Page 1 of Nightmare Island

Prologue

GHOST

Better to fight and fall than live without hope.

Fuck that noise. My bastard father can take his sayings and shove them up his ass. I’m not here to fall. I’m here to fucking conquer.

I stand at the edge of the Gravewater pool, my eyes fixed on its inky black water. Spirits writhe just beneath the surface, flashes of white here and there, hungry for their next meal. Well, they can keep waiting. I’m not on the menu today.

The magic that once bled into the land from those who lived here before us still lingers like a sickness. It belongs to the few fae who were sent to this place initially before the wolf shifters arrived and slaughtered them all. And now the water at my feet is where the dead souls of this island end up.

With the balmy breeze blowing through my hair, I lift my gaze to the sky bleeding crimson, like Nightmare Island itself is anticipating the bloodshed to come. We’re on a lofty stone ledge, halfway up one of the two Shadow Piton mountains that dominate the coastline.

Before us rises a solid rock face—the side of the mountain—the lower half twisted into a massive skull. Water pours from itsempty eye sockets, raging into the pond with a fury that steals the silence.

I tear my gaze away from the scene to face Sten, the soon-to-be former Alpha of this godforsaken island. He’s standing at least twenty feet from my location by the Gravewater pool, smirking in my direction—cocky bastard. His dark blond hair sits in a mess around his round face. Those dead gray eyes of his are smiling at the corners, but there’s only the promise of violence behind them.

Good. I’m in the mood for fucking brutal violence.

“You dared to challenge me,” he growls gravelly, his tone filled with dark amusement. “Then show me what you’re made of.”

Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin higher. Around us, at least two dozen shifters in their wolf forms surround the water, their eyes gleaming with hunger. These fuckers are always hungry for something—food, women, or death. Today, they’ll get at least one of those things.

“It’ll be over soon enough,” I reply steadily. I’m not putting on a show for these animals. “You still have a choice, Sten. Yield the position of Alpha of your pack to me, and we don’t need to do this. Save yourself the humiliation.”

Sten barks out a vicious laugh. “You need a lesson, boy, to remember your place.”

I grimace, anger flaring hot in my chest. I’m barely two years younger than this prick, and he has the audacity to call meboy?

“I saved you when you first arrived,” Sten continues, his voice dripping with contempt. “Protected you like a brother. And this is the fucking reward you offer me?” His face twists into a mask of hatred. “I’m going to cover the mountain with your blood.” His eyes narrow, a cruel smile warping his lips. “We’re doing this officially, with our ritual to show everyone I’m a man of my wordwho makes anyone who challenges me pay the price with their life. Then, when I win, I will gut you from groin to throat.”

Something stings in my chest, a traitorous pang of… what? Guilt? Regret? I push it down ruthlessly. Yes, Sten had helped me when I first washed up on these shores less than six months ago, but the fucker has a demented notion of what protection means. He’d also broken my ribs, chained me like a dog to a tree, and thrown me scraps to drive fear into me.

He had no idea who he was dealing with then. He’s about to find out now.

“We doing this, or are you getting emotional?” I snap, tired of the bullshit. Sentiment gets you killed in this world. I saw it happen often enough back in Denmark, where I grew up with the Balor Wolf Pack, and again here on Nightmare Island.

Sten nods sternly, and we make our way around the pool to the black rocky wall in front of us, keeping a distance between us of around five feet.

I glance back at Aiquen—one man amid the wolves—the oldest on the island, fifty-two, if I remember correctly. He steps forward, his weathered face solemn as he calls out.

“Rules are simple. Challenge for Alpha has been claimed. The first one to make it to the top gets the first strike for the death match. Last man standing becomes the Alpha of Nightmare Island.”

The surrounding wolves howl in response, sounding impatient for the challenges to commence rather than the formalities.

Part of me wishes it was as easy as straight combat. I’d take Sten out in a heartbeat. But since arriving in this hellhole, I’ve discovered there are many feral rules in this place that make no fucking sense to me. I’ll abide by them. For now.

As I stare up at the treacherous climb before us, my mind wanders back to how I ended up here.

Exiled.

Dumped on this island to rot by those bastards back in Denmark. The Balor Wolves, my fucking father, always treated me like an outcast. They thought they were sentencing me to death by sending me to the Exiled Sector, but they underestimated me. They always have. I’ll make this island mine!

I can’t keep living under someone’s thumb. Not again. So, this is my chance—my only chance—to create a new path. Not just to survive but to thrive in this place of nightmares.

Aiquen’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“Are you two ready?”

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