Prologue
*Five years ago*
The ice was perfect tonight.
I knew this rink better than I knew anything else in the world. Every scratch in the boards, every uneven patch in the ice—I had memorized it all. But tonight, something was different. Not the ice itself, but me.
This was my final practice before I left for the Olympics. My last night skating in this empty rink before stepping onto the world’s biggest stage. A strange, electric energy buzzed through my veins, excitement and nerves tangling together.
I launched into my program, feeling the familiar burn in my muscles as I flew across the ice. The world outside this rink didn’t exist—not the cameras, not the expectations, not the pressure that threatened to crush me.
Just the ice. Just me.
I pushed harder, skating into a triple axel. The jump that had once terrified me, that had taken years to perfect.
One. Two. Three. Landed.
The second my blade connected with the ice, I heard Coach’s voice echo across the rink.
“That’s it, Ev! Nailed it!”
I grinned, breathing hard.
One more combination. One more push. I had to make it perfect.
I powered into a footwork sequence, my movements sharp and precise, my body an extension of the music.
A deep exhale. Final spin. The wind rushed past my ears as I centered myself, slowing to a graceful stop, arms outstretched.
Silence.
Then—applause.
“Incredible.” Coach Melanie skated toward me, eyes gleaming with pride.
“You’re more than ready, Evelyn. That was flawless.”
I bent forward, resting my hands on my knees as I caught my breath. Sweat dripped down my temple, but I barely noticed. My heart was still hammering from the rush.
“I can’t believe it’s here,” I admitted, straightening. “My whole life, I’ve imagined this moment—my last practice before the Olympics.”
Melanie nodded. “And now it’s real. You leave tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. God.
I let the thought settle in my chest. Tomorrow, I’d be on a plane to Europe. In a few days, I’d be stepping onto Olympic ice, under the brightest lights in the world.
I swallowed hard. This was everything I had ever wanted.
Melanie handed me a water bottle. “I don’t want you overworking yourself tonight. One last cooldown lap, then off the ice. You need rest.”
I hesitated, reluctant to leave. But I nodded.
One last lap.
I pushed off, gliding across the ice, letting myself memorize the feeling—the cold air against my skin, the rhythmic sound of the blades carving into the ice.
I wanted to remember this moment forever.
Because soon, everything would change.
The drive home was quiet.
I hummed along to the song playing on the radio, my fingers drumming against the steering wheel. My bag sat in the passenger seat, skates tucked inside. The same skates that, in just a few days, I’d wear at the Olympics.
I still couldn’t quite believe it. I was really going.
My phone buzzed. At a red light, I glanced at the screen.
Noah:Mom says don’t stay up late. You need sleep.
Noah:Also, bring me something from Europe. Like an Olympic hoodie.
I smirked, shaking my head.Annoying little brothers.I thought but immediately texted him back.
Evelyn:You’re the worst.
Evelyn:But fine. Only because I’m the best sister ever.
The light turned green. I dropped the phone back into the cupholder and pressed my foot against the gas.
The road stretched ahead, empty except for the glow of distant headlights. Snow drifted lazily from the sky, settling in soft layers on the pavement.
I was so close.
The headlights grew brighter.
Too close.
A car. Coming fast.
My stomach lurched.
The other driver wasn’t stopping. They weren’t stopping.
Tires screeched.
My breath caught in my throat.
Then—impact.
Metal crunched. The world jerked sideways. The car spun, flipping once, twice—
Glass shattered.
My head slammed into the window. Pain. Blinding, sharp pain.
Then—stillness.
For a second, all I could hear was the high-pitched ringing in my ears.
My chest rose and fell in quick, uneven gasps. My fingers trembled as I tried to move, tried to make sense of where I was. The car was on its side, windshield cracked, snow drifting in through the broken glass.
Something smelled burnt.
I needed to get out.
I tried shifting in my seat. My right leg moved.
My left—
Nothing.
My breath hitched. No.
I forced myself to look down.
My leg was trapped. Pinned beneath the twisted metal of the driver’s side door.
Blood. Too much of it.
My hands shook. A low, choked noise slipped from my throat.
This isn’t happening.
This isn’t happening.
I was supposed to leave for the Olympics tomorrow.
I was supposed to skate in front of the world.
I was supposed to—
The sound of sirens blurred into the background.
The last thing I saw before darkness took over was the blood staining the snow.
