Of course they’re talking about Lena again. They always are. I sit on the bench at the training rink, arms crossed, watching the younger girls practice. They’re giggling, whispering, glancing at me like I’m some kind of celebrity. I should be flattered. I should be enjoying this. But all I can think about is how everything was supposed to be different. Lena Merritt was finally out of the way. My plan worked. Perfectly.
She never saw it coming, the loose screw on her blade, the one I nudged just enough. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to make her unstable. Just enough to make her fall.
She was always too perfect. Too graceful. Too loved. I couldn’t beat her one‑on‑one, not with the way the coaches worshipped her. But I could replace her. And I did. Or I should have.
But instead of
