She stood over the body, her breath slow, measured, watching as the last tremors of life twitched beneath her. The girl's head lolled to the side, cheek pressed against the slick tile floor. Her lips were parted slightly, eyes glazed unseeing. Blood dripped from her white gloved knuckles, hot and sticky. The veins in her arms pulsed, her breath came in slow, deep pulls, the raw anger still lingering in her fingertips.

It hadn't been planned.

Or maybe, in some way, it had.

The coyote demon, Valeria -another competitor, another polished, smiling, arrogant little thing- had always been a problem. She had watched her glide across the ice, light as air, confident, the judges eating out of her hand. Pathetic.

She had dragged the girl into the preparation room, her skates clutched tightly in her hands. The first blow had sent her sprawling against the lockers. The second had made her cry out, her voice high and shrill, desperate. The third had shattered something-her cheekbone, maybe. She had stopped counting after that.

She pressed the tip of the skate blade just beneath the girl's eye.

A pause.

Then, with the same grace she had perfected on the ice, she drove it in. The body jerked once, fingers twitching before going still. Blood gushed over the tile, pooling in dark, sluggish waves, seeping into the cracks. She exhaled, pulling the blade free, watching as it dripped.

She leaned back on her heels, staring at the scene before her, her own reflection warped in the polished tile.

Behind her, there was the soft click of a lighter.

"Oh hell," came a slow, amused voice, “this wasn't exactly subtle."

Vox stood in the doorway, lazily dragging a finger along the splattered lockers, glancing at the blood smeared across the metal like someone admiring art. His red eyes flicked from the body to her, slow, calculating.

"So what was it? Envy? Spite? Did she piss you off?"

He stepped inside, careful to avoid the blood pooling at his feet. He crouched beside her, elbows resting on his knees.