Bait On The Hockey Rink

Lyra's POV "I am Elder Karl, welcome to Vespera Academy, Omegas," he sniffed. I stood in the open school yard with only one other new transfer beside me, Cassius. The cold bit deep, but I barely felt it. My mind spun on two things at once. This Elder Karl looked barely nineteen, sharp and unaged. Elders were supposed to be old, wrinkled, gray-haired, and crippled. Not this. And then, how did he know that we were Omegas? "Omegas," Elder Karl said, his voice carrying that mix of coy playfulness and something far older, far more dangerous. "Such delicate little sparks in a world of wolves. How deliciously doomed you smell today." The students already at the academy ringed us, eyes locked on. I saw different sigils, belonging to different packs. "Here at Vespera, we do not tolerate lone wolves," Karl continued, pacing with slow confidence. "Packs are survival. You have four options, little pups. Luxury to hardship. Choose wisely, or don’t. It amuses me either way." He gestured smoothly. "House Silverfang. Strong in finance. They build empires while others bleed. They enforce with money, and they dictate with it. They can buy anybody and anything, the can even buy your existence. Join them and your worries become investments." A group of sleek students straightened, silver tooth pendants catching the light. "House NightClaw," he went on, tone dropping with a growl that still carried that strange, funny edge, like he was sharing a private joke with the wind. "Strong in power. Raw. Glorious. They rip what they want from the jaws of rivals. They stand toe to toe with money and tear it up when it gets in their way. Blood and victory." Broader students on the right smirked, flashing paw-studded rings. "House Blackthorn," Karl said with a theatrical sigh, lips curving in dark humor. "The rogue house. Less freedom, more wars to fight. You’ll bleed often, but boredom will never claim you. Their thorns bite deep." Scattered students with thorn hand bands chuckled. The crowd laughed, sharp and hungry. Cassius stepped forward first. "I’ll join Silverfang," he said, voice steady. Silverfang students moved in fast. They draped a chain with a silver tooth around his neck and dragged him toward their side with rough claps on the back. I scanned the sigils. NightClaws with their paw studs and rings. Blackthorns with thorn bands. Only three packs ruling here? "Gurl, what is it?" someone called. All eyes snapped to me. Elder Karl’s voice cut through. "Well?" "I..." I stuttered. Then I lifted my chin. "What’s the fourth option?" Mumbles rippled through the crowd. "Is she crazy?" "No one has ever asked." "She wants death?" I scoffed inside. Exactly. The last mumble hit clear: "Death!" Moon Goddess, yes. I wanted it. I’d chase it until it took me. Please, don’t let death elude me this time. The curse had taken all but me: the house of the inker shall be as chaff in the wind, but only by an alpha… let the clan that knows where the Lycan king sleeps be rented… thus his fury won't be on us… Elder Karl tilted his head, that silver streak in his hair flashing. His expression turned coy, powerful, laced with terror and amusement all at once. "The fourth option is being a lone wolf. An alpha of a pack that won’t exist. Bear in mind, little Omega, this path means you won’t survive the day. The school order might want to keep you, but the order that works within us will prey on you." He paused, letting the words sink like claws, then smiled with dark humor. "I’ll ask again. Silverfang for strategy and wealth. NightClaw for raw dominance. Blackthorn for the thrill of endless battle. Or solitude... and the sweet release that follows." Silence pressed down. I heard my own heartbeat. No survival. Only death. And I welcomed it. "I’ll walk the path of death," I said, voice clear now. "Let’s see the bitches and motherfuckers who’d try me." The crowd exploded. They yelled, jeering, shouting for me to say my last prayer. Insults flew thick, harsh, excited, bloodthirsty. A loud whistle cut everything off. Someone shoved me hard. I hit the frozen ground, fear flashing for half a second, then gladness. Trample me. End it now. But no one did. Cassius broke from the Silverfangs and strode over. He hauled me up by the arm. "Are you crazy? You want to die?" "If they can kill me, why avoid it?" I shot back, brushing dirt from my hands. "I see you want death," he growled, eyes stormy, "and you’ll get it soon if you don’t denounce your choice. The NightClaw and Silverfang reached the ice hockey final. That’s why they spare you now. After the game, the alpha of the winning team will pass the judgment." I smiled, tasting frost and dirt. A game, then death by the winning alpha’s hands. Sweet. Perfect. Elder Karl watched from where he stood, arms crossed. "Bold little Omega," he called, voice rolling with that powerful, coy terror and funny bite. "The Moon Goddess does love a fool who runs toward the fangs. But remember, death has a way of teasing before it bites." He clapped once, sharp and final. "Enough theater for today, pups. The lone wolf has spoken. Let the packs feast their eyes on her... for now. The finals approach. Blood will spill on the ice. And perhaps, if the Moon wills it, on this foolish girl as well." The crowd dispersed into their factions, dragging new members along. Cassius lingered near me, watching like I was broken. Silverfangs eyed me with cold calculation. NightClaws with open hunger. Blackthorns with rogue curiosity. The ice rink waited somewhere beyond the yard like the battlefield it was. I didn’t flinch. For the first time in forever, I felt the pull of something real. The rivalry between those two houses, Silverfang and NightClaw hung thick. Their young alphas would lead the charge on the ice. And I would be the prize for whichever one won. Death, or whatever came after that final game, was coming for me. I was ready.