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Chapter 1: The First Move

Nyra's Pov

I did not believe in accidents.

That was the first thing I reminded myself as I stood behind the glass, watching the game unfold in front of me. The rink was loud, filled with people shouting, clapping, and calling out names, but none of that mattered to me. I was not there for the team, and I was not there for the game. I was there for one person.

Jace Ryder.

I had heard his name long before I ever saw him play. People talked about him like he was already something bigger than this place, like it was only a matter of time before he left and never looked back. When I finally saw him on the ice, I understood why.

He did not play like the others.

There was something controlled about him, even in the middle of chaos. He did not rush his movements, and he did not panic under pressure. Every pass, every turn, every decision looked intentional, like he already knew how everything would play out before it happened.

That kind of confidence was rare.

That kind of confidence could also be broken.

I kept my eyes on him as the game continued. His teammates moved around him, some trying to keep up, others relying on him to carry them through. I noticed the way they looked at him, the way they waited for him to take control when things started slipping. He was not just part of the team. He was the reason they were still in the game.

It made things easier for me.

I shifted my attention briefly to the people around me. The stands were full, not just with students, but with adults who did not look like they belonged there. Some of them were quiet, watching carefully instead of reacting like the others. I recognized that kind of attention. They were not here for entertainment.

They were here to choose.

That was how this worked. One player stood out, and the rest were forgotten.

My gaze moved back to the ice, and this time I looked at someone else.

Dylan Cruz.

He was good. Anyone who understood the game could see that. His movements were sharp, and he was paying attention to everything happening around him, but there was something different about the way he played. It was not confidence. It felt like he was trying to prove something every second he was on the ice.

That kind of energy did not come from nothing.

I watched him for a moment longer, then shifted back to Jace. There was no comparison. Jace did not chase the game. The game followed him.

That was why this was going to be a problem.

I already knew how this would end. If nothing changed, Jace would be the one they picked. He would leave, move forward, and everything would fall into place for him the way it always had.

I could not allow that to happen.

Not because I hated him, and not because I wanted to destroy him, but because he was exactly what I needed. The kind of attention he carried, the kind of influence he would have once he moved forward, it was something I could not replace with anyone else.

I needed him at the right time.

Not now.

The noise in the rink grew louder as the game reached its final minutes. The tension spread through the crowd, and people began to stand, watching more closely as the score remained tied. I stayed where I was, calm, patient, and focused.

Jace moved across the ice with the puck, and I followed him with my eyes. Two players tried to block him, but he moved past them without hesitation. It looked effortless, like he had done it a hundred times before.

He took the shot.

The puck hit the back of the net, and the entire place erupted.

People screamed, jumped, and pushed into each other in excitement, but I did not react. I simply watched him.

His teammates rushed toward him, grabbing onto him, shouting his name, celebrating like the game had already been won. He smiled, and for a moment, he looked exactly like what everyone believed he was.

Untouchable.

I let out a quiet breath and turned away from the glass.

The decision had been made, not by the scouts but by me.

As I walked out of the rink, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I stared at the screen for a few seconds before dialing a number I had already saved.

It rang once before the call connected.

“Are you sure?” the man on the other end asked.

I did not hesitate.

“Yes,” I said calmly. “It has to happen before the final match.”

There was a short pause on the line, like he was thinking about it, weighing the risk.

“And the target?” he asked.

I stopped walking for a moment, my grip tightening slightly around the phone.

“Jace Ryder,” I replied.

Another pause followed, longer this time.

Then he spoke again.

“It will be done.”

The call ended, and I lowered the phone slowly.

For a few seconds, I stood there in silence, listening to the distant noise of the crowd still celebrating behind me. Then I slipped the phone back into my pocket and continued walking like nothing had changed.

Because to me, nothing had, this was just the beginning, and every game needed a first move.

As I stepped outside, the cold air hit my face, but it did nothing to change the way I felt. I had already thought this through more times than I could count, and there was no part of me that wanted to go back on it.

 People like Jace did not stop unless something forced them to, and I was about to be that force. I knew what this would cost him, and I knew what it could turn him into later. That was the risk I was willing to take.