Page 95 of The Ruthless Rivalry

I took a step forward, my curiosity piqued. “Atlas,” I greeted, my voice a little tentative but polite.

He blinked, his expression shifting. The furrow in his brow softened, but only just. “Alex,” he replied, his voice smooth, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that didn’t quite match the calm demeanor he usually wore.

I stood there, unsure if I should say anything else, or if it was better to just let the moment pass. I half-expected him to turn away, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still looking at me with that half-bemused expression. The irritation that had been lingering just beneath the surface seemed to dissipate, though it wasn’t entirely gone.

After a beat, Atlas lowered his voice slightly, as though making sure no one else could overhear. “Have you been back to the vault since that night?”

I blinked at the question, caught off guard by how directly he asked it. “No,” I said quickly—too quickly.

He studied me for a moment, his gaze not unkind but searching, like he was measuring the edges of my answer. “Did you take anything?”

My breath caught just slightly. I had. A photo, small and half-faded, sitting there on the desk. But for some reason, I shook my head.

“No.”

I wasn’t sure why I lied. Maybe because I didn’t want to give him a reason to look at me the way he was now—like he wasn’t sure if I could be trusted. His expression didn’t change much, still that easy, laid-back calm, but I saw it in his eyes: a flicker of doubt, quickly buried beneath that soft, almost-too-gentle smile.

He shifted the stack of books in his arms. “Well,” he said, tone lighter now, “can’t say I blame you. That place’s got a way of sticking with you. Not always in the best ways.”

I glanced down at the titles he carried—mostly obscure theory texts and a few worn volumes labeled things likeAltair Yearbook ArchivesandLegacy Student Directories. My brow lifted slightly. “So… what are you doing down there anyway? Research?”

He hesitated—not long enough to seem suspicious, just enough for me to notice. “Something like that,” he said finally. “Just helping someone... tie up a few loose ends.” He gave a hollow kind of smile. “You know how it is at Altair—favors.”

He said it with that same open ease, but I had the strange feeling he was being careful with his words. Measured.

“You need help?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Atlas chuckled, shaking his head as the first drops of rain began to fall around us. “Appreciate it, but I’ve got it covered. Not the kind of thing you bring a second pair of eyes into—too many cooks and all that.”

Before I could process his advice, a cold breeze swept through campus, followed by the sudden patter of rain. The first drops landed on the cobblestones with sharp, steady taps. Atlas glanced up at the sky, his expression hardening.

“Shoot,” he muttered, taking a step back and gathering up the books in his arms with hurried movements. “I can’t let these get wet.”

I watched as he quickly adjusted his grip, a sense of urgency overtaking his usually composed demeanor. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice clipped.

Before I could respond, he was already heading toward the nearest door, moving with surprising speed for someone weighed down by books. The rain began to fall harder, and I cursed under my breath, sprinting toward the direction of my dorm, trying to avoid the worst of the downpour.

By the time I reached the entrance, I was drenched, my shoes squelching with each step. The hallway greeted me withthe musty scent of damp wood and decaying stone, the faint, almost melancholic odor of wet coats mingling with the air. The flickering light from tarnished sconces barely illuminated the worn, shadowed corners, giving the place an unsettling, almost otherworldly feel. I sighed, relieved to be out of the relentless storm, though the gloom inside seemed to embrace me just as thoroughly as the downpour outside.

But the moment I walked in, the noise hit me like a wall. It was a constant hum of drills, the harsh clang of metal, and muffled voices, all blending together into an oppressive cacophony that echoed through the hall. It was well past midnight, and yet the construction was still in full swing—no one seemed to care that the hour was late. I couldn’t help but think how ridiculous it was that they hadn’t called it quits yet.

I winced as a particularly loud bang echoed from somewhere above me. My head throbbed in time with the noise.

I grumbled to myself, frowning as I made my way toward the stairs. “Nothing like a late-night symphony of construction. As if I need sleep or anythingimportantlike that.”

I barely had time to react when my foot caught on something—an exposed piece of piping sticking out from the wall, no doubt part of the ongoing renovation. I stumbled, arms flailing, before barely managing to catch myself against the railing.

“Seriously?” I grumbled under my breath, straightening up. I shot a quick glance at the exposed construction work, the half-finished drywall, the tools scattered along the floor. The place was a mess, and every step I took felt like I was risking life and limb just to get to my room.

I let out a sigh, adjusting my wet hair before I continued to pick my way through the chaos, hoping my feet would find their footing without another mishap, wishing more than ever for the silence that felt so impossible to come by these days.

I was almost to my room, my hand on the doorknob, when I froze. There, leaning against the wall in the hallway, was my shadow.

Great. Just what I needed after nearly breaking my neck on exposed pipes. Bishop was scowling, arms crossed, as usual, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Your dorm’s about as peaceful as a wrecking ball,” he remarked, his voice dripping with that obnoxious, mocking tone.

I didn’t say it out loud, but the thought lodged deep in my chest anyway—maybe Bishop hadn’t told my grandparents about the state of the building to help me. Maybe he did it just to mess with me. A perfect little torment: deny me sleep, make every wall hum and rattle with chaos until I broke. The kind of thing Altair would applaud for its elegance.

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