Chapter 2 THE DEVILS.

Ezra's pov. 

The arena was packed with both players practicing their skills on the ice, and some spectators drooling over how good the players looked. 

Everything felt normal. Except the coldness. 

The place was colder than it usually was, but no one looked affected. It was like I was the only one freezing to death. 

I sat at the bench, polishing the stakes of the team while the guys were out on the rink moving around, blades scraping the ice, laughing and shoving each other around like the game was already won.

I couldn't help but feel jealous. But going on that ice would mean exposure. 

So I just had to do what I was best in without being seen — serving people. 

The coach blew his whistle and waved everyone in. I stood up immediately. 

Someone's shoulder bumped into mine from behind. It was clearly intentional. 

I hit the floor before I could stop myself, one hand catching ice, the skate sliding out of my grip and spinning away.

The arena exploded in laughter. 

“Ezra, get up,” Coach said, not even looking at me properly. “Stop rolling around on my rink.”

More laughter.

I got up, picked the stake and walked over. The dude who bumped into me was staring at me with a grin like he had just won something. 

The team gathered around Coach in a loose circle, still buzzing from practice, sweat on their faces despite the cold. I stood at the back where I always stood.

“Alright,” Coach started, clapping his hands once. “I want everyone's head in the game this week. This isn't a small match. This is big. Regional eyes are going to be on us.”

The team responded. 

Cheering, talking over each other, fists bumping.

I stayed quiet.

“We've been working hard,” Coach continued. “And it shows. I believe in this team.”

“Because we're the best,” someone called out. 

More cheering.

“No one's beating us,” another voice said. “Especially not some newbies. They probably just learned how to skate.”

Laughter again. 

Coach let them have the moment, then raised a hand. “I hear you,” he said. “And I'm not going to stand here and pretend you're not good. You are good.” He paused. “But I asked around about this team. And the word coming back isn't small. People say they're good. Very good.” 

Silence for a second.

Then the captain, Dre, laughed. “C'mon coach,” he said, spreading his hands. “Trust us. We've got this.” He turned to the team. “Right?”

The rink exploded.

They were loud and certain and completely sure of themselves. Dre fed off it, grinning, saying something that made them cheer again. I didn't catch the words. I was already thinking about the pile of uniforms sitting in the corner.

The coach talked to them again, and finally ended the practice. They walked out in groups, talking, tossing their gear down wherever they stood.

“Fuck them,” Theo cursed under his breath. 

Theo was just like me. We were not friends. But circumstances had made us grow closer. The rest of the team hated us and treated us like trash, and we had high hopes that one day we will play with the team, so we usually stayed together. 

“It's not that bad,” I muttered, trying to encourage him, even though I didn't feel so encouraged about the whole situation. 

“I asked the coach if we could join the guys to play after this game, the bastard laughed and dismissed it,” he complained. “This dude doesn't respect us.” 

I shook my head. “I'm sure he does. It's just a matter of time.”

“I'm out of here if coach doesn't give me a chance,” he spat, walking to the bench. 

Unlike him, I wasn't eager to get on that ice. I just wanted to play it low till I was sure I could acetal fight those vampires if they came for me. 

I started picking things up.

“Ezra.”

I looked up.

Coach walked over to me, scribbling something on his notepad. 

“Make sure the uniforms are clean before Thursday. All of them.”

I opened my mouth to protest. The last time I did it, the boys made me do their personal laundry and that of their friends. 

“The team cannot fail,” he said, before I could get a word out. “You know that. And one day, if you keep showing up, you'll be on that ice too.”

One day.

I had been hearing one day for a year.

I closed my mouth and nodded.

He left.

I finished gathering everything, stacked what needed stacking, and made my way to class with the bag of uniforms over one shoulder.

I sat in the back of the classroom. I kept my head down, took notes I barely needed because I had read everything already the night before. Reading was something I had plenty of time for when you had no social life to speak of.

Halfway through the lecture, something moved along my skin.

A feeling I couldn't name. But it had to do with being watched. 

I looked up slowly, scanning the room. Everyone was facing forward. Nobody was looking at me.

I quickly concluded that I was just paranoid. 

I continued jotting, but the feeling did not go away. It settled deeply like a dream I couldn't get rid of no matter how hard I tried. 

After class, I picked my things and rushed out. 

I kept my head down and moved through the hallway. The feeling grows stronger with each passing second. 

Footsteps behind me. Or something like footsteps. I couldn't be sure.

I turned.

Nobody there. At least nobody was looking in my direction. 

Everything was normal. 

My phone buzzed.

I almost jumped out of my skin. 

Some girls passing by stared at me in disgust as I scrambled to pick up my things that I fell to the ground. 

I pulled out my phone, and checked the message. 

Coach: Come to my office. Now.

“Fuck,” I cursed. 

What does he want from me now?

I picked up my things and walked to the office. 

He was already seated when I walked in. He looked tired like he was going to give out any moment from now. 

This was the first time I've seen coach so nervous about a game. He was always nervous, but not like this. Which meant he knew something about our rival that we don't know. 

He might actually be scared of losing to them. 

“The rival team,” he said, getting straight to it. “They had a problem with their accommodation. Hotel fell through last minute. So they're staying on campus tonight.”

I nodded slowly.

“I need you to sort out the rooms. Talk to whoever you need to talk to. Get at least four rooms cleared and ready.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Good man.”

The door opened behind me.

The rival coach walked in. Older man, but very handsome and well built. He and Coach shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and he thanked Coach for the accommodation. 

Coach waved it off like it was nothing, even though he looked so uncomfortable. This was also the first time coach was acting so nice to anyone, but the team members. Even the vice chancellor hates his guts. 

Wow, this school must really be very important. 

“Least we could do,” Coach said. Then he looked at the door. “Why don't you introduce us to your captain?”

The rival coach turned and called out. “Hey, come on in.” 

The door pushed open, and four men walked in.

My entire body stopped.

Not slowed. Stopped. Like someone had reached inside my chest and turned everything off at once.

Four of them.

“Meet the quads,” the rival coach said, smiling like he was presenting something wonderful.

My soul left my body.

Because standing in front of me, in hockey jackets, looking completely unbothered by the world, were the four people I had spent every single day of the last year running from.

My masters.

The Voss quadruplets.