Page 44 of The Ruthless Rivalry

“You did it!” My partner’s voice is filled with excitement. “You can take off the blindfold now. We’ve crossed the finish line!”

My hands fly to the soft fabric, yanking it off. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust to the sudden shift in brightness. Reith stands before me, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him, I can see other pairs still struggling through the course.

“We did it,” I breathe, a smile spreading across my face as the adrenaline begins to fade.

Reith laughs and pulls me into a quick hug and high five. “Of course we did.”

I look around, taking in the obstacle course we just conquered. The rope swing dangles innocently behind us, it no longer seems as daunting now that I can see it. Other pairs are still navigating the course with shouts and laughter.

“Did we win?” I ask, breathless.

“Not quite,” Reith says with a chuckle, “but we definitely did alright. Look.”

He points to where Atlas stands, marking down other students on a clipboard. We’re the second pair to finish.

“Second place,” I say, a smile spreading across my face. “Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” Reith raises an eyebrow. “That was incredible! You should have seen yourself on that rope swing,” he continues, his eyes shining with excitement. “It was like watching a pro. I barely had to guide you at all.”

I feel a flush of pride at his words, but before I can respond, we hear a commotion from the course behind us. Turning, we see Ophelia stumbling across the finish line, a disgruntled-looking Bishop stomping just behind her.

“Finally!” Ophelia exclaims, ripping off her blindfold. Her usually styled hair is disheveled, and there’s a smudge of sand on her cheek. “I thought we’d never make it through this stupid course.”

Bishop trudges past her, not sparing her another glance as he heads for the boathouse. “We’d be done by now if someone hadn’t insisted on taking a left every time I saidright,” he mutters, his voice dripping with exasperation, before disappearing inside.

I can’t help but laugh at their bickering. “Well, at least you made it,” I say, forcing a sweet smile. “That’s something, right?”

Ophelia glares at me, still fuming. “Easy for you to say. I’m sure Reith was asaintthe entire time.”

“He was,” I confirm with a grin, sending him a warm smile. He gives a soft chuckle, his cheeks tinged pink.

“Unlikesomepeople,” Ophelia mutters under her breath, brushing excess sand off her uniform.

“Alright, everyone! Gather ’round, gather ’round,” Atlas announces loudly. Then, with a sigh, he adds, “Well, I suppose that was an enjoyable experience for everyone, wasn’t it?”

Some students look triumphant, others disappointed, and a few are still catching their breath.

“Can we get back to the actual purpose of my employment at this university now?” Coach Barkley requests.

Atlas chuckles, not the least bit annoyed at Coach Barkley’s impatience. “All in good time, Coach. Let’s wrap this up first.” He turns back to address the group. “Alright, everyone. Great job out there today. This exercise was about trust, communication, and teamwork—skills that will serve you well both on and off the field, but especially those third years partaking in the games this year.”

I glance at Reith, thinking about how seamlessly we worked together. He catches my eye and gives me a small nod of acknowledgment. A sharp twinge runs through me as I watch the others, knowing they’re all gearing up with anticipation. I’m currently ranked at the top—no thanks to Maxwell—but I still refuse to take part in something as archaic as the games.

I can already hear the arguments they’ll make when the topic comes up again: the tradition, the honor, the glory. But to me, it’s all just a way to keep things the same, to bind us to the past instead of moving forward. I feel like I’m stuck watching a dying ritual from the sidelines, while everyone else cheers it on.

“Are we done now?” Barkley grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, Coach, we’re done. Your rowing team is all yours again.”

As the group begins to disperse, I turn to Reith. “Thanks for being such a great partner,” I say, offering him a genuine smile. “You really saved me back there.”

He grins back, running a hand through his dark hair as the groups begin to disperse. “Anytime. It was fun. Maybe we can team up again next time.”

Before I can respond, I feel a presence behind me. I turn, already bracing myself, and there stands my shadow, his green eyes fixed on me with that intense, unsettling focus of his.

“Prescott,” he says, his voice deep and authoritative. “A word?”

“I think we’ve already said enough today,” I reply, annoyance creeping into my tone. I’m not in the mood for any more of his outbursts, especially now that I’m the focus of them again.

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