Page 64 of Nightmare Island

“What? I’ll fix it, whatever it is…” His thumb brushes my cheek, so tender it makes my heart crack.

“I hope you can.” My voice breaks. “Sten can control spirits. Did you know that? And he put one inside me to control my power. He put... he put…”

Say my name, bitch. Say it.

“He put Jarl inside me.” The words taste like ash. “My husband. My dead fucking husband is inside me.”

Ghost’s face morphs into pure rage. Lightning flashes, illuminating the sharp planes of his features, the murderous gleam in his eyes. “That fucking—” He cuts himself off, hands gentle on my shoulders even as his voice drops to a deadly growl. “Is it hurting you?”

Tell him how much you like pain. Tell him how you used to thank me for it.

“Can you remove it?” I grip Ghost’s shirt, desperate. The wet fabric bunches in my fingers, and I feel his heart pounding under my hands. “You said you can see spirits. Take it out of me, please take it out?—”

I’m going to enjoy this. Breaking you all over again. Making you destroy everything you love. Just like before.

Ghost’s face falls. “I can’t. I see them, they come to me, but I can’t manipulate them.”

My heart sinks. “So who the hell can on the island?” I scratch at my arm, trying to erase the phantom sensation of Jarl’s touch—the memory of fingernails leaving tracks on my skin. “Fuck.”

“Only Sten that I know of,” Ghost answers slowly. His arms tighten around me, protective, grounding. “I have an idea… somewhere that might help.”

He can’t help you. No one can. You’re mine, Omega. Forever mine.

I lean into Ghost, breathing in his masculine scent, his wolf, the forest, and that sweet cocoa that’s all him. I let myself get lost in it, trying to smother Jarl.

“Please, let’s do it. Anything’s better than having him as a permanent brain roommate.”

We’ll see how long you can pretend to be strong before I break you again.

Pressing closer to Ghost, I let his warmth fight back the cold, dead thing inside me. I’ve survived Jarl once. I’ll survive him again. Even if I have to drag his ghost ass back to hell myself.

Hell’s too good for you,Jarl hisses.But don’t worry. I’ll make Earth so much worse.

The rain continues to fall as we start moving, Ghost’s arm strong around my waist, supporting me. Each step takes us farther from Sten, but Jarl’s laughter follows, echoing through my mind.

The trek uphill is endless, each step a reminder that my body wasn’t made for this shit. Rain pelts us sideways, turning the ground into a muddy obstacle course from hell. My thighs burn, my lungs aching, but Ghost’s hand is firm in mine, warm despite the cold, anchoring me to something real while my dead husband whispers his poison.

“So, anyway, you can switch off the storm,” Ghost half jokes with me, running a hand down his face to wipe away the rain.

“I wish I knew how. I’ve tried so often, but nothing responds, only my emotions, and in situations like this, I’m struggling to calm down.”

The forest feels alive in the worst way possible. Ancient pines loom overhead, their branches creaking and swaying.

You should be happy we’re back together. We just need to get rid of this schmuck, then it’s just us again, Omega.

“In your fucking dreams,” I whisper.

“Are you doing all right?” Ghost asks.

“Peachy. Just sharing headspace with Satan’s favorite asshole.”

Jarl laughs.

I glance back toward Sten’s territory, down below, barely visible through the curtain of rain and mist. There’s no sign of the tornado I summoned, leaving just angry storm clouds.

But something about Ghost’s presence seems to calm me and the weather—or maybe it’s just me, feeling safer, despite everything. He walks fast, those long legs eating up the distance while I half jog to keep up. He holds my hand and is dragging me along with him, helping me.

“The weather’s settling,” I say, partly to drown out Jarl. “Guess I’m not as out of control.”

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