The Ruthless Rivalry (Altair University #2)

1. Alex

Chapter 1

Alex

I awaken to a throbbing pain in my head and the taste of copper in my mouth.

The world is a blur of muted colors and distorted shapes.

As my vision slowly clears, I find myself lying in a hospital bed, its sterile white walls rising around me like a prison.

“Vera?” I call my mother’s name out weakly, my voice echoing in the cavernous space.

There’s no response.

I try to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forces me back down.

My hand encounters gauze when I touch my head.

Panic starts to set in as I realize the gravity of my situation.

I must have been unconscious.

How long was I out? I struggle to the edge of the bed, my limbs feeling like lead weights.

As I swing my legs over the side, a sharp pain shoots through my ribs, causing me to wince.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next.

No sooner do my bare feet touch the cold tile floor that I spot my dad coming through the door.

He’s here?

“Hey kiddo,” he greets, tentatively stepping into the room and settling on the edge of my bed.

“Dad?” I croak, as I settle back into the bed.

“What…what happened?”

His face crumples, a mix of relief and worry etched into the lines around his eyes.

“You were in an accident. At the natatorium. We’ve been so worried.”

A tsunami of realization crashes over me, forcing the broken shards of my memory into a complete picture.

The Legacies trapped me in the natatorium, using my own mother as bait.

She’d confessed that she had gone to school here, but then her anger took over, and everything went black.

“We?” I ask, puzzled.

“Your friend, Sutton,” he clarifies, glancing over his shoulder at Sutton, who stands timidly in the doorway.

“She’s the one who discovered you and called for help.” Sutton gives me a nervous wave.

I try to process this information, but my mind feels sluggish, like I’m wading through molasses.

“How long have I been here?”

“Since this morning,” he replies, reaching out to take my hand.

His touch is warm, familiar, but it does little to quell the rising tide of panic in my chest.

“Vera,” I manage, the name tumbling from my lips before I can stop it.

“Where’s Vera?”

“Your mother?” My father’s tone is tinged with confusion.

“What would she be doing here? You know she’s at her…facility.” He swallows hard, his gaze shifting to Sutton.

“She was definitely here,” I insist, pointing in Sutton’s direction.

My hands seem to have a faint red tint to them, but I push that thought aside.

“And Sutton knows it too.” After all, she was the one who helped trap me in there, along with the other Legacies.

Sutton’s eyes flicker with some emotion before she clears her throat.

“She was muttering that name when I found her. I had no idea who she meant.”

I stare at Sutton, disbelief and anger bubbling up inside me.

How can she stand there and lie so blatantly?

There’s something in her gaze that doesn’t quite match her words.

A flicker of…guilt? Fear?

I can’t be sure, but before I can call her out, my father squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to him.

“You’ve been through a traumatic experience, Alex. It’s not uncommon for the mind to create false memories in such situations,” he says gently.

I want to argue, to insist that what I remember is real, but doubt begins to creep in.

Could it all have been a hallucination?

The weight of uncertainty settles heavily on my chest.

But I know what I saw.

What I experienced. I know what they did.

“No,” I say, my voice growing stronger with conviction.

“She was there. I remember it clearly.” I turn to my father, desperate for him to believe me.

“Dad, you have to listen. Vera’s not in her facility. She was in the pool room, they’re—”

I’m cut off by a sharp pain in my head, causing me to wince and clutch at my temples.

My father leans forward, concern etched on his face.

“Easy there, kiddo. You’ve been through a lot,” he says, gently pulling my hand away from the bandages.

“I guess it was fortunate that I was already on my way up here for parents’ weekend, huh?”

Parents’ weekend?

Oh yeah, that’s why I was in this situation.

I woke up to find a note on my door.

It’s all coming back to me now.

“The note,” I whisper, my eyes widening.

“Dad, there was a note on my door. That’s why I went to the natatorium. It said it was the location to meet up with our parents.”

My father exchanged a glance with Sutton, his brow furrowing.

“What note? There’s no note.”

I shake my head, frustration mounting.

“There was. I put it in my pocket.”

Sutton stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm.

“Alex, I was here when you were changed. There was no note.”

“No,” I demand.

“You were in on it. Along with Bishop, Sylvester, and Camden.” I turn to my father, desperate for him to understand.

“You have to believe me.”

My father’s eyes soften with pity, and I can see he doesn’t believe me.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

I’m alone in this. Utterly alone.

“Alex,” he begins, his voice careful and measured.

“I think you might be confusing reality with some sort of dream or hallucination. It’s okay, it’s normal after trauma—”

“No!” I shout, startling both him and Sutton.

“I’m not confused, I’m not hallucinating. It happened!”

I struggle to sit up, ignoring the wave of wooziness that washes over me.

My father tries to gently push me back down, but I resist, fixing my gaze on Sutton.

“Tell him,” I demand, my voice cracking.

“Tell him the truth. You were there. You know what happened.”

Sutton shifts her hands but says nothing in return.

“I want to believe you. But you took quite a fall,” my dad says.

“You have to understand how this sounds.”

I feel my heart racing, frustration and anger boiling inside me.

I know what I saw, what I experienced.

But with every passing moment, it feels like the truth is slipping further away.

“Maybe we should let her rest,” Sutton suggests.

“She’s clearly been through a lot.”

I fix her with a cold stare, my temper flaring.

“Stop pretending like you don’t know what happened!” I shout, my voice cracking.

“You were there! You helped them!”

Sutton takes a step back, her eyes widening in what looks like genuine shock.

But I can’t trust anything about her anymore.

My father places a calming hand on my shoulder.

“Alex, please, you need to calm down. You’re not making any sense.”

I shrug his hand off, irritation surging through me.

“I am making sense! You’re just not listening to me!”

Tears of anger prick at my eyes.

I know what I saw, what I experienced.

The cold atmosphere of the natatorium, the fear as I realized I was trapped, Vera’s face contorted with rage.

It was all real. It had to be.

But as I look from my father’s concerned face to Sutton’s carefully composed expression, doubt begins to creep in.

Could they be right?

Could it all have been some vivid hallucination brought on by my injury?

No . I refuse to believe that.

I can’t let them confuse me into doubting my own memories.

The room starts to spin, and I grip the edge of the bed to steady myself.

My outburst has left me breathless and dizzy.

A nurse rushes in, alerted by the commotion.

“What’s going on here?” she asks, her eyes darting between me, my father, and Sutton.

“Nothing,” my father says quickly.

“Just a misunderstanding. My daughter is still a bit confused from her fall earlier.”

“I would like to see my doctor,” I interject, my voice firm.

“Now.”

The nurse nods, her expression a mix of concern and wariness.

“I’ll page Dr. Rodriguez right away.”

As she leaves the room, I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me.

The adrenaline from my outburst fades, leaving me feeling drained and vulnerable.

Sutton remains standing at the door, her posture stiff and uncomfortable.

I can’t help but notice how she keeps glancing at the door, as if eager to escape.

Minutes tick by, feeling like hours.

Finally, a knock at the door breaks the tension.

Dr. Rodriguez enters, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly disheveled, as if he’s had a long day.

Well, that makes two of us.

“Alex,” he greets me with a smile.

“I hear you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I would like to know how soon before I can check out.” I needed to be away from this stuffy room.

Dr. Rodriguez’s smile falters slightly as he glances at my chart.

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t discharge you just yet. Your CT scan showed a mild concussion, and we need to keep you under observation until at least tomorrow morning.”

I feel my heart sink.

Another day trapped here, with everyone treating me like I’m losing my mind.

“But I feel fine,” I protest, saying whatever it takes to get out of here sooner.

The doctor’s expression is sympathetic but firm.

“I understand you want to leave, but it’s crucial we monitor you for any complications. Concussions can be tricky things.”

I slump back against the pillows, defeated.

My father squeezes my hand, trying to offer comfort, but I can barely look at him.

How can I make him understand when he won’t even listen?

“Now,” Dr. Rodriguez continues, his tone shifting to something more.

“I’ve already discussed this with your father, but should your scans come back clear, you’ll still be able to make the reception ceremony as well as the dinner tomorrow evening in the great hall.”

I feel a jolt of surprise at the doctor’s words.

The reception? The dinner in the great hall?

What is he talking about?

“What reception?” I ask.

Dr. Rodriguez looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns on his face.

“Ah, I apologize. I forgot you might not remember due to your concussion. The annual Altair pre-trial ceremony is tomorrow evening.”

“Sutton told me you found the golden flag during your pre-trial game.” My father’s face lights up with pride.

I can only assume that in addition to this proud moment, she also forgot to mention how I essentially told Chancellor Maxwell and the entire school to shove it by giving the flag to Alfie in front of everyone.

How convenient.

I was already used to letting one parent down, so why not disappoint the other?

If I get discharged in time, he’ll find out what really happened and that I no longer have the precious flag.

“Right,” I say, my voice tight.

“The ceremony. I forgot. I guess that’s from the concussion.”

Dr. Rodriguez nods sympathetically.

“That’s perfectly normal after what you experienced. Your memories should start to come back gradually.”

But I already remember everything.

The flag, Alfie, Chancellor Maxwell’s face twisted in shock and anger.

I remember it all too clearly.

Yet here I am, trapped in a web of lies and half-truths, unable to distinguish reality from whatever game Sutton and the other Legacies are playing.

A knot forms in my stomach.

The thought of attending some grand ceremony, pretending everything is normal, makes me want to scream.

“I’m not sure I’m up for it. The ceremony, I mean,” I clarify.

My father’s face falls.

“But this is such an important moment. You’ve worked so hard, and you should celebrate.”

I glance at Sutton, who’s watching me with an unreadable expression.

She knows the truth, knows that I gave up the flag.

Is she waiting for me to expose her lie, or is she daring me to try?

“I just don’t feel well enough,” I insist, looking back at Dr. Rodriguez.

“Surely it’s not a good idea for me to attend a big event right after a concussion?”

Dr. Rodriguez hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Well, as long as you’re feeling up to it and your symptoms have improved, attendance shouldn’t pose any risks. But of course, if you’re not comfortable—”

“She’ll be fine, she’s a Prescott,” my father interjects, insistent.

“It’s just nerves, right, kiddo? Once you’re there, surrounded by your classmates, you’ll feel much better.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Sutton speaks up before I can.

“Your father’s right. Everyone’s so excited to celebrate your achievement. It would be a shame to miss it.”

Her words are honey-sweet, but I can see the steel behind her eyes.

I feel trapped, cornered by everyone’s expectations and the lies surrounding me.

My head throbs, a dull ache that seems to intensify with each passing moment.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the concerned faces around me, but their voices still penetrate my consciousness.

“Alex?” I hear my father ask.

“Are you alright?”

I force my eyes open, plastering on a weak smile.

“I’m just tired,” I lie, hating how easily the deception comes.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll feel better after some rest.”

Dr. Rodriguez nods approvingly.

“Rest is exactly what you need. We’ll continue to monitor you throughout the night and reassess in the morning. If all goes well, you should be able to attend the ceremony tomorrow evening.”

I nod mechanically, unable to trust myself to speak.

As the doctor starts to leave, I close my eyes, shutting everyone out.

The doctor adds, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and Alex? It’s up to you, since you’re a legal adult now, but I heard you were mumbling your mother’s name earlier? I was made aware of the difficult relationship you have with her, and we have a fantastic therapist on campus that I highly suggest.”

I feel my body go stiff at the mention of Vera.

“I don’t need a therapist,” I say, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

“And I certainly don’t want to discuss that woman.”

My father sighs heavily.

“We’re just worried about you. After everything that’s happened…”

“Everything that’s happened?” I repeat, sitting up straighter despite my weakness that threatens to overwhelm me.

“You mean the things you all keep insisting didn’t happen?”

Dr. Rodriguez holds up a placating hand.

“No one is trying to invalidate your experiences. But trauma can affect our memories in complex ways. It might help to talk to someone who can help you process everything.”

I laugh bitterly.

“Process what, exactly? The fact that everyone seems determined to manipulate me into believing their version of events?”

The room falls silent, tension thick in the air.

I can see the worry etched on my father’s face, the carefully neutral expression of Dr. Rodriguez, and the slight narrowing of Sutton’s eyes.

“Alex,” Sutton says softly, her voice laced with concern that I’m certain is fake.

“We’re all on your side here. No one is trying to trick you.”

I turn to her, unable to keep the anger from my voice.

“Really? Then why don’t you tell them how I really ended up at the bottom of that pool?”

Sutton’s eyes widen, and then she exhales sharply down her nose.

“We’ve already discussed this. You lost your footing and fell. It was a complete accident.”

“An accident,” I repeat, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Right. Because I just happened to slip and fall into an abandoned pool first thing in the morning.”

“That’s enough,” my father interrupts, his voice stern.

“Sutton helped you. She’s your friend.”

I laugh again, the sound hollow and bitter.

“Friend?” I scoff, if only he knew the truth about our relationship.

Dr. Rodriguez steps forward.

“I think you could benefit from some rest.”

“Fine,” I say, my voice flat.

“I’ll sleep. But I’m telling the truth.”

I turn away from them, facing the stark white wall of the hospital room.

I can feel their eyes on me, hear their worried whispers, but I tune them out.

My mind is racing, piecing together fragments of memories that don’t align with their narrative.

The pool. The smell of chlorine.

The impact of hitting the ground.

The Legacies’ faces through the glass, locking me inside to watch as I struggled.

These aren’t hallucinations or trauma-induced delusions.

They’re real, vivid, and terrifying.

No. It wasn’t an accident.

I’m sure of it.

As I feign sleep, I hear my father and Dr. Rodriguez step out of the room, their hushed voices fading down the hallway.

But I can still sense Sutton’s presence, hovering near my bed.

“I know you’re awake,” she whispers, her breath hitting my ear.

I remain still, my eyes closed, fighting the urge to yell at her.

My head pounds, but I force my breathing to remain steady.

“You can’t keep this up forever,” Sutton continues, her voice low and threatening.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to accept the truth. Our truth. And then you’ll leave for good.”

“The ceremony is tomorrow,” she continues.

“And you’ll be there. You’ll smile, you’ll play your part, and you’ll forget all about this…unfortunate incident.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost feel her smirk.

“After all,” she adds, “accidents happen all the time. It would be a shame if another one happened to you—or someone you care about. You have a sister, right? Clara, isn’t it?”

Her words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat that sends a chill down my spine.

I want to lash out, to confront her, but I know that would only make things worse.

So I lie there, motionless, as Sutton’s footsteps fade away and the door clicks shut behind her.

Only then do I allow myself to open my eyes.

The ceremony tomorrow.

It’s all happening so fast, and I feel utterly unprepared.

But what choice do I have?

Sutton’s threat wasn’t just aimed at me—she implied the person I cared about the most could be in danger too.

I push myself up, wincing at the pain that shoots through my body.

Every muscle aches, a constant reminder of what they did to me.

But I can’t afford to dwell on the pain now.

I need to think, to plan.

I decided to try to piece together what I knew—the Legacies, the secrets, the power they wield over the school.

And now, their determination to silence me, to make me doubt my own memories, and ultimately force me to leave.

I glance out the window, noting the fading light.

Night is falling, and with it, my chances of escaping unnoticed grow slimmer.

If I really wanted to, I could swing my legs off the bed, grab my clothes from the closet, and leave without a word.

But isn’t that exactly what they want?

For me to leave? No.

I can’t let them win.

Not after what they did—bringing my mother into this and now threatening my sister too.

No way. They’re going to pay for this.

All of them.

My father steps back into the room.

“I got that therapist’s information.” He approaches the bed, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion.

“I know this is hard for you. But Dr. Rodriguez thinks it would be good for you to talk to someone. A therapist who specializes in trauma and memory issues.”

I stay silent, my eyes unfocused.

Part of me wants to scream, to tell him everything, but I know he won’t believe me—not when everyone else is spinning their own version of events.

He should believe me; he went to Altair.

Why is he refusing to see my side of this?

He sighs, placing a business card on the bedside table.

“Her name is Evelyn Chen. She comes highly recommended. Please, just consider it.”

I give a noncommittal grunt, still not looking at him.

As he leaves the room again, I turn my head slightly to look at the business card.

Evelyn Chen. The name means nothing to me, and it never will.