Page 57 of Nightmare Island

They’re everywhere. Some lounging in patches of sunlight, others pacing between the stumps with predatory grace in my direction. One massive gray beast lifts its head and stares right at me with amber eyes that are far too intelligent to be just an animal.

“This is just perfect,” I mumble under my breath, testing the ropes around my wrists and tugging against them. They’re tight enough to burn.

What in the world had Axel had me breathing, as my brain still feels foggy?

So, where the fuck am I?

In the distance, I spot makeshift homes. Some are just tattered tents held together by rope, while others are actual structures built into the trees themselves. Platforms and rickety bridges connect some of the higher dwellings, where men lean against railings and stare down at me like I’m the main attraction at a particularly pathetic circus.

A black wolf, lean and scarred, slinks closer to me. Its lips pull back to reveal yellowed fangs, and a growl rumbles from its chest that makes every hair on my body stand on end.

Dread crawls up my legs, seeing there are lots of them, and I’m alone and tied up. My heart thunders against my ribs, and I’m trying my best not to freak out.

The wolf suddenly lunges, snapping at my leg. Pure instinct takes over, and I kick out, catching it right in the nose. It yelps and jumps back, shaking its head.

“Back off!” I shout, but my voice shakes too much. A few of the men in the trees laugh.

An explosion of snarls and the sound of flesh hitting flesh draw my attention to the right. Two wolves are locked in a fierce battle, rolling across the dirt in a fury of teeth and claws. Blood sprays as one catches the other’s shoulder, and the injured wolf’s howl of pain sends chills down my spine. Other wolves gather around to watch, some wagging their tails as if this is their favorite entertainment.

“Fuck!” I whisper, trying to look anywhere else to find out how to escape and what the hell they want with me. I notice a man walking in my direction, and my blood turns to ice in my veins.

I recognize him instantly.

It’s the same fucking asshole who chased me when I first arrived on the island.

He’s wearing nothing but black pants that hang low on his hips, showing off a torso covered in scars. His dark blond hair is wild.

His gray eyes lock on to mine as he approaches, and that’s when I clearly notice the mark on his chest. His skin is charred, looking more like leather in the center of his chest—right where the lightning had struck him.

I break out in goose bumps and bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from making a sound. I know where I am now. Ghost warned me about the other half of Nightmare Island, about these wolves. The enemy pack.

He pauses right in front of me, close enough that I can smell perspiration on him.

“Welcome home.” His crooked grin has my skin crawling.

I try to turn my head away, but his hand shoots out, gripping my chin. His fingers are too warm against my skin.

“Last time we met, you slipped away.” His other hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. “But you’re special, aren’t you? And there’s a rule on this island that that fuckwit Ghost seems to always forget.” He leans in closer, his putrid breath making me gag. “Anything new belongs to whoever found them first. And that makes you mine, doesn’t it, Omega?” He inhales deeply against my neck, and my stomach turns.

“Fuck you,” I spit out.

“Oh, I like fighters.” A laugh rumbles through his chest. “They’re more fun to break.”

Movement catches my eye, and I spy Axel striding toward us, looking like he owns the place. He doesn’t even glance my way, the traitorous bastard. I grind my teeth but keep my mouth shut for now.

My mind races back to Eve’s words, and suddenly, her actions make a horrible kind of sense. If she was using Ghost for protection, what kind of monster is she hiding from?

I stare at Axel.

“Sten,” he states, and finally, I have a name to go with the nightmare in front of me. “Hel’s yours. You got your side of the deal. Now you agree to mine.”

Sten releases me and turns to face Axel. They take a few steps away from me as Sten cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders. Everything about him—from the way he moves, the calculated casualness, the barely contained violence—reminds me so much of my husband that I want to scream.

He taps his fingers against his thigh in a rhythm that seems random but isn’t. I know that tic, that false tell of nervousness hiding his real intention.

“Of course,” he says, voice smooth. “A deal’s a deal.”

In a split second, Sten’s holding a blade, and his arm swings, burying it into Axel’s throat. Blood sprays, and Axel’s eyes go wide with shock.

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