Page 16 of Nightmare Island

“It stays between us,” I bark as they head out the door. “Boys,” I call out, stopping them at the door. “Tell the pack to get ready. Tomorrow, we’re not just hunting deer.”

Axel’s gaze lights up with understanding. “Sten’s men?”

I nod, feeling my wolf stir with anticipation. “If they want to trespass on our land, they’d better be prepared to become prey. Tomorrow, we will remind them why they call this Nightmare Island.”

As Axel and Knut break into excited chatter and leave, I turn to look out the window. The forest looms in the distance, promising blood and violence tomorrow, but my mind’s still upstairs, fixed on the blonde wildcat who jokes about falling out of the fucking sky.

She’s the key. I can feel it in my bones. That lightning, her scent, the way she carries herself—she’s not like any Omega I’ve ever met. And if she can control the weather… Well, that changes everything.

I grip the windowsill, my knuckles turning white. For years, we’ve been scratching in the dirt, fighting over scraps. But her? She could be our ticket out of this hellhole.

I feel feral on the inside and hungry to discover her secrets. Oh, yes, little storm-bringer, you and I are going to have a long chat. By the time we’re done, you’ll give me everything I want.

After all, there’s more than one way to break an Omega. I’m going to have fun trying them all.

Chapter

Four

HEL

Ijolt awake, my heart pounding like crazy in my chest. For a terrifying moment, I swear I see Jarl standing by the bed, his hulking frame silhouetted against the dim light. He’s glaring at me with that familiar mix of contempt and anger, his eyes cold. I flinch back instinctively.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

I hate how quickly those words pour from my mouth.

But he’s gone, nothing more than a ghost conjured by my sleep-addled brain. I rub my eyes furiously, willing the remnants of the nightmare away. My hands are shaking, and I can feel a chilling sweat on my skin.

Just breathe, Hel.

As my heartbeat slowly returns to normal, I take in my surroundings. Right. Skull-face’s room. I must have dozed off after he left.Smart move, Hel. Fall asleep in the lair of the beast. Real survival instincts you’ve got there.

But honestly, can you blame me? This bed is ridiculously comfortable, a far cry from the hard, lumpy mattress Jarl forced me to sleep on. And the sheets… gods, the sheets. They smell incredible. Like a forest after a thunderstorm, with hints ofcocoa and something uniquely… Alpha. It’s intoxicating, and I hate how much I love it. I’m practically rolling around in his scent like a pig in mud.

Pathetic, Hel. Real pathetic.But after everything I’ve been through, don’t I deserve a little indulgence? Even if it’s just burying my face in some admittedly delicious-smelling sheets?

I glance at the window, trying to gauge the time. The light filtering through the curtains is dimming, casting long shadows across the room. Early morning, maybe?

I yawn, feeling as though I’ve slept for a week. When was the last time I was allowed to just… rest? Without fear of Jarl barging in, without the constant tension of waiting for the next blow to fall?

Right. Enough lazing about. Time to get my bearings.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I grimace at my clothes. They’re dry now but stiff and uncomfortable, clinging to my skin in all the wrong places. A quick scan of the room reveals another door, probably leading to a bathroom.

When I push the door open, the place surprises me. It’s like a rougher version of back home in Denmark. Everything’s a bit older, more worn, but still… civilized. The dark wood paneling gives the room a cozy feel, despite the faint musty scent that lingers in the air. Since when do feral Alphas have interior decorating skills? I snort at the mental image of Skull-face fussing over throw pillows and color schemes.

The bathroom is all dark wood and faded tiles, with a large window covered by blinds. Faint sunlight streams in at the edges, catching dust motes in its beams. A small wooden rack holds towels and on top… clothes? I unfold them curiously. A navy-colored T-shirt and patched jeans, about my size. The fabric is soft and well-worn but clean. There is also a pair of sneakers.

“Looks like Skull-face has a heart after all.” I move my fingers over the clothes. “Or at least a basic understanding of hospitality.”

I begin to unbraid my messy hair, then I head into the shower.

If you can call it that. It’s a hose-like contraption hanging from the wall. I eye it skeptically, memories of ice-cold baths at Jarl’s command flashing through my mind. However, beggars can’t be choosers, and I feel grimy from yesterday’s ordeal. I strip down, shivering in the cool air, and turn on the tap.

“Shi—” I leap back as ice-cold water sprays out, a startled laugh escaping me. Teeth chattering, I glare at the shower. “One temperature, huh? Sadists, the lot of you.”

Gritting my teeth, I dive in for the world’s fastest shower. The cold is shocking at first, but as I scrub away the dirt and sweat of yesterday, it becomes almost invigorating. I grab a brand-new soap that smells like coconut, with little flakes in it that gently exfoliate my skin. Probably homemade, like Mom used to do back home with animal fat and fire ashes. The familiar scent brings a lump to my throat. I push the homesickness away, focusing instead on getting clean.

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