Page 119 of The Ruthless Rivalry

I walk faster, driven by the raw anger coursing through me. My thoughts are a blur, my body moving on autopilot. How much time has passed? I don’t know. I don’t care. The only thing that matters isthis—getting closer to something, tohim. My feet carry me, turning corners, moving forward without purpose or thought, just pure instinct.

And then, without warning, I stop.

My hand brushes against a door handle, the cold metal fitting into my palm with a strange sense of familiarity. I stare at it for a moment, the gnawing feeling of wrongness pulling at the edges of my mind. But I don’t hesitate. I glance up, my breath caught in my chest, and the reality of it hits me like a punch to the gut.

It’s not the door I thought it was.

But then again, maybe it’s exactly where I’m meant to be.

A dark, twisted grin pulls at my lips. My mind must know what it’s doing, even if my feet led me here unconsciously. The door swings open with a harsh yank, the sound of it echoing in the quiet.

The wardrobe room. The backstage of the theater.

Bishop’s face flashes in my mind, the memory of him sneering as he told me to sit front row at tomorrow’s event. To watch. To bethere.

Well, now I’m here. And I won’t just sit and watch. I’m going to make sure everyone sees.

My fingers curl around the doorframe, and I step inside. The smell of dust and fabric hits me immediately, but I barely notice. My thoughts are spinning—too fast, too chaotic. I know what I’m about to do. I know what it means.

This isn’t about sitting quietly anymore.

Bishop wanted to make me a spectator, but I’m about to make my own entrance.

The door slams behind me with finality, and in that moment, everything feels like it’s shifting. I can’t quite explain it, but I’m done. If there’s one thing Bishop has taught me, it’s that to catch a predator, you can’t stay the prey; you have to match it, become its equal in every way.

Tomorrow’s show? It’s mine now.

And as the room swallows me up in its dim light, I can’t help but let the smile grow. It’s twisted, maybe—it doesn’t matter. I’ve made my choice.

Let them allwatch. Let them all feel the consequences of their actions.

Chapter 26

Sylvester

It’s the day we’ve all been waiting for—the day when the Legacies get to choose our teammates for the Altair Games. The day we’ve spent our entire lives preparing for. Once we make our selections, we’ll be one step closer to the ultimate goal: competing in, and conquering, the games we’ve dreamed of since birth.

I can’t help but bounce on the balls of my feet, my excitement practically radiating off my every pore as we wait backstage. My smile is wide, but my nerves are just as palpable, like I can’t decide if I’m about to burst from adrenaline or if the weight of what’s about to happen is finally hitting me. “Can you believe it’shere?” I say, my voice cracking slightly with nerves. “Feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

Sutton offers me a half-smile, but it’s clear her thoughts are elsewhere. “Yeah, it’s here,” she agrees, though her tone lacks the same fire. Her expression faltering just for a second.

“You’ve been quiet since yesterday,” I observe, glancing sideways at her. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just…you know, the fire and everything. It’s been heavy.”

I nod, my excitement dimming just a touch as I remember. We’re all still feeling it in our own way—what happened yesterday. The fire, the panic, the students still recovering from the trauma, the weight of everything unresolved. But today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be about us. About the games. And the whole Legacy thing we were raised to embody.

Before I can say anything else, Chancellor Maxwell steps onto the stage, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The lights in the auditorium dim, and the crowd goes silent. My stomach flutters—part nerves, part anticipation. This was it.

Chancellor Maxwell’s voice booms over the speakers, clear and authoritative. “Good morning, students,” she begins. “Today marks the start of a milestone for all of you. Today is the day we begin choosing our teams for this year’s Altair Games. However, before we move forward, some of you may notice that one of your peers is missing today. Rest assured, they are receiving top care and round-the-clock medical attention. There is no need to worry.”

A heavy silence follows her words. Despite the usual excitement that accompanies the start of this event, the room still feels weighted. The absence of that missing student—along with the lingering memories of the fire—is enough to pull theenergy down, even in the face of the grand tradition we’re about to continue.

I nudge Cam, my excitement slowly creeping back. “Here we go.”

Bishop, who’ll be the first one called to the stage, stands across from us with his usual poise, but there’s a subtle tension in his posture. His sharp glances toward the curtains are quick, almost imperceptible, and his eyes scan the packed auditorium with a deliberate focus.

“Who’s he looking for?” Cam asks under his breath, as he observes Bishop’s behavior. I glance at him, unsure if he’s asking me or if he’s talking to himself.

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