2: The Royal Elite Unit

~ Kaia ~

The bottle spun across the ice before coming to a stop. Every muscle in my body locked.

No. Not here. Not now.

I pushed off instinctively, reaching for it before anyone else noticed, but another skate slid in front of me. Black leather. Silver blades. A royal crest. The bottle stopped against the toe of the skate.

My pulse stumbled.

Slowly, the owner bent down and closed long fingers around the white plastic bottle. When he straightened, I found myself staring into a pair of cold grey eyes.

The tallest Pierce brother.

He turned the bottle over once. No label — thank God. Dad had insisted years ago that every emergency bottle stay completely blank. No names. No dosage. Nothing.

"What is it?" His voice was calm. Controlled. Almost too calm.

I swallowed. "Vitamins."

One dark eyebrow lifted. "For hockey?"

"I get migraines."

The lie came so easily it almost scared me.

He studied me for another second — not the bottle, me — like he was trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle only he could see. Finally, he held it out.

"Don't leave things lying around."

I took it quickly. "Thanks."

"Our rink isn't a place for carelessness."

*Our rink.* There was no arrogance in the words. Just fact.

Before I could answer, a whistle shrieked across the arena.

"Pierce!" A coach strode toward us. "Good. You're here."

The grey-eyed prince looked away first, and the strange pressure inside my chest eased just enough for me to breathe again. Barely.

"Freshmen!" Coach Dalton clapped loudly. "Center ice. Move!"

Players gathered around him in loose lines. I slipped into the back, hoping to disappear. That plan lasted exactly three seconds.

"Blackwood."

I looked up.

"You scored the fastest goal this morning."

Heat crept into my ears. "Luck."

A few players laughed. The coach didn't.

"I don't believe in luck." He folded his arms. "You'll demonstrate that shot again tomorrow."

A chorus of groans erupted around me. Great. Now everyone hated me.

I felt eyes on me. Not one pair. Several. When I glanced toward the captains, three of the Pierce brothers were still watching. The blond one looked openly curious. The dark-haired one beside him had his head tilted slightly, like he was solving a math problem. Only the grey-eyed captain had looked away.

Then there was Van.

He wasn't just watching me. He looked agitated — jaw flexed, hands clenched. One of the other captains leaned toward him and murmured something. Van didn't answer. His gaze stayed fixed on me.

Why? I'd never met him before today.

Practice officially began. The drills were brutal — sprint skating, passing, body checks, stick control. Exactly the kind of torture I'd secretly missed.

By the second hour my lungs burned. By the third, I was smiling. The ice had always made sense. People rarely did.

"Blackwood!"

I spun. A defenseman slammed into my shoulder, hard, and pain shot down my arm. I lost my balance.

The collision shouldn't have bothered me. It was hockey. It happened.

Except the player who hit me suddenly found himself shoved backward, violently, skidding several feet before catching himself.

"What the hell?"

Van. He stood between us, breathing wrong — too deep, too rough.

The defenseman glared. "I barely touched him."

Van took another step. "You hit him."

"It was legal."

"So?"

The temperature around us seemed to drop. The coach's whistle split the air.

"Enough!" Everyone froze. Coach Dalton looked between us. "What happened?"

"No idea," the defenseman muttered. "He lost his mind."

Van didn't deny it. He just kept staring at me, as if checking whether I was hurt.

I rubbed my shoulder awkwardly. "I'm fine."

His eyes flicked to where my hand rested. Only then did he step back. Something strange crossed his face — confusion, almost disappointment.

Practice ended an hour later. I escaped toward the benches before anyone could stop me. My shoulder still ached — nothing serious, just sore.

I unscrewed my emergency bottle. One pill remained in my palm. The warmth inside my chest hadn't settled since meeting the Pierce brothers. If anything, it was getting worse.

Maybe Dad was right. Maybe the excitement had triggered another episode.

I lifted the pill.

"Taking more already?"

I nearly dropped it again. A familiar blond captain leaned casually against the wall, smiling like we'd been friends for years.

"I wasn't spying," he said. "You just happen to look guilty."

"I get headaches."

He glanced at the pill. "Tough first day?"

"You could say that."

"I'm Luca."

"Kai."

"I know."

Of course he did. Everyone seemed to know everyone here except me.

Luca's smile widened. "You've got a nasty wrist shot."

"Thanks."

"You'll fit in."

Something warm settled in my chest — not the painful heat, something quieter. Friendlier.

Then another voice cut through the hallway. "Luca."

The grey-eyed captain stood several feet away, his expression unsoftened. "We're leaving."

Luca sighed dramatically. "There goes my social life." He pushed away from the wall. "See you around, Kai."

I watched him disappear. The grey-eyed captain didn't move. He simply looked at me again — cold, unreadable, like he was waiting for me to make a mistake. Then he turned and followed his brother.

"Attention!" Coach Dalton's voice echoed through the locker room. Players immediately fell silent. He unfolded a clipboard. "Training assignments."

A collective groan. Everyone knew what this meant. The academy divided players into elite training groups. Some were good. Some changed careers.

Coach Dalton began reading names. Students cheered, complained, argued. Then—

"Kai Blackwood."

I straightened.

"You've been reassigned."

A knot tightened in my stomach. Reassigned? Already?

Coach Dalton looked up from the clipboard. "You'll begin training tomorrow with the Royal Elite Unit."

Silence crashed over the locker room. Someone behind me whispered, "No way..." Another player actually laughed. "Poor guy."

I frowned. Why were they looking at me like that?

Coach Dalton continued as if nothing unusual had happened. "Captains Pierce will oversee your development personally."

My heart stopped.

No. No, no, no.

Dad's warning echoed in my head. *Stay away from the Pierce family.* I had promised him. Less than six hours ago.

Slowly, I looked across the room. The four brothers stood near the exit. Three of them looked surprised.

Van didn't. He was already looking at me, like he'd known all along.

And for the first time, he smiled.