Page 101 of The Ruthless Rivalry

There it is.

It’s short, clipped, barely more than a breath—but it’s more than anyone else has said.

I look at her for a long moment, still hesitant. But then I notice her gold watch glinting in the dimming light.

“Fine,” I finally say, grabbing the bag from her hand.

Sutton’s smile widens immediately, the tension in her shoulders relaxing as she hands the bag over. She’s practically glowing with relief as she scurries off, all but skipping back to her group.

Aubrey watches the exchange with raised eyebrows, clearly surprised that I actually took the bag. I can tell she’s itching to ask, but before she can get a word out, I flash the gold watch hidden in my hand—Sutton’s watch.

Her eyes widen for a split second before her lips curl into a sly smirk. “Nice,” she says with an approving nod. “You really are sneaky, you know that?”

I shrug, twirling the watch around my finger. “Hey, I figured if she was going to give me something, I might as well take something in return. Fair’s fair.”

She laughs, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Ruthless. I like it.”

My gaze flickers back to Sutton just as she’s rejoining the others. She glances over her shoulder and catches my eye, smiling like we were square now. Like the apology had wiped the slate clean.

For a split second, something flickers in my chest—remorse, maybe. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because she’d actually said sorry. The only one who had.

Still, that flicker dies almost as fast as it sparked. One apology didn’t erase what they’d done. Not yet.

As we walk over to grab the last of the supplies, I notice the cliffs in the distance. The same ones Sylvester had taken meto before. But now they’re packed with about a dozen students laughing and joking around. My eyes fix on one of them as they jump off the steep edge, disappearing into the rough water below. I watch for a few moments until their head finally pops up above the water, greeted by loud cheers from their friends still standing at the top.

Aubrey catches me staring, a grin pulling at the corners of her lips. “That looks like fun, right?” she asks, her voice filled with excitement.

I tilt my chin, shaking my head. “Fun? More like a death wish.”

“You just don’t think it’s a good idea because you can’t swim,” Aubrey points out, teasing.

I cross my arms. “Maybe. But, mostly…I don’t know, last time I checked, not-drowning was kind of a priority.” Plunging into the water at that height? Yeah, it ranks somewhere between stepping on a thousand pushpins and swallowing a handful of broken glass. Not exactly my idea of a good time.

“Where’s your sense of adventure? I bet it’s thrilling!”

“My sense of fun doesn’t extend to activities that involve potential death,” I reply, tearing my gaze away from the imposing cliffs and jagged water below.

“You’re being dramatic.”

I’m about to respond when Aubrey suddenly gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. I turn just in time to see Christopher leap off the cliff.

For a second, my stomach drops. There’s no way he’s coming back up from that. The water below is rough, and I can’t stop imagining the worst.

But a second later, Christopher’s head breaks the surface of the water, and he laughs, throwing his arms up with a cheerful holler. Aubrey stares at him, eyes wide, disbelief mixing with a hint of frustration. “You’re right. Jumping off there is stupid,” she says, her tone sharp.

I watch as she turns her back on him—not that he even noticed.

Chapter 22

Alex

The next morning, I climb out of bed and notice even Dolores’s leafy green arms seem to be reaching up with enthusiasm. After showering and getting ready for the day, I decide to follow suit. After yesterday, Aubrey’s club section is almost complete, with her and the rest of the members finishing up today after classes.

Before heading to my morning class,Oceanic Reflection, I make a quick stop at the dining hall to grab a coffee, which has been my saving grace lately. The warmth and caffeine help me power through the chilly mornings and keep my focus intact.Well, mostly. I’m still frustrated with Bishop in more ways than one.

As I enter the large room, it’s buzzing with the usual clatter of students gathered around tables. But something feels off today. The typical chatter has softened into hushed whispers.

I catch sight of a group of students in the corner, all talking in low voices, their eyes flicking up. Curiosity pulls me in, and I follow their gaze, locking on to the small mezzanine where the Legacy group is perched. Camden and Sutton are the only two up there this morning.

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