Bait On The Hockey Rink

Chapter Four: The Blood Remembers

Lyra's POV

I sat frozen on the stone bench as Evander and Ronan loomed over me, the tension crackling like static before a storm. My death wish still burned steady in my chest, but their sudden interest felt heavier than the cold wind cutting through the academy grounds.

“Lyra,” Evander said first, his voice smooth like polished ice, the silver rod of authority resting casually in his hand. “Join Silverfang. I’ll drown you in wealth. Private suites overlooking the rink, designer everything—clothes, jewelry, whatever you want. I’ll fly you to the best hidden resorts in Europe after the season. Ski chalets in the Alps, yachts in the Mediterranean. Name it, and it’s bought. You’ll never want for anything again. Let me woo you properly. You deserve luxury, not this lone wolf bullshit.”

What? What now?

Ronan cut in before I could breathe, stepping closer with that aggressive fire in his eyes. “Luxury is soft s**t. Join NightClaw. We own the politics in this world—senators in our pockets, judges who look the other way. Street strength too. No one touches what’s ours. I’ll put real power in your hands. Bodyguards who crush bones on command, territories where enemies disappear overnight. You’ll walk like a queen and fight like one. I’ll make sure every rival pack fears your name. No more fragile Omega games.”

I shook my head, voice flat. “I chose the path of death. That’s still my choice. Kill me or leave me alone. I’m not joining anyone.”

Evander leaned in, eyes sharp and calculating. “Come on. I’ll take you places your bloodline only dreamed of. Paris penthouses, private islands. Cars, tech, influence—Silverfang turns money into weapons. You’ll have it all. Let me show you what real security feels like.”

“Yeah?” Ronan sneered, shoving past Evander’s shoulder. “We control the underground networks. Politicians bow. Streets run red when we say so. I’ll give you the strength to burn every enemy who ever looked at your family wrong. No more running. No more hiding that power inside you. Fight with us. Rule with us.”

The promises kept coming, wrapping around me like chains disguised as gifts. Wealth. Luxury. Power. Strength. They painted futures I never asked for, futures my family had died chasing in smaller doses.

Evander pushed forward again. “I’ll build you a safe haven right here. Funds for whatever you need—labs, trainers, everything to make life worth living. No more scraping by.”

Ronan laughed darkly. “Safe haven? We don’t hide. We dominate. I’ll hand you the kind of street muscle that makes alphas beg. Political leverage that topples houses. Choose NightClaw and watch the world bend.”

My mind spun. They were offering everything alphas had always dangled in front of Inkers. But something in their words felt too precise. Too knowing.

I stood up slowly. “I walk the path of death. If that means dying here, fine.”

Evander’s expression hardened. “Okay, I’ll help build whatever pack you want. What do you need? Tell me. Money opens every door.”

“What do you need?” Ronan echoed, voice rough. “Say it. NightClaw delivers.”

Evander shoved Ronan hard in the chest. “I’m the captain for this school this season. Alpha of alphas. Back off, Draven.”

Ronan returned the shove with a sneer, teeth flashing. “f**k you, Evan. This is beyond your little rod and your season. She’s bigger than your games.”

Students gathered fast at the edges of the path, Silverfangs lining up behind Evander, NightClaws behind Ronan. Murmurs spread like wildfire.

“She’s a curse…”

“Been an uproar since she stepped through the gates.”

“Omega lone wolf causing alphas to fight like pups…”

“Should’ve ended her on the ice…”

The words hit, but something worse clicked into place. The way they spoke about the specific offers, the hunger in their eyes. They weren’t guessing. They knew.

;

I turned to face them both, heart hammering. “Have you known?”

Evander and Ronan went dead silent. Their eyes flicked to the growing crowd, neither willing to confirm out loud. Not here. Not with ears listening.

My voice dropped, trembling with the dawning horror. “You know what I am?”

The silence stretched, heavy and damning. No denials. No confusion. Just cold, calculated stares from both of them. They knew I was an Inker. The last one. The map to Arcturus. They wanted to use me just like every alpha before them.

I turned on my heel and walked away, boots crunching against the frozen ground. Their voices called after me, but I didn’t stop. The crowd parted with sneers and whispers, but I pushed through, mind reeling.

They know.

Memories flooded in as I moved deeper into the academy grounds, away from their reach.

Father’s face first, strong jaw, tired eyes. Used by alphas who promised protection for fragments of our knowledge. They drained him dry until a rival decided he was a threat. Killed in our living room while I hid. Never trust them, he’d gasped.

Mother came next. Married another alpha for safety. Poisoned at a summit two years later. I found her cold body on cold marble.

My older sisters followed the curse. One wed to a strategist like Evander, the other to a brute like Ronan. Both used for the bloodline secrets. Both dead young, “accidents,” ambushes, silenced forever. All for the same tomb. The same sleeping King.

Grandparents. Ancestors. Generations of Inkhart. All dead while serving or fleeing alphas. Our line erased piece by piece because we carried the route to unimaginable power.

And now these two, wealthy Evander and powerful Ronan knew exactly who I was. They wanted the map in my blood. The path to Arcturus. Just like their fathers.

I stopped near a cluster of bare trees, breath visible in the cold. Silverfang’s endless money. NightClaw’s brutal political and street strength. The two forces that had destroyed my family for centuries now fought over me with pretty promises.

A new thought sliced through the grief, sharp and deliberate.

Maybe I can leverage this life.

I wouldn’t choose one. I wouldn’t repeat their mistakes. I would play them against each other. Become the missing piece that jammed their rivalry into something I could control. Use Silverfang’s wealth to fund my survival. Use NightClaw’s strength to shield myself. Pit them until they tore each other apart, while I pulled every string.

No more running toward death like my bloodline. I would make death wait. I would make *them* pay for every ancestor they stole.

I turned back toward the path where they still stood with their packs watching.

“I’ll use you both.” I said I to myself.

The declaration hung in the air like a challenge. The Inker blood stirred, not with fear, but with cold, calculated purpose. Let the alphas chase. Let the rivalry burn hotter. I was no longer just prey.

For the first time, I felt something close to alive.