Page 47 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Honestly, hadn’t Ophelia learned her lesson this morning? I heard it was pretty embarrassing for her, though I wasn’t surprised. Bishop’s stubbornness was unbreakable, a force of nature that refused to be swayed. He was like a boulder—unyielding, immovable, with an inflexibility that could withstand even the strongest winds and tides.

Bishop shoots me a pointed look, though it’s clear his words are aimed at the entire group. “No one fucks Prescott. No touching, no flirting, no pretending like you’re her damn hero. We need her gone, not distracted by any of you.” His tone is firm, final, like he’s drawing a line in the sand. The air around him crackles with authority, like he’s already decided what the boundaries are.

I’m about to say something sarcastic, but I bite my tongue, watching him closely. There’s something about the way he says it that makes me think it’s not just about getting Alex to leave Altair. His words cut deeper than they should. Maybe even a little too deeply.

My mind drifts to another time, sophomore year, when Ophelia had gotten jealous over a girl bold enough to openly flirt with Bishop. The girl had shown up to class the next day with a noticeably shorter, uneven haircut. Rumor had it, someone hadsnuck up behind her and snipped off a few inches, though no one could ever prove who it was. Though we all knew.

Alex’s words flash through my mind again, unbidden.Each of you are still playing his game, he’s just great at pretending you’re not.

“Since when are you in charge of what each of us do?” I snap, my voice suddenly sharp, not quite able to keep the edge of annoyance out.

Bishop’s expression doesn’t change. It’s as cold and unyielding as it always is when he’s challenged. “Since my family became the one with the most to lose.” His voice drops, calculated and final. “Or had you forgotten? It wasmymother who was engaged to Prescott’s father before everything went to shit.”

The air was heavy with unspoken tension, like a thick fog that obscured our true emotions. The flames of the bonfire seemed to hiss and snap with restless energy. The orange glow reflects off of Bishop’s face, casting menacing shadows that dance along his sharp cheekbones and jawline. His eyes, dark and unfeeling, bore into me without wavering.

The silence stretched, suffocating, until Bishop stood abruptly. The movement was swift. No warning, no hesitation. He grabbed Ophelia by the arm, yanking her toward him with a force that made her stumble. She didn’t protest, too eager to follow, too willing to go wherever he led. It was no surprise. After the way he’d treated her this morning, I knew she’d do whatever it took to get back into his good graces… And he knew it too.

Bishop didn’t even glance back at the group, as he jerked Ophelia along.

Before they could disappear into the darkness, I called out, my voice a sharp reminder: “Oh, and Ophelia,” I said, making sure she heard me. “It’s Sylvester to you. Only my friends get to call me Sly.”

She didn’t even flinch. Bishop walked them down the shoreline, their figures swallowed by the night, leaving a lingering coldness in their wake that had nothing to do with the storm that was slowly brewing. And I wasn’t just referring to the one that seemed to have held off the coast of Altair the entire day.

The mood grows heavy as the seconds stretch on. Cam clears his throat, clearly searching for a way to break the awkwardness that’s so unlike us.Weweren’t uncomfortable. We made others feel that way. “So, uh, anyone hear about the party Christopher Harris is throwing for his birthday?”

Sutton jumps in, eager to move past the confrontation. “Yeah, he mentioned it when we crossed paths outside the natatorium a few days ago.”

The conversation picks up again, albeit stilted and forced. I tune it out, my eyes once again scanning the beach. The crowd has thinned a bit as the night wears on, and it looks like it might rain, but there’s still no sign of Alex.

I rub at my chest, absently. Damn. I really wasn’t used to this getting stood up thing.

Cam takes a long swig of his beer before pulling a flask from his jacket pocket. “Anyone up for some shots to lighten the mood?” he asks with a grin.

Sutton’s mouth twists in distaste, but she doesn’t protest as Cam pours generous amounts of liquor into the plastic cups scattered around our circle. I take mine without a word and throw it back in one go, letting the burn roll down my throat.

“To another thrilling night being a Legacy,” Cam says, toasting sarcastically after refilling my cup.

This time we all clink our cups together halfheartedly and throw back the shots together. The vodka burns going down, but I welcome the warmth spreading through my chest. Maybe it will help dull the disappointment and frustration of the evening.

Cam tips over the empty flask in his hand, a frown forming on his lips. “We’re out,” he declares, scanning the shoreline for any new potential sources.

Another student hurries over, eager to assist, but Cam dismissively waves them away. His attention is now drawn to a different group of students, and he locks eyes with a girl standing among them. A sly grin forms on his face as he winks at her and she grins back.

“I think I found my next fix,” he announces before getting up from his seat and making his way toward her.

“Well, we won’t be seeing him for the rest of the night,” Sutton says dryly.

I snort, knowing exactly how it goes with Cam. Once he’s fixated on something, there’s no stopping him—especially if it’s got long legs and a killer set of tits.

“So are we going to talk about what went down earlier?” Sutton asks, breaking the short silence that has fallen over us again.

I shrug, not meeting her eyes. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” she retorts. “You invited Alex here, knowing full well how Bishop would react. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you’ve been watching for her all night. What’s going on with you?” As a twin, Sutton always seemed to have a deeper understanding of me than anyone else, which could be frustrating at times. Like now, for example.

I run my tongue over my lower lip, leaning forward. “Do we always just blindly follow Bishop’s orders without questioning them?”

“Why do you ask?”

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