Inheritance Redefined

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The arena lights dimmed slightly as the opening notes pulsed through the speakers. The crowd hushed, leaning forward, anticipation crackling in the air.

"Return of the Mack
Get 'em, what it is? What it does? What it is? What it isn't?"

Elara began with a series of toe loops, landing each with clean precision, letting the beat guide her rhythm.

"Grown music, I shed my skin and put my bones into everything I record to it and yet I'm on"

The tempo picked up. Elara launched into a double Salchow, spinning twice midair, and flowed seamlessly into a series of figure-eight crossovers, elegant yet sharp, tracing intricate patterns across the rink.

"Can we go back? This is the moment.
Tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over. So we put our hands up
Like the ceiling can't hold us
Like the ceiling can't hold us"

The crowd's energy rose as Elara hit the chorus. She soared into a triple loop, twisting gracefully, landing with knees bent and arms lifted. She transitioned immediately into a camel spin, free leg extended high, rotation tight and controlled.

"Raise those hands, this is our party (Hey, hey, hey)"

Her skating became a flurry of movement – triple toe loop, double loop combinations, followed by a dramatic layback spin, back arched, arms flowing wide. Each movement mirrored the highs and accents of the song, the ice beneath Elara humming with momentum.

"I got my city right behind me, if I fall, they got me (Hey, hey, hey)
Learn from that failure, gain humility (Hey, hey, hey)"

The bridge approached, and Elara shifted into spiral sequences, gliding on one leg with free leg pointed behind her, body stretched and perfect. Twisting into a sit spin, she stayed low and tight before springing upright into intricate step sequences, carving deep edges, crossovers, and fast footwork across the rink.

"Can we go back? This is the moment. Tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over."

The song surged toward its finale. Elara executed a last flurry of jumps and spins, triple and double combinations, her body perfectly timed to the music's pulse. She finished in a dramatic final pose, one arm reaching high, chest lifted, gaze sweeping the arena, every muscle alive with anticipation.

"Like the ceiling can't hold us."

The final notes cut, and the arena erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Elara skated off the ice, breathless, exhilarated, proud. She had owned the moment – tonight, the crowd had witnessed her brilliance.

Coach Marchesi was already at the boards when Elara stepped off the ice, her sharp Italian features softened with warmth. Her eyes gleamed with pride.

"That," she said firmly, resting a hand on Elara’s shoulder, "is how you silence a room. Powerful edges, clean landings, a presence that no one can ignore. Brava, Elara. Brava."

Before Elara could even catch her breath, Coach Garcia walked over, hockey clipboard tucked under his arm and let out a low whistle. "If my boys could hold a crowd the way you just did, Elara, I'd retire early," he joked. Then he turned to Coach Marchesi "That was championship-level control. You should be proud."

Elara laughed nervously, the sound bubbling out with relief. "Thank you… both of you."

And then Elias was there, pushing past the crowd of teammates to get to his sister. Without a word, he pulled Elara into a tight hug, lifting her half off the ground before setting her down again.

"You were brilliant, Lara," he murmured, rough with emotion, like he'd been holding every word back until now.

The applause still thundered in her ears, but the hug grounded Elara more than anything.

Across the rink, the Rosewood hockey team had fallen into silence, their warm-up forgotten. One finally muttered under his breath–loud enough to carry over the boards,
"Guess the mafia school breeds more than just soldiers. They've got quite a star."

Another tilted his head, grudging respect in his voice. "She's better than half the professionals I've seen."

Anastasia, standing beside Coach Marchesi, smirked wickedly and whispered in Elara's ear. "Told you the entire arena would be obsessed."

Elara tried to hide her grin, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushed and glowing.

As the Viremont hockey team began filing past her toward the rink, sticks tapping against the boards in rhythm, she stepped back and smiled at them, still breathless."Good luck out there, guys," she called, voice warm and steady now.

Several of the players grinned back at her, tapping their sticks in answer. Elias squeezed her hand once more before skating onto the ice with the others.

And in the stands, her families' faces told a different story, pride, protectiveness, and a storm of fury toward anyone who dared put Elara's name in their mouths.