The Ice Queen’s Secret Revenge

The Academy That Took My Brother 

Scarlett’s POV

The day I left Mooncrest High, I made myself a promise: I would find out who killed my brother.

I stared at the transfer confirmation on my phone, reading the same message for the fifth time. My transfer to Darkridge Academy had been approved and effective immediately.

I should have felt relieved.

Instead, it felt as though I were watching my old life disappear in front of me.

I had given up my captaincy of Mooncrest’s figure-skating team and my chance to join the national team. Since I was seven, I had spent countless early mornings on the ice, training until my muscles ached and my legs trembled. I had worked for years to become one of Mooncrest’s best skaters, and now I was walking away from all of it because of a decision I had made myself.

I was giving it all up for Caleb, my twin brother.

He had been one of Darkridge’s rising stars on the ice. By his second year, he was already the captain of the hockey team, and he was good enough to make scouts travel from other places just to watch him play. Everyone at Darkridge loved Caleb. At least, that was what it looked like from the outside.

Those same people stood in front of reporters after his death and told the world that Caleb’s death had been nothing more than a tragic accident.

They claimed he had some kind of condition that he’d been treating secretly until his heart finally failed during the competition. According to them, there had been nothing anyone could have done.

I had never believed them, not even for a second.

The doctors had given the academy’s story a medical-sounding explanation, but no one had shown me the full report. Every time I asked for it, someone found a reason to delay.

Caleb hated hospitals. He hated needles even more and would avoid them whenever he could. If something had really been wrong with his heart or his health, I knew he would have told me. We were twins. He was my best friend, and we had shared everything since we were children. 

Then I found something suspicious on his blade.

It was weeks after his funeral when I found it in the box the school had sent home with some of his belongings. His training skate was inside, wrapped up with the rest of his things. I almost put it away without looking closely, but something caught the light on the edge of the skate.

I pulled it out and stared at it.

There was a deep, clean cut across the blade. It wasn’t damage from overuse, and it wasn’t something that could have happened by accident. Someone had done it deliberately. 

That was the moment grief turned into a question I could no longer ignore: if the damage was deliberate, what else had the academy lied about?

I stopped trying to accept Caleb’s death. I stopped listening to people telling me to move on. If the school was lying about what happened to my brother, then I was going to find out why.

And now I was standing outside Darkridge Academy, the place that had taken my brother from me and then called it fate.

I had left behind everything I had built at Mooncrest just to come here. I knew I was walking into a place where people might not want me asking questions, but I didn’t care anymore. Caleb deserved justice, and I would not stop until I found out what had really happened to him.

“Scarlett?”

I turned at the sound of my name.

A tall man wearing Darkridge’s academy uniform was walking toward me, a clipboard tucked under one arm. He looked at me for a moment before glancing down at the papers in his hand.

“You’re Scarlett, right?”

“Yes, I am," I replied.

“Coach Logan Vale,” he said, holding out his hand. “I was told to expect you.”

I shook his hand. “That’s me.”

“Welcome to Darkridge.” His voice was warm and kind enough that it was hard not to feel comfortable around him. He looked at his wristwatch. “Come on. My office is this way. Let’s get you settled before it gets too late.”

I followed him across the courtyard and into a smaller building beside the main hall. His office was cozy, with a desk, a few framed pictures of old teams, and a stack of folders arranged in one corner. He gave me a quick explanation of the training schedule, and handed me a brass key.

“Room 214, opposite the Residence Hall. Practice starts Monday, so use today and tomorrow to get settled.”

“I will,” I said. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly. “If you need anything, come find me.”

“Okay. Thanks again.”

I slipped the key into my pocket and followed him outside.

The moment he walked away toward the main building, my eyes drifted across the courtyard.

The rink was just beyond the courtyard, its glass doors reflecting the last bit of daylight. I stopped without meaning to.

Caleb had played here many times.

I had seen pictures of him in this rink countless times. He used to send them to me after games, smiling like he had just won the world. I could still hear his voice whenever he called to tell me about a match, especially when his team had won.

My chest tightened as I stared at the doors.

I told myself I only wanted to look. I would go inside for a minute, then leave.

That was all.

The arena was empty when I stepped inside. The ice was smooth and untouched, and the silence around me felt too heavy. I walked toward the barrier and rested my hand against it, staring at the empty rink as I imagined Caleb out there, laughing and chasing a puck, just like he had always been. It was hard to connect that image with the boy I had been forced to identify at the morgue.

How could someone take a person’s life and then convince an entire school that it had been nothing more than an accident?

I didn’t even know how long I had been standing there when a sound suddenly came from somewhere near the locker rooms.

I froze.

Practice must have ended hours ago. There was no reason for anyone to still be here this late. Every sensible part of me told me to leave, but instead, I followed the sound down the narrow hallway. A single bulb flickered above me, making the walls look even darker. My footsteps echoed through the empty building, and with every step, the uneasy feeling in my chest grew stronger.

Then I heard the shower turn off.

I heaved a sigh of relief and turned back to leave, but before I could make myself move, the bathroom door opened.

A man stepped out with a towel hanging around his neck. His hair was still wet, water dripping down his skin, and he wasn’t wearing anything else. The moment he saw me, he didn’t look surprised. He didn’t even try to cover himself. Instead, he smirked slightly, as if he found me standing there more amusing than strange.

“Hi,” he said calmly. “Who are you, and how may I help you?”

My thoughts went blank as I recognized him.

I had seen him in the pictures Caleb used to show me, always with his jaw tight and his eyes filled with anger. I had heard his name in countless stories about the boy who had been my brother’s biggest rival long before either of them ever stepped onto a championship rink.

Draven Laurent.

My brother’s sworn enemy.

Darkridge’s new hockey captain.

And the person sitting at the very top of my list of suspects.