18. Bishop
Chapter 18
Bishop
“ C ome on, Bishop, it’ll be fun.”
“I’ll stay down here, Blair. You go ahead and check out the observation deck, and come back down whenever you’re ready.”
My sister had chosen this extravagant, sprawling restaurant for our evening together after our father had gone on and on about the breathtaking water views he saw here last month, right after it opened.
It was only an hour from Altair, and when I realized Blair would be left all alone in that massive house with Dad away on business and Mom off at the Whitlocks for the night, I couldn’t refuse.
But let’s be honest, she had brought this on herself—she still refused to come to Altair.
So it was hardly my fault she was stuck at home alone.
But still, I understood how our home could feel too large, too grandiose, the kind of place where you could easily get lost just trying to find the kitchen.
I didn’t pity her, though.
In fact, I knew it was important for her to get out of that house every now and then.
So instead of letting her sulk alone, I’d suggested we go out for dinner.
At least that way, she wouldn’t be cooped up all evening, stewing in the emptiness of that place.
“How was it?” I ask once I see her coming back down the stairs.
Blair’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she bounded down the last few steps.
“It’s incredible up there! You can see for miles in every direction. The city lights look like a sea of stars, and then the real stars above… It’s breathtaking.” She paused, taking a deep breath as if trying to capture the beauty with her words.
“And the water—it’s like a giant mirror stretching out toward the horizon. You can see the waves shimmering under the moonlight, with the city surrounding it like this perfect circle of lights. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
I nodded, trying to picture it.
The thought of standing that high up, looking out over all that open space, made something twist in my chest. “Sounds like quite the view. Maybe I’ll check it out next time.”
She tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips.
“You won’t.”
I shot her a quick look, not bothering to hide my irritation.
“I will. Just not today.”
Blair raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She gave me a mocking pat on the shoulder as she passed, heading back toward where I’d parked.
“You just keep your feet on solid ground, big brother.”
The teasing in her voice made me stiffen, but I didn’t scold her.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because she was right.
We both knew it. I wasn’t about to admit it, of course—there was no chance I’d give her the satisfaction.
I didn’t have a problem with most things, but heights?
Yeah, not my thing.
Blair hopped into the car and slammed the door, grinning like she’d just won a prize.
I threw the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, my hands firmly gripping the wheel.
“You know,” Blair said, tilting her head toward me, “you really should see it sometime. It’s not like it’s a secret view or anything.”
“Why would I want to? Not really my thing,” I mutter, my focus on the road.
She scoffed. “You’re just trying to act all tough because you know I’m right. Heights are a thing for other people.”
“Other people who don’t have common sense, you mean?” I shoot back with a smirk.
Blair rolled her eyes dramatically.
“You’re impossible, you know that? Always acting like you’re too cool for everything.”
“Someone has to keep the family grounded,” I quip, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.
“Mm-hmm. Grounded, sure.”
I shook my head, chuckling.
“So when are you coming to Altair? Or is that still on hold out of pure spite and principle?”
Blair had been avoiding the topic of Altair for weeks, ever since the plan involving Prescott had happened.
She kept using the excuse that she “needed to talk to her first.” Our mother knew she was stalling, I knew, and if we’d had a dog, even they would know it.
I glanced at her, noticing she was shifting in her seat, her fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest. A small flicker of irritation passed over her face as she reached forward and turned the radio down, the noise fading into silence.
Blair sighed, crossing her arms as if she could dodge the topic altogether.
“You know the deal. I have to talk to Alex first. And really,” she pointed out, her lips curving up just slightly, “you failed to get her to visit, so this is all on you.”
I shot her a quick look.
“You’re really going to blame me for that?”
Blair tilted her head, feigning innocence.
“Why not? You’re the one who didn’t bring her.”
I scoffed.
“I tried to get her to come with me.”
“Well,” Blair continued with that signature smirk, “clearly you didn’t try hard enough.”
I leaned back in my seat, grinding my teeth as the truth slowly settled in.
She had a point. I’d taken Prescott to that party when I should’ve just taken her straight to my house.
That had been my plan.
“I was going to,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“Plans changed.”
Blair raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“What, she blinked at you and you panicked?”
I didn’t respond, but she wasn’t entirely wrong.
When she’d shown up at the door—after Cam’s half-cousin had slammed it in my face, no less—Prescott had that gleam in her eyes, a look that was somehow both playful and challenging.
It had thrown me off.
And like an idiot, I’d let my better judgment slip away.
“This idea of yours is dumb anyway,” I said finally, mostly to shut Blair up.
Blair waved her hand dismissively.
“Changes the plan last minute, then complains when it doesn't work out. Unbelievable."
The words hung in the air for a moment as the silence settled between us. And in that silence my thoughts drifted back to Prescott.
I could still remember exactly how she looked that night. She was wearing a black, tight dress that clung to every curve of her body in all the right ways. Nothing like the usual oversized hoodies and baggy jeans she hid behind when she wasn’t in her school uniform. No, this was something else entirely. The smooth, almost matte fabric stretched across her skin, giving her a sleek, almost dangerous vibe. The dress hugged her in places I wasn’t used to seeing. Somehow it made her legs looked longer, her waist cinched, and when she moved, the fabric seemed to move with her like it was made for her alone.
She looked hot . There was no denying it. This wasn’t a version of Prescott I was used to—someone who was always confident, always unapologetic, but usually hiding behind her oversized clothes. That night she was different. She wasn’t hiding anything. She stood tall, every inch of her radiating self-assurance. This was the version of her that could command a room without lifting a finger, and I found myself stuck in her orbit.
I couldn’t stop staring. And it pissed me off that I hadn’t acted indifferent. I had been too distracted by how attractive she looked to focus on anything else.
Too caught off guard to stick to the plan—like taking her to see my sister so I could get both my mother and my sister off my back, and finally wipe my hands of this ridiculous part I’d somehow been coaxed into playing. All in the hopes of getting Blair to attend Altair, like that was supposed to make everything worth it.
I had let Prescott take the lead that night, and for some reason, I couldn’t figure out why. Part of me knew I should’ve stuck to my original intention and taken her straight to my house. But instead, like an idiot, I’d driven her and her friend to that party. I didn’t get it. I’d been the one making decisions for everyone else up to that point. But that night, something about her— something about the way she looked, the way she carried herself—had thrown me off balance.
I hated that I let it happen.
But what I hated even more was what she’d admitted to me while she was drunk. That confession. The one she probably didn’t even remember, and honestly, I doubted her pride would allow her to ever bring it up again even if she did.
I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of her saying what was on her mind—that sharp, unfiltered version—because I knew that’s exactly what she would do if she had the chance.
I shifted in my seat, the thought of her hitting me like a fucking punch. I could feel myself getting hard, my jeans suddenly too tight. I hated that I liked the idea of her voicing her opinions, that she actually had the guts to call me out. And she wasn’t afraid to chew me out, either.
And let’s be honest, I knew I deserved it.
The thing was, though, her confession stuck with me. How her mother used to punish her, taking food away if she didn’t perform well enough. The way she’d said it, so broken, but so casually, as if it was just another part of her life. It was hard to shake off.
Blair’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You don’t get it, do you? You tried to make things happen, but you’ve been so far up your own ass with all this family drama that you couldn’t see the simplest solution.”
I snapped back to reality, looking over at her. “You’re not helping me here, you know.”
Blair shrugged, a devil-may-care grin playing on her lips. “I’m just saying, you need to stop overthinking everything. Sometimes it’s not about trying to make things happen, it’s about doing the right thing when it counts.” She tilted her head, feigning innocence again. “But hey, if you want to keep blaming me for your failures, I’m happy to accept the responsibility.”
I didn’t even try to hide my annoyance. “Nice try. This isn’t about me failing. It’s about you avoiding Altair, and we both know it.” I paused, feeling the heat of my own frustration building. “And just so we’re clear, I didn’t fail.” I just…shifted tactics for one night.
Blair grinned, clearly amused by the admission. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I pulled up to our house. Blair gave me a sideways glance, still wearing that teasing grin, as she grabbed the door handle.
“Home sweet home,” I said, coming to a stop. “You good?”
She shrugged again, a look of mild annoyance flashing across her face for a second. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll survive.”
“You should really stop avoiding Altair. You’ll have to face it eventually.”
She shot me a look but didn’t respond as she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. It was clear I wasn’t going to win this argument tonight, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try. Our mother was right, she couldn’t keep avoiding the hard stuff forever. Eventually, she’d have to deal with it and learn to adjust, the same as the rest of us. We all had our own issues.
I started the engine and pulled away, heading back to campus. I waited until Blair stepped inside the building before I let my foot off the brake, the engine rumbling to life as I pulled away. I was already late for our meetup, but whatever. They could wait.
When I pulled into the parking garage, I parked the car with a sharp turn of the wheel and stepped out, already feeling the weight of the evening drag on me.
A thick, sickly sweet scent slapped me in the face as soon as I unlocked the door to my dorm room. It was like a floral shop had exploded in here and then decided to throw a party for bees. I frowned, stepping inside and flicking the light on. I waved my hand through the air, trying to clear out the assault on my senses. It didn’t just smell bad—it smelled like someone had dumped a vat of sugar on a bouquet of dead roses and left it to rot in a damp basement.
The other smell, though—the one that had lingered for days and was only getting worse—was starting to irritate me, but I’d take that over this sickly sweetness any day. At least it was subtle, and I could almost forget it was there. This, on the other hand, was like being trapped in a perfume commercial. It made my teeth hurt.
I noticed a box, sitting on my desk, the white edges of the package standing out against the dark wood. My suspicion flared up immediately. With a quick step forward, I picked it up and glanced at the note—an envelope sealed with a kiss. Fucking great.
Without so much as a glance at the thing, I tossed it into the trash, not giving a single care about the contents or the note Ophelia clearly left behind for me to find.
I rubbed a hand across my face, letting out a deep sigh. The lock on the door was getting changed tomorrow, because there was no way I was letting this circus continue. Why had I given her a key in the first place? Oh, right. I’d been too lazy to get off my ass and answer the door every time she showed up when I wanted to hookup, so I handed it over like it was some sort of exclusive VIP pass. Now? I was stuck with a permanent reminder that my laziness had led to this mess.
But of course, I knew Ophelia’s stuff was anything but cheap. Everything she owned—her perfume, her clothes—was all about luxury, the kind of stuff you had to be someone to afford. Myself included, when we were together.
I grabbed the window latch and threw it open, letting the cool night air rush in. That helped, but the smell didn’t exactly vanish. It just sort of hung there like a bad decision.
I hated being up here. The top floor of the dorm, the very thing I’d been stuck with because that’s where they stuck all the Legacies. It was supposed to be some kind of symbol—always above everyone else. Even though heights made my stomach churn, I didn’t have a say in it. I should’ve pointed that out to Blair before I dropped her off. Let her know I didn’t get to pick anything about this, not even my own room and point out we all had things we had to suck up and deal with.
I looked down, hoping for some distraction, and there she was—my little troublemaker, chatting at the fountain below.
I whipped my head around, but of course, my feet hesitated like they had a mind of their own. She was talking to someone, and for a second, I thought it was Sly. But no, she wasn’t laughing like she did when he was around. This was someone else. Definitely a female.
I rubbed my jaw, irritation bubbling up in my chest. I couldn’t even pinpoint why it bothered me so much, but there it was. I didn’t like seeing her with anyone else.
I didn’t feel the usual nagging unease creeping in, the one that always came with being this high up. Instead, I just stood there, watching, as the night air came in. It wasn’t so bad up here tonight, I guess. Maybe it was the distraction, maybe it was her. Ultimately, I chalked it up to the fumes from the perfume still lingering in the air. That stuff was suffocating.
The thought of not knowing for sure who it was down there with Prescott gnawed at me. So what did I do? Grab my camera, of course. I mean, sure, I was pretty sure it was a girl she was talking to, but I had to confirm it, right? I wasn’t about to just stay here feeling like an idiot.
I made my way over to my closet, my eyes still trained on the window. I wasn’t about to just keep guessing. But when I reached for my camera bag, I froze.
The bag was gone. No camera. No lens. Just an empty spot where my most prized possession had been.
For a long moment, I just stared at the vacant space, the absence of the bag slowly sinking in. My brain processed it, but it didn’t make sense. I blinked a few times, thinking it was a mistake. Maybe I was just seeing things. But no. The bag wasn’t there. And neither was my camera.
Who would be stupid enough to do this? Break into my room, touch my things, and take them? Steal them like some common thief, from a Legacy ?
Ophelia? She wasn’t clever enough to mess with my stuff. Besides, she’d never disobey me like that.
Then the anger hit me—slow at first, like a cold wave creeping in from the edges of my mind. I stood there for a few more seconds, still staring at the empty spot, and that’s when the rage began to build, deep in my gut, spreading like wildfire through my veins. It was like my blood had turned to acid, searing its way up to my head, and my fists clenched hard enough that my knuckles cracked.
I glanced at the window, still seeing flashes of rage in my mind. Troublemaker. The name fit her all too well, like a puppy with a knife between its teeth—cute enough to get away with almost anything, but dangerous if you weren’t paying attention.
A jolt of fury hit me like a freight train, and I didn’t waste another second. The door slammed behind me before I even realized it. I was already out of the room, charging down the stairs, my anger building like a storm ready to break.
I charged across the pathway, my footsteps pounding with the weight of my fury. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was going to do when I reached her, but that didn’t matter. All I knew was I had to get to my little thief.
I spotted her outside the Whitlock dorm, chatting with someone who I didn’t care to give my attention. Aubrey. The girl turned to walk off, and I could see the smile on Prescott’s face—sweet, easy, like nothing was wrong. But the second she noticed me, that grin dropped. The change in her expression hit me like a slap in the face, and a dark grin curled my lips.
Her eyes widened, but I didn’t slow down for a second.
Without a word, I was right up to her, and before she could even react, I scooped her up and threw her over my shoulder like she weighed nothing. The shock on her face barely registered. No hesitation, no mercy. I stormed forward, holding her with an iron grip as she kicked and struggled in my arms.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I muttered under my breath, ignoring her protests.
Without missing a beat, I strode right over to the fountain in the middle of the dorm’s courtyard and, with a sharp flick of my wrist, tossed her straight into the water.
She let out a startled gasp as she splashed into the fountain, the cold water instantly soaking her. I stood over her, watching her flounder in the water, all helpless-like. There was something captivating about it. She was stunning.
Prescott glared up at me, water dripping from her face, her eyes blazing with pure fury. “You’re a complete psychopath!” she spat, teeth chattering from the cold as she stood up, shaking with rage. “You are completely insane!”
“Where is it?”
She shot me a look of disbelief. “You’re seriously asking me questions after what you just did?” Her jaw clenched, and I could see her temper flaring even more. “You’re unstable, you know that?”
“Cute,” I replied calmly. “Where’s my camera?”
She stood there for a moment, still dripping from the fountain, but her attitude shifted. The fiery rage in her eyes melted into something else—like she was suddenly enjoying this little game. She tilted her head, lips curling just slightly in a half-smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I didn’t break my stare, voice low but steady. “I’m not asking again.”
Her expression didn’t falter, but I could see the change in her eyes, the challenge. She wasn’t going to make this easy.
“So what?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “What else are you going to do, Bishop? You’ve already tossed me in the fountain.”
The words should have sent a warning bell off in my head. Tossing her in the fountain just now was the least of the things I’d done to her. She had every reason to be scared, to fight back harder, but instead, she wore that grin like she was playing some twisted game with me. Maybe she was—maybe she’d convinced herself it didn’t matter anymore. But I knew better. Deep down, she knew the danger, even if she pushed it aside. She had to. Because if she didn’t, the anger would consume her, and the fear would break her.
Prescott’s words hung in the air between us like a challenge. And it wouldn’t be like me, if I wasn’t going to take advantage. So I did.
I let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “You think that’s all?” I took a step toward her, watching the way her eyes flickered, the way she didn’t flinch.
My hand snapped out to grab her by the neck, my fingers digging in just hard enough to make her breath hitch. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she met my grip with fire in her eyes. Good.
Without hesitation, I pulled her forward and crashed my lips onto hers, forceful, rough—no gentleness, just the raw, desperate energy that had been building between us. Her mouth was as hot as I’d imagined, hungry, untamed. Her kiss tasted like everything I desired and more.
But it was over too soon, her pulling back, her cheeks flushed, and breath ragged. “Bishop…”
I was acting on impulse, the smile on my lips carrying that sinister gleam again, the one that felt like the calm before a storm. I thought I’d liked hearing her say my name before, but now—there was something else clinging to it, like the last drag of a cigarette, hot and sharp on the inhale, then lingering in your lungs, leaving you with that smoky burn that made you want another. It was intoxicating, a dangerous addiction I couldn’t shake. That mix of heat and desire clinging to me in a way I couldn’t fight.
I didn’t care in that moment, stepping into the fountain right along with her, the cold water creeping up my legs as I tugged her back, still holding her throat with a grip that was both possessive and demanding.
“What just happened?” she panted, breathless, her eyes flicking between anger and something darker.
I stroked my thumb leisurely along her neck and cheek, my gaze never leaving her. A vein in her neck throbbed under my touch, pulsing in time with the rapid beat of her heart. I couldn’t look away from it, the delicate throb so fragile, the way my hand curled around her neck, like I could snap it with a single motion if I wanted to.
“Are you really going to pretend that didn’t just happen? Bishop—”
I kissed her again.
No softness, no hesitation—just pure, raw need.
The kiss was rough, almost violent, teeth clashing, lips biting. I kissed her like I hated her and wanted her all at once, because I did. I wanted to lose myself in her, to feel her fight me back. And she did. Her hands shot up, grabbing my shoulders, nails digging in as she matched my intensity.
My hand snaked tighter around her, gripping her long, damp, blonde locks—the ones I’d imagined touching a thousand times before, as she kneeled before me. I shoved her deeper into the fountain—rough, but she didn’t seem to mind. No, if anything, the troublemaker kissed me back harder in response.
This time, I was the one to pull away. And judging by the dilated, pitch-black eyes staring up at me, I had pulled back too soon.
She was panting, and a slow, cocky grin spread across my face, knowing full well I had done that to her, had affected her so thoroughly. I traced my thumb across her lips, and she let me.
I let out a short laugh, a dark, amused gleam in my eyes. I turn on my heel, stepping out of the fountain without a glance back.
I had somewhere else to be, anyway, and I was already running late. But if they knew what was good for them, they’d still be waiting. Time was something others gave to me, not the other way around.
“You’re late.”
I don’t bother responding. If they wanted one, they should’ve pointing out more than just the obvious.
“Do you think I enjoy wasting my time waiting around at this hour for students? Especially one who blackmails me into doing their business for them?” Atlas says, waving a stack of papers in front of me.
Too bad I didn’t care.
“Did you find what I asked for?” I say, letting the papers dangle between us.
His eyes lower briefly. “Why are you soaked from the knees down?”
I don’t respond. That’s not my question, and it’s none of his business. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the state of my clothes right now. After a long pause, he scoffs, finally dragging himself out of whatever deep thoughts he was mired in.
“I got as much as I could,” he mutters, waving the papers between us again.
I narrow my eyes, feeling my patience snap. “I didn’t ask for ‘as much as I could.’” My voice is clipped, the words slashing out like they’re meant to cut. “I asked for answers to my questions.”
He stumbles over his words, trying to justify his incompetence. “Well, this is all I have right now. Do you know how hard it is to dig up this information? How much time and resources I’m devoting to helping you?”
I glance at him, uninterested, as if his words mean nothing. Cam had done his homework after I asked if he could find anything on Prescott after she first arrived. And after some basic digging, there were odd crossovers in hers and Atlas’s histories—things he probably hoped would never resurface. In his early days, Atlas had made some questionable choices, environmentally speaking. A few funded research trips sponsored by companies with dirty reputations. A silent partnership with a private waste disposal group that had been caught dumping illegally.
It wasn’t illegal on his end—technically—but it would be enough to ruin the image he’s built now as the university’s eco-saint. The kind of stain that doesn’t come out once it hits the academic circles. To someone else, it might’ve been minor. But to a tenured professor preaching sustainability? It was everything. And that made him a prime target for anyone with leverage.
I don’t even bother glancing at the papers as they dangle from his hand. “This isn’t what I asked for.”
Atlas’s grip tightens on the papers, and I can feel the tension shift. He’s rarely frustrated, but it’s starting to show now. “Do you want what I have or not?” he growls, his patience finally cracking.
I meet his gaze, my expression cold and unreadable. “I asked for answers. This?” I gesture dismissively toward the loose stack of paper in his hand. “This is not what I asked for, and I don’t do half-assed.”
His jaw tightens, eyes flashing with a frustration I’m enjoying far too much. The calm, collected Atlas everyone’s used to is slipping, and I can’t help but revel in it.
“I’ll send word when to meet up again. You’d better have the answers I want by then,” I say, voice smooth, almost patronizing.
Atlas’s mouth falls open for a second, and I can practically hear the gears grinding in his head. “You aren’t even going to give me a deadline? How will I know when to produce it by?”
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds like your problem.”
“Get fucked, Bishop,” Atlas snaps, his voice echoing as I start to walk away, his frustration thick in the air.
I don’t even break stride, my steps steady and sure as I leave him fuming behind me. Just before I turn the corner, I murmur under my breath, low but sure. “Oh, I intend to.”