page 57 of The Bleak Beginning

As I walk along the cobblestone pathway, I can’t help but replay the events of the evening in my mind.

The trophy had been impressive, no doubt about it. It was perfect except for the name engraved right above mine.

Prescott.

Why was she still here? I thought after I saw her storm her way into Maxwell’s office earlier that she was going to call it quits after her little near-drowning incident.

I snort. I blame her father for not teaching her how to swim. Everyone here knew at least the basics. It was like knowing howto breathe, it’s basically a requirement to survive at Altair. But I suppose that’s what happens when you grow up banished.

Prescott. The name tastes bitter on my tongue, like an overripe fruit gone sour.

I needed her out of my sight to focus on what truly mattered—reclaiming our title in the games. But this morning, her cheeks flushed with fear as the water rose, consuming us in its grasp. I’d forced her deeper into the waves, the pull of the current threatening to swallow us whole.

God, she looked so fucking helpless—fragile, like a delicate flower being crushed under the weight of a storm, her vulnerability raw and undeniable. Just the thought of it made my pulse quicken. My body responded, hard and demanding, at the memory of her trapped beneath me, her fear so palpable.

Her mouth parted, desperate to say something—anything—but unable to make a sound. But her eyes... those hauntingly beautiful eyes stayed with me, their color reminiscent of golden nectar. They gazed up at me through thick lashes that fluttered in my direction.

Those damn eyes were going to fuck me over.

I kick a loose stone, watching it skitter across the uneven pavement outside her dormitory. The sound echoes off the wooden porch, matching the restless rhythm of my thoughts.

Prescott doesn’t belong here. She’s a danger, a liability. And yet Maxwell seems determined to keep her around. What does she see in her that I’m missing?

I pause, glancing up at the towering spires of her side of the dormitory. The moon casts long shadows across the dark room.

Before I can stop myself, I put out the cigarette and find myself climbing the stairs up to her room. I blame my foggy mind for leading me here, convincing myself that I just need to see the damage with my own eyes.

Her room is pitch black, save for a sliver of moonlight cutting across the floor.

Stepping inside, I’m struck by the plastic dust barriers and fans whirring, several running at high speed in the room. No doubt to try to dry out the space. My eyes shift to the ceiling, finding a spot above her bed a different color than the rest of her ceiling from where they’d fixed the damage.

I bite back my grin at the impressive size of the now-filled hole. It was nearly the length of her bed.

My eyes drift down to the bed itself, expecting to find Prescott curled up in a pathetic ball, nursing her bruised ego. But the mattress is empty, the sheets rumpled and pushed to one side.

I snort again, wondering how she’s enjoying her night in the supply closet.

The thought of Prescott huddled among mops and cleaning supplies brings a tinge of pride to my chest. Hope she’s not as afraid of rats as she is water.

I find my eyes once again checking out her space.

A crumpled piece of paper near the desk catches my attention and I stride across the room in three quick moves. Snatching it up, I smooth out the wrinkles, squinting to read in the dim light.

Idiots.

The single word scrawled in hasty handwriting in a large font.

Suddenly, I feel the slight tug of a thin, clear string attached to the paper.

The blood in my veins thins as a cascade of water crashes down from above, drenching me in an instant. I sputter and gasp as the deluge continues.

Fury rises in my chest, hot and overwhelming. How dare she? How dare this insignificant little nothing set a trap for me?

“She thinks this is funny?” I snarl to the empty room as I shake out my now soaked limbs.

I wipe my eyes as I start to walk away, but then I feel a pull on my ankle. Suddenly, one of the fans kick into high gear with a loud snap. A vat of glitter explodes in front of me like a bomb, coating everything in my path.

I catch my appearance in her full-length mirror. The glitter clings to my wet skin and clothes, transforming me into a sparkling, dripping mess.

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