Page 284 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“Oliver.” Frankie tightens the sash on her robe, her green eyes ablaze with life. “I don’t know how or why you’re here—”

“I’m The Ghost.”

“Oh.” She makes a face like her head hurts. “I’m going to need to process that later. For now, will you go outside and watch for Rhett, keep him away from those planes, and maybe grab their clothes?” She motions at us.

“Of course.” He inclines his head and turns away.

“Oliver?” She waits for him to glance back and says, “Thank you. For everything.”

Another dip of his head, and he strides out of the cabin.

On the island, when he threw the fillet knife at me, his aim was deliberate, meant to grab my attention without harming me. With that single display of lethal precision, he proved he was The Ghost and solidified my trust in him.

He had about five seconds to promise me he would take down Frankie’s stalker before that photo arrived on our devices.

By the time I clicked the link, The Ghost was gone, melted into the background. Rhett never saw him through our camera phones.

I didn’t see him again until we boarded Rhett’s plane in Sitka and destroyed our phones. He emerged on the tarmac, floated out of fucking nowhere, and slipped onto our plane wearing a goddamn parachute, rifle, and ammo vest.

He hid in the cargo hold and didn’t speak to us on the way here. None of us spoke. We didn’t know if Rhett had eyes and ears in the cabin. If he did, he would’ve seen The Ghost jump from the plane a few miles away.

It was a risk that terrified me until we walked in and saw Frankie alive.

I flex my fingers, testing the strength returning to them. It’s agonizingly slow, but every second brings me closer to movement, closer to action. I breathe through the sensation, gritting my teeth as pins and needles stab at my limbs.

Wolf is the first to break free.

Shaking off the effects of the sedative, he finally regains enough energy to slip out of the rope and toss aside the IV fluid bag.

I can’t believe he had the strength to fling that knife. And with such accuracy.

As he rises to his full towering height, my heart thumps with disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

My son.

Alive.

He’s really here, flesh and blood, and he’s fucking perfect.

Circling the table, he approaches Frankie with slow, cautious steps.

Something flashes in her eyes as she watches him, something dark and tumultuous I don’t fully understand until she starts moving toward him.

Her face contorts with anger, grief, a violence that stuns me, even though I know the depth of what she’s been through.

She charges at Wolf, her glare murderous.

Is she going to hurt him?

“Tinker Bell…” He backpedals, hands up, trying to calm her. “Hold up.”

She doesn’t stop. She barrels toward him, fury and sorrow propelling her forward.

He stumbles around the row of corpses and bumps into my chair, his body close enough that I feel his heat. But it’s Frankie who holds my attention.

She’s a storm unleashed, crashing into him, her fists pounding against his chest.

“We grieved you for ten months!” Her voice breaks as she screams, “You left us! You tried to die!”

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