Bait On The Hockey Rink

Chapter Two - The Wolf that won't die

Lyra's POV

The rink thrummed with violence as I sat on the cold bleachers, eyes glued to the ice. Cassius shifted beside me, tense. The Blackthorn rogues glared from the opposite side, thorny bands gleaming under the harsh lights. Silverfang and NightClaw sections dominated everything else, roaring for blood.

I picked out the captains instantly. Evander Ashbourne for Silverfang, tall, sharp features, neat dark hair tucked under his helmet. Every move calculated, ambitious fire in his posture.

Ronan Draven for NightClaw, broader, messy dark waves, raw aggression in his stance. Both so young, so powerful, so alive. Handsome in that devastating way that made my stomach twist. Part of me, the young, stupid part that still wanted things, desired them. Their strength, their drive. I was young too, ambitious once. But life wasn’t equal. Even if I got the life that I wanted, a family, a kid of mine, they'd end up killed once our bloodline is discovered. I wanted death.

The puck dropped. Chaos erupted.

NightClaw charged first. Ronan slammed a Silverfang defender into the boards with a crunch that echoed through the arena. Sticks clashed like swords. A Silverfang winger stole the puck, only for two NightClaws to sandwich him against the glass. The hit rattled the plexi. Crowd exploded.

Evander directed from center, threading a perfect pass. Goal! Silverfang fans screamed.

Then Ronan answered, skating like a freight train, shoulder-checking a Silverfang player so hard the guy flipped. Blood sprayed on the ice. Payback came fast: Evander’s enforcer drove Ronan toward the corner. Sticks tangled. Fists flew. Refs blew the whistle but the fight spilled anyway.

“Lyra, please live,” Cassius begged, gripping my sleeve. “You don’t have to do this.”

I shook my head, leaning forward. “This is the closest I’ve come to death. I’m not blowing it.”

The game stayed brutal. NightClaw scored on a power play after a questionable trip. Silverfang answered with a bone-rattling check that left a NightClaw player limping. Subs flooded in during every stoppage, fresh bodies crashing in, but both captains stayed on the ice, Evander cool and commanding, Ronan a storm of elbows and speed.

Another vicious hit near our section. A Silverfang player crashed into the boards right below us, helmet cracking against the glass. The crowd chanted for more. Ronan stole the puck in the scramble and fired it home. Tie game.

“Why do you want to die?” Cassius pressed, voice desperate over the roar.

I stayed silent. The violence pulled me in—the speed, the crashes, the raw hatred between the packs. I caught myself grinning. Then I remembered. This was supposed to be my end.

“f**k it,” I muttered. “End this s**t and end me.”

“Why do you want to die, Lyra?” He asked again.

“Because sooner or later, it will happen!” I barked.

“I can help you, if you'd…” he paused to look around. Then back to me. “If you'd do as I say…”

“f**k off, Cassius!” I returned to the game.

Final minutes turned savage. Evander threaded through defenders, dishing a pass that led to a brutal screen in front of the net. Goal! Silverfang up by one. Ronan retaliated immediately, cross-checking a Silverfang player, drawing another penalty. Refs interfered again, waving off a clear goal for NightClaw. Boos rained down. Fights broke out on the benches.

Buzzer. Silverfang won.

Their players collided in a pile of sticks and helmets, shouting victory. Their pack and cheerleader team rushed to hug their boyfriends on ice. The cup was celebrated, and then, the celebration short-lived.

Elder Karl glided to center ice. “Silverfang claims victory!” His voice boomed, coy and commanding. “Evander Ashbourne, as alpha, receives the rod of authority. Lead this season, boy. Make it hurt.”

He handed over the carved silver rod. Then pointed straight at me. “And now… the lone wolf.”

Silence crashed over the arena. I smiled. Finally.

Ronan ripped off his helmet, face twisted in fury, messy dark waves, strong jaw clenched, those intense eyes burning with loss. He barked at his team. NightClaw players followed him off the ice, their pack trailing behind, heads low as the weight of defeat sank in. They didn’t even glance my way. Just gone.

Only Evander remained. He skated toward the boards near my section, Elder Karl beside him on the ice. The crowd stayed frozen in the stands, waiting, hungry for the order that would end me.

Evander stopped right in front of me and removed his helmet. Neat dark hair fell perfectly into place, framing a face that hit me like a check into the boards, sharp, ambitious eyes that saw everything, strong jaw, handsome in a way that made my breath catch despite everything. Young, powerful, the kind of alpha who could rule worlds. He already had the money, and as their heir, he'd grow to lead his household, on finance and field. I desired that fire for a stupid second. Then I remembered who I was.

The entire arena watched, packs leaning forward, waiting for him to pronounce my death.

Evander raised the rod. Said nothing at first.

From the back, one alpha shouted, “We don’t want another pack in this academy! Not one led by an Omega b***h. She’s to die. Now!”

I stood tall. Say it. Motherfucker. Kill me.

Silence descended.

He stared with deep white eyes, as though he was looking through me to see what's behind the face.

I grew weary of the stare and silence. Maybe a bit of agitation would do. “Say the word, motherfucker. Kill me,” I barked.

Evander scoffed, loud enough for the front rows. “This has never happened before. And this one particularly, I can see that she wants to die.” He glanced at the rod, then at me, those piercing eyes locking on. “As sovereign pack and alpha of alphas for this season, I won't put her out of her misery… she lives.”

The arena detonated.

“What?” voices roared from the remaining crowd.

“You spare the lone wolf?”

“Coward!” someone else yelled.

“He’s a p***y! Evander Ashbourne, a p***y!”

“Why spare her? End the Omega!”

Silverfang students surged forward. “He’s the alpha of alphas!” they shouted back. “What he says is final this season! Back off!”

Cassius grabbed my arm. “Lyra…”

I yanked free. The clamor grew. Packs screaming across the ice, insults flying, bodies shoving near the exits. Elder Karl stood beside Evander, his young face split in a coy, terrifying smile, clearly amused by the chaos.

Evander didn’t wait. He turned and walked off without another word, Elder Karl after him. His team followed, still arguing but obeying.

Students filed out, sneering as they passed me. “Freak.”

“Dead girl walking.”

“Silverfang weakness.”

No one touched me. Just glares. Why can't they go against the Alpha? Back in those days, ten years ago, the days when my bloodline were annihilated, there was no order. But the urban world was not like that.

“What!” I shouted, voice echoing in the emptying rink. “Again? No!”

Everyone kept leaving. Cassius got pulled away by Silverfangs. The ice cleared. The stands emptied. Until I stood completely alone.

I lifted my eyes to the harsh arena lights. “Why can’t I just die?” My voice cracked. “Why did he save me?”

The words faded into the cold air. No answer. Just the distant echo of sticks and the weight of Evander’s decision chaining me to life again. His face, those ambitious eyes, that perfect control, all burned in my mind. I had wanted death so badly. Desired nothing else. But life, unfair as always, had other plans.

I sank onto the bench, fists tight. The game’s violence still hummed in my veins, but death had slipped away once more. Evander Ashbourne had chosen mercy, or whatever his strategic mind called it. Ronan Draven had stormed off with his pack, loss heavy on them. The whole academy hated me deeper now.

And I still breathed.

“Moon Goddess,” I whispered bitterly. “You cruel b***h. What game are you playing with me?”