Page 62 of The Bleak Beginning

Passing a few of my teammates chatting outside with a few lingering fans, I wave before heading in the opposite direction.

The puddles beneath my feet splash with each step, mingling with the constant drizzle from above. I pull my tracksuit jacket tighter around me, though it does little to ward off the chill that seeps into my bones.

As I round the corner, I catch sight of a familiar silhouette leaning against a lamppost.

I force a smile, trying to ignore the twist of disappointment in my gut. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She pushes off the lamppost, her blonde hair bouncing beneath her headband as she closes the distance between us. “We need to talk.”

“We’ve already gone over this, Sutton,” I remind her, tugging my hood up.

“Well, I want to go over it again.”

I sigh. “Can’t this wait? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Sutton’s eyes thin, her lips pressing into a flat line. “No, it can’t.”

I glance around, noting the few stragglers still milling about. “Fine. But not here. Let’s go somewhere dry at least.”

We walk in tense silence, the rhythmic patter of rain on cobblestone our only accompaniment. I lead us to the library, its soft, warm lights a beacon in the gloomy afternoon. As we step inside, the rich aroma of coffee envelops us, a stark contrast to the damp chill outside.

We find a secluded corner booth, and I drop my bag and shrug off my jacket. Sutton sits across from me. “You want anything to drink from the cart?” I offer, but she shakes her head, and I go to grab my own.

I return with a steaming cup of black coffee, its warmth seeping into my hands as I settle back into my seat. Sutton’s eyes follow my movements, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the table.

“Alright,” I say, taking a sip and wincing as it burns my tongue. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until I was dry and warm?”

Sutton leans forward, her voice quiet. “I think you’re wrong about her.”

My stomach drops, but I keep my face neutral. “We aren’t. We know what we’re doing.”

Sutton’s eyes flash with frustration. “Do you? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re all making a mistake.”

I take another sip of my coffee, buying time to choose my words carefully. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but this isn’t your decision to make. We’ve been over this countless times.”

“You made a decision based on incomplete information,” she hisses, leaning closer. “You don’t know everything.”

I feel my jaw clench. Alex has been here for all of five minutes and Sutton thinks she knows her. Damn, the girl has even got Bishop keeping secrets. I mean, he’s like that anyway, but what was that about this morning?

How can we support him if he doesn’t share what happens with us so that we can effectively provide back up? We were supposed to be a team.

This girl is bad news, and we need her out.

No, my mind would not be changed.

“And you do?” I counter, raising an eyebrow.

She hesitates, then nods slowly. “I think I’m beginning to.”

I feel a flicker of unease, but I push it down. “You don’t, I promise.”

“Neither do you!” Sutton’s voice rises, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables.

“Keep your voice down,” I warn, glancing around suspiciously. The last thing we need is for this conversation to be overheard.

She takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. “Look, I know you think you’re protecting them, but—”

“But nothing,” I cut in. “Alex Prescott is bad news for Altair.” For Legacies. For everyone.

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