Page 68 of Nightmare Island

Memories flash—drowning, dying, the cold taking me under, the feeling of life slipping away as water filled my lungs. I push them back, but my hands are shaking.

“Take my hand,” I say.

“Ghost, get out of there!” The fear in her voice nearly breaks me, but I stretch my arm toward her, trying to project my confidence.

“This can work. You use me as a conduit.” The words tumble out fast. Every second in this water brings back memories of my death, of the darkness and cold. “Maybe I’ll be stronger with the spirits, so Jarl can come into me and the pool.”

“Are you sure about this?” She edges closer, shaking, and fuck if the trust in her eyes doesn’t make me want to howl with both pride and fear. “Because you look about as sure as I feel, which is somewhere between ‘fuck no’ and ‘hell no.’ And I’ve got to say, your track record with spirit water isn’t exactly stellar.”

“Yes. Now, hurry, please, as I fucking hate this water.” Every second I stand here is another second fighting the urge to run, to get away from the cold that once claimed my life.

The moment her hand touches mine, it’s like getting hit by lightning. Energy races up my arm, the spirits at my legs going absolutely ballistic, tearing at my flesh with ethereal claws. ThenI feel him—her dead husband’s spirit pouring into me like acid, filling every corner of my consciousness with his hatred. It’s like having ice water injected directly into my veins.

Get away from my wife, you mongrel,his voice echoes in my skull.She’s mine. She’ll always be mine. You’re nothing but an animal playing at being human.

The disgust rises in my throat. Having another consciousness inside me is like being infected. It’s worse than dying was—at least then, I only had to deal with my own pain.

But who gives a fuck when my idea worked—Hel’s clear of the fucker, though the pain on her face when I let go of her hand nearly brings me to my knees.

I turn toward the deeper water, ready to drag this bastard down with me, to end this once and for all, when a growl freezes me in place. The sound reverberates off the rock walls, and my heart sinks.

On the ledge across the pond, Sten and his wolves emerge from the shadows, their eyes reflecting the dim light like burning coals.

“Not fucking now!” The words escape through gritted teeth as they start moving into space. Hunters who’ve done this a thousand times before. I know their type—I am one of them. They’re not here to talk.

Hel’s scanning for escape routes, and fuck, I can’t leave her alone out here. Not for a second. Not with them. Protecting my fated mate takes priority over everything.

You can’t have my whore. I’ll watch them tear you apart, then I’ll take her back. She belongs to me. She’s always belonged to me.

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. Then I bark at Hel, “Run! Around the back of the rock face.”

She’s already backing away from Sten’s approaching pack but hesitates. Her huge eyes meet mine, and I see the war there—the need to run is fighting with the need to stay, to help. That’s my girl—brave to the point of stupidity sometimes.

“Are you sure? Because this looks like one of those times where running away from the guy with the spirit possession might be a bad call. Just saying.”

“Go, now! I have this,” I tell her, marching out of the water, pulling against the damn spirits clinging to my legs, but they don’t have a strong enough hold of me yet. “I’ll deal with you later, prick,” I murmur to Jarl.

She runs, and I turn to face Sten as he stalks forward. The rain never ends, and the sky is dark. The odds are shit—I’m outnumbered, possessed, and still half frozen from the spirit water. But I don’t have a choice. Hel’s life depends on me winning this fight.

And I’ve never been good at losing… especially not when it comes to her.

You think you know her? I MADE her. Every scar, every fear, every nightmare—those are my marks on her soul.

The spirit claws at my consciousness, trying to force memories into my mind—memories of Hel crying, bleeding, broken—but I shove them down. Not now. Not fucking now.

Sten’s massive frame blocks my path, his shoulders hunched forward. The rain streams down his face, but it can’t wash away the hatred etched into every line.

Let me show you what she looks like when she begs, her husband whispers.The images he forces into my mind make me want to tear my own head off.She always begs so prettily.

“Focus,” I growl to myself, planting my feet wider.

Sten’s lips curl into something violent.

Good. I’m fucking ready to end this shitshow.

“Funny how we ended up here.” His voice rolls across the space between us like thunder. “Where it all started… and where, today, it’s all going to end.”

His wolves—six of them, all battle-scarred and hungry-looking—start to spread out.

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