Chapter 142: Scarlet and Oracle

Oracle Pov

The air inside the Falcons Ice Rink was arctic, smelling faintly of shaved ice and damp wool.

I stood near the entrance of the bleachers, my arms crossed tightly across my chest, my hands tucked into the warm sleeves of my coat. The physical pain in my chest was completely gone, replaced by a cold, hollow awe as I watched Lorali gliding across the pristine white surface.

She was breathtaking.

Away from the poisonous politics of the Spade pack, away from the bitter rage and the bloody squabbles of our living room, Lorali looked like a completely different creature. She wore a fitted black athletic jacket and dark leggings, her long purple hair that I am still struggling to get used to was pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail. She moved with an effortless, lethal grace, her blades cutting into the ice with a sharp, rhythmic shhh-shhh sound that echoed off the empty bleachers. Every leap, every extension of her leg, every fluid turn was executed with absolute, uncompromising perfection.

"She really is something else, isn’t she?"

A low, calm voice broke through the quiet hum of the arena.

I didn’t turn my head, but my eyes flicked sideways to see Scarlet stepping up to the wooden barrier beside me. She was wrapped in a thick parka, holding a steaming paper cup of coffee, her sharp, experienced eyes tracking Lorali’s movements across the ice.

"She has an anger inside her," Scarlet continued softly, taking a slow sip of her drink. "Most skaters let their anger ruin their balance. It makes them sloppy. It makes them rush their edges. But Lorali? She converts her rage into pure precision. I’ve trained dozens of national contenders, even my own girl as you know, Oracle, but I’ve never seen anyone use pure spite as an engine quite like she does."

"She has every right to be angry," I rasped out, my voice rough and gravelly. My eyes never left Lorali’s silhouette as she spun into a blindingly fast scratch spin, the ice spray catching the bright overhead lights like crushed diamonds.

Scarlet turned her head slightly, offering me a long, evaluating look. "You look like hell."

"I deserve to look worse," I muttered bitterly.

"Maybe, I don’t know what’s happening in Spade Pack but I can guess it’s not good even though she said everything was fine." Scarlet replied, completely unbothered by my hostile tone. "She told me you’re her personal shadow now. Her driver. Her footman. She said many things but her Alpha was not one of them." A small, wry smile touched the corner of the coach’s lips. "I have to admit, seeing a ruthless lawyer like you carrying a glittery purple duffel bag is a vision I never thought I’d see in my lifetime."

"I will carry whatever she tells me to carry," I said, my voice dead serious, devoid of a single trace of pride. "If she asked me to lay down on the ice so she could skate over my throat, I’d pull my collar down for her."

Scarlet let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. "That’s insane it takes a lot to piss in Omega off and you clearly did it. I wonder how but I can’t say that I’m upset. It has made her skating 10 times better since the last time I saw her. You truly push the buttons."

I chose to keep quiet and Scarlet, seeing me not answer, blew on her hot coffee, her eyes shifting back to the ice.

Lorali POV

I glided to a smooth, two-footed stop near the rink barrier, spraying a light curtain of ice against the plexiglass as Scarlet stepped onto the ice, her blades clicking smartly against the frozen floor.

"Alright, take a breather," Scarlet said, pulling her phone from her jacket pocket. "We have a change of schedule."

I wiped a thin bead of sweat from my forehead with the back of my wrist, my chest heaving slightly. "What kind of change?"

"The Aurelia Grand Prix has been pushed up," Scarlet said, showing me the updated event notice on her screen. "It was originally scheduled for three weeks from now, but the High Court Athletics Board moved it to the end of this current week due to some political venue scheduling. That gives us four days."

My eyes narrowed. The Aurelia Grand Prix was one of the oldest, most prestigious local figure skating competitions in the country, carrying over sixty years of elite history. It wasn’t a championship but winning it would put your name on something.

"Four days?" I muttered, tapping my skate blade against the ice. "That means our training schedule doubles."

"Triples," Scarlet corrected smoothly. "We’re doing three-hour morning sessions and two-hour evening sessions starting tomorrow. And to kick things off, I want to add a new footwork sequence to your short program. Watch me."

Scarlet pushed off the ice, moving into a breathtaking, intricate step sequence. She executed a series of lightning-fast twizzles, deep outside edge rockers, and a dramatic back-outside counter step, her upper body swaying with an effortless, aristocratic elegance.

Watching Scarlet skate was still, without a doubt, my absolute favorite thing in the world. It was a masterclass in pure artistry, a stark reminder of why I had fallen in love with the sport in the first place.

"Your turn," Scarlet called out, gliding back toward the center line. "Show me the twizzle-to-rocker transition. Keep your core tight, Lorali!"

I took a deep breath, stroking hard across the ice to gain momentum. I threw myself into the first twizzle, spinning fast, but as I attempted to check my rotation into the deep outside edge rocker, my ankle wobbled slightly. The blade caught a tiny ridge in the ice, sending me stumbling off-balance. I caught myself before falling, my hands sweeping out to stabilize my posture, but the fluid motion was completely shattered.

"Again!" Scarlet barked from the boards. "You’re leaning too far back on your heel! Control the edge!"

I hissed a breath through my teeth, circling back. I tried it again, this time digging the blade deeper into the ice, keeping my shoulders square. The sequence flowed much better, the twizzle snapping sharply into the rocker with clean, violent precision.

"Better!" Scarlet called out, clapping her gloved hands together. "Much better! Keep practicing that sequence for thirty minutes, then we should be done for the day!"

An hour later, I stepped out of the rink’s side exit, freshly showered, my hair damp and tied into a neat knot. Oracle was already standing by the passenger door of his grey luxury sedan, holding my heavy equipment bag over one broad shoulder like a dutiful servant.

He opened the door for me the second I approached, bowing his head. "Drive me to the High Street Mall," I commanded, sliding into the heated leather seat. "And hurry up."

"Yes," Oracle murmured, closing my door with absolute care before scrambling around to the driver’s side.

As the car purred out of the parking lot and merged into the bustling city traffic, I pulled my phone out of my handbag, finally tapping open the group chat with Vanya and Susie that I had stupidly ignored for the last forty-eight hours. My eyes widened as I scrolled through roughly three hundred unread messages, full of dress emojis, ring icons, and panicked voice notes.

Oh, no, I thought, a sudden wave of sheer regret washing over me. No, no, no.

Apparently, while I was busy dealing with the Spade pack’s chaos, Vanya and Arabella had somehow managed to finalize their wedding party details. And because I hadn’t replied to a single text to object, they had automatically assigned me as a chief bridesmaid for both of their upcoming weddings.

I’m a bridesmaid, I groaned inwardly, rubbing my temples. I’m literally going to have to wear hideous matching pastel dresses and pretend to care about flower arrangements at two separate weddings.

"Is something wrong?" Oracle asked softly from the driver’s seat, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.

"Mind your own business and keep your eyes on the road," I snapped coldly.

"Yes, I’m sorry," he whispered instantly, tightening his grip on the wheel. The High Street Mall was the pinnacle of high-end luxury, housing six floors of international designer boutiques, private champagne lounges, and gold-leaf architecture.

Oracle followed two paces behind me as I walked through the grand entrance, carrying my handbag, we stopped outside Maison de L’Amour, the most exclusive, outrageously expensive bridal and evening wear boutique in the entire territory. The entire glass front of the store was covered by velvet curtains, with a plush gold sign hanging on the handles: RESERVED FOR PRIVATE APPOINTMENT.

The front doors swung open the second I approached, and Vanya and Susie practically lunged out, grabbing both of my arms and dragging me inside.

"You’re late!" Vanya squealed, her bright blue eyes sparkling with manic energy. She looked radiant, dressed in a sharp designer coat, her brown hair styled in loose waves.

"I had training," I said, trying to pull my arms free, but Susie held on tighter.

"We booked out the entire boutique for three hours!" Susie giggled, adjusting her oversized sunglasses. "No outside shoppers allowed! Just us, champagne, and endless dresses!"

As they pulled me deeper into the opulent, crystal-chandelier-lit salon, I turned my head back to look at the entrance. Standing just inside the doorway, looking massive, intimidating, and completely out of place among the rack of white lace dresses, was a man I had never seen before.

He was an absolute giant, standing well over six-foot-niner, with broad, muscular shoulders, dark olive skin, razor-sharp cheekbones, and piercing amber eyes that radiated a heavy, dominant Alpha presence. He wore a crisp black suit with an earpiece, his arms folded loosely over his chest as his dark gaze swept the boutique.

"Who is that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at Vanya.

"Oh! That’s Malakor," Vanya said casually, waving a manicured hand in the air. "He’s my new head of personal security. My fiancés insisted on hiring him after the whole estate incident. He’s hot as hell, right? But completely stoic. I think I’ve seen him smile once since I met him."

Malakor offered a brief, respectful nod in our direction, his face an unreadable mask of cold, professional stoicism.

Then, Malakor’s amber eyes flicked past me, locking onto Oracle, who was standing near the doorframe. The atmosphere in the foyer instantly turned razor-sharp.

Two Alphas in an enclosed, private space was a recipe for instant territorial dominance. Malakor’s shoulders tightened, his Alpha aura flaring in a subtle, dangerous warning pulse. Oracle didn’t challenge him, he immediately lowered his gaze to the floor, stepping back to show complete non-aggression, but his massive frame still posed an undeniable threat.

Vanya looked between the two giant Alphas, let out a dramatic sigh, and crossed her arms.

"Alright, boys, out!" Vanya commanded, pointing a finger toward the lavish private waiting lounge near the front entrance. "Malakor, O.....Oracle, you two stay right there in the waiting room. This is a strictly female-only fitting session. No Alpha male eyes are allowed to see any of our bridesmaid dresses until the actual wedding day! Do you understand?"

"Understood, Miss Vanya," Malakor said in a deep, gravelly voice, stepping back into the waiting room without argument.

Oracle looked at me and I nodded then he bowed his head in quiet submission. "Yes, mistress."

Vanya and Susie immediately grabbed my arms again, cackling with delight as they dragged me into the private fitting suite, slamming the heavy curtains shut behind us, leaving the two Alphas sitting awkwardly on silk sofas surrounded by racks of white lace.