Page 93 of The Ruthless Rivalry

I couldn’t help it. I laughed, the absurdity of it all hitting me, despite myself.

He slid the key into the lock, and we crept down the dimly lit corridor, our shadows stretching along the walls beneath the flickering emergency lights. The faint smell of chemicals and disinfectant hung in the air, mixing with the sterile silence of the building.

Sylvester pushed open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a room filled with gleaming lab equipment. The moonlight filtering through the windows cast an ethereal glow on the polished surfaces, making the space feel both clinical and strangely beautiful.

“Take your pick,” he said, gesturing to the array of tools.

I approached one of the microscopes, running my fingers along its familiar smooth surface. “This is amazing,” I breathed.

“I told you I could deliver,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and amusement.

A genuine smile spread across my face as I walked further in, running my fingers along the surface of the table.

Sylvester watched me for a moment, the lines around his mouth softening. “Didn’t take you for the lab rat,” he teased, his eyes studying the way I was lighting up.

I shook my head, still grinning. “You have no idea how much I missed this.” I paused, then glanced at him, noticing how his eyes were on me with a soft, amused look. “I’m actually impressed you knew about this place.”

“You’d be surprised what I know. I grew up around here, remember?”

For a moment, the silence between us was comfortable. I was too caught up in the excitement of actually being here to notice it, but then Sylvester spoke again, breaking my focus.

“You’ve got a nice smile, you know?” he said it casually, but there was a sincerity to his voice that I wasn’t used to hearing from him.

The words hit me unexpectedly, and I froze for a second, my cheeks warming. For the first time, I felt a flicker of shyness.

I quickly looked away, clearing my throat to hide the awkwardness.

“Anyway,” I muttered, brushing the hair out of my face, “How many other places like this have you found around here? Are there more secret rooms with fancy microscopes, or are you just a one-hit wonder?”

I watched him carefully, trying to read him. Did he know about the Vault of Nightfall?

Sylvester gave a slight tilt of his head, “Altair’s got a lot of hidden spaces if you know where to look.”

“So you’ve found more than just this room?”

He grinned. “Some of the best spots are tucked away in plain sight, just not where most people are looking.”

I leaned against the edge of the workbench, watching him with interest. “You don’t exactly strike me as the type who’d care about the history of this place.”

Sylvester made a dismissive motion, though there was a quiet pride in his expression. “Maybe you judged me too quickly. It’s not all about knowing the right people. It’s about finding the right places. I told you, Altair’s got a lot of layers, if you know how to peel them back.”

There was a moment of silence between us, like he was waiting for me to process what he’d said.

I’d been nudging the conversation toward the Vault of Nightfall, just to see if he’d flinch. But he didn’t. So either he knew and wasn’t sharing, or he had no idea.

Still, I knew better than to trust him completely. I’d come here alone, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten who he was, or the kind of things he was capable of. I was setting myself up for something by being here, but I wasn’t going to let my guard down. Not yet.

Just then, a loud slam echoed from somewhere down the hall. My head snapped toward the sound, eyes wide.

Sylvester stiffened beside me. “What was that?” His voice was low, tense, a sharp contrast to the easy banter from moments before. The unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the hallway, followed by footsteps.

I froze, my skin prickling. “Maybe it’s nothing,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt, but the unease creeping up my spine told me otherwise.

We held our breath for a moment, the footsteps growing fainter, but they were still there, a rhythmic beat of someone moving. Then the sound stopped. A long, pregnant silence hung between us, thick with uncertainty.

Sylvester peered at the crack in the door, his eyes narrowing as he watched a shadow shift beneath it. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Alright, I think we’re good,” he muttered, though his words were less convincing now. “Probably just groundskeeper Simmons.”

He looked at me, waiting for some kind of confirmation. But before I could respond, a buzzing sound vibrated through the air, shattering the stillness. My eyes darted around the room, searching for the source. It was faint at first, barely noticeable, like a phone vibrating against a desk.

---