Page 34 of The Ruthless Rivalry

I narrow my eyes, studying him. “Was it? Funny, because I’m pretty sure it was less than a week ago.”

He falters, just for a second, before flashing that usual cocky grin. “I’m just offering to walk you over. No strings.”

I don’t buy it. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still your mess, not mine.” I stand firm.

Sylvester’s expression hardens, the casual smirk fading as he crosses his arms. “It’s not just about me,” he says, voice growing more authoritative. “Go change into something warmer.”

I don’t bother hesitating this time. I slam the door in his face.

But just as I reach to lock it, he forces the door open with a determined shove.

“Should I toss you over my shoulder again? Don’t tempt me,” he threatens, his voice laced with challenge.

A wave of irritation rolls through me.

I take a step back, not afraid, but making my stance clear. “You wouldn’t dare,” I say coolly, though there’s a flicker of hesitation in my voice. I know he would. He already has.

Sylvester steps closer, not backing off, his eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place—excitement, maybe? “Try me,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a hint of a challenge in there that makes me want to call his bluff.

I stand tall, not backing down. “I’m not some obedient little puppy for you to drag around. Unlike you and the other Legacies, who are always bending to Bishop’s will, doing whatever he says like mindless drones. I’m not like you.”

His lips curl into a sharp laugh, one that feels almost like a challenge in itself. “You think we just do whatever Bishop says?” His voice hardens, a little defensive now. “We’re equals, Alex. We don’t follow orders, we make them.”

I stare at him, incredulous. Equals? Please. I’ve seen enough to know I’m not wrong. “Each of you are playing his game, he’s just great at pretending you’re not.”

Sylvester steps even closer, he’s not backing down. “You’re coming tonight, whether you like it or not. I’ve given you more than enough chances to play nice.”

Before I can respond, his hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist with surprising gentleness, but there’s an unyielding force behind it that makes it clear he’s not asking anymore.

I wrench my wrist back, but his grip tightens, just enough to remind me that he’s not letting go. His eyes lock onto mine, and there’s something dangerous about the calm in his expression.

“You can keep fighting this, but it won’t get you anywhere,” he says, his voice low and steady, a hint of finality in his tone. “You’re going. It’s already decided.”

I grit my teeth, trying to pull away, but it’s useless. He’s stronger than me—he knows it, and so do I.

“Let go of me,” I snap, my voice trembling with frustration.

Sylvester doesn’t even flinch, his grip still firm around my wrist. “I don’t think you’re hearing me. This isn’t just about you and me. It’s about your grade. We’re not in this situation just because you hate the idea of tutoring sessions, but you do need to catch up on Altair’s history. This isn’t a punishment, it’s a requirement.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes even though I know he’s right. “I know what it’s for,” I mutter. “But it’s not like I’m going to magically start caring just because you’re dragging me to a lesson.”

His lips twitch into a smirk as he studies me. “It’s not about caring. It’s about surviving. The sooner you can prove to O’Donnelly that you know your stuff, the sooner these one-on-ones are over.” He pauses, watching me carefully. “You want that, don’t you? To stop wasting your time with me?”

His words hit harder than they should. The thought of not having to deal with him anymore, of finally getting out of this mess, is tempting. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy on him.

“Fine,” I snap, my jaw clenched. “But don’t act like I owe you anything for this.”

Sylvester’s expression softens slightly, the hint of a grin returning to his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, babes.” He finally releases my wrist and takes a step back.

“This better not turn into another one of your stupid power plays…” The warning is clear on my tongue.

He shrugs casually, clearly unfazed. “I’m just trying to help you get out of this. And believe it or not, thisisme being nice.”

I don’t respond, but my mind is already ticking, knowing he’s right. The sooner I prove I know the history of this stupid university, the sooner this whole nightmare will be over. Well, at least one of them will be.

“Let’s go, then,” I demand, turning toward the door.

Sylvester’s eyes gleam as he steps into my path. “You know, if you’re really trying todestressbefore all this, I’m sure I could offer some…alternatives to the history lessons. Worked pretty well for you last time, didn’t it?”

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