Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

GHOST

J ust a little longer. Even as Hel sinks to her knees in the Gravewater pool, the first convulsion rocks through her body. When she cries out my name, it takes everything I have not to lunge forward. Every instinct I possess—wolf, warrior, mate—screams at me to grab her, to pull her to safety. But I can't. Not if we want this to work.

The spirits are crawling up her legs now, tendrils wrapping around her thighs like pale smoke, dragging her deeper. She's panicking—I can smell it rolling off her in waves.

This has to work.

That fucker inside her needs to come out, and the spirits, they're trying to help. They have to be.

"Ghost," she calls me again.

But something's off. Her voice isn't quite hers. My blood turns to ice, every hair on my body standing on end. This is wrong. So fucking wrong.

"I feel so much better now," she continues, and something inside me shatters. That voice coming from her lips—it's like watching someone puppeteer her body, and the wrongness of it triggers something primal in me.

Pure panic hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest, and suddenly, I'm moving without conscious thought. My hand snaps out to grab the back of her neck while the other fists in her shirt. I yank her out of the water like she weighs nothing. The fear coursing through me makes my movements savage, desperate—I know I'm being too rough, but I can't stop myself. Not when every second she's in that water feels like another second I might lose her.

She stumbles as I drag her onto the bank, coughing up water that looks too dark, too thick, to be natural. But I can't give her a moment to recover. My fingers find her chin, probably leaving bruises as I force her face up to mine. Her skin is ice cold, and fuck if that doesn't send another spike of fear through me.

"Sweetheart, tell me he's gone!" The words come out more like a growl than actual speech.

"Ghost, it's me." The words that escape her are pure Hel—all sass stripped away by fear, leaving behind something raw and vulnerable that makes my chest ache. "But… but he took me over completely. I can't go in the water. It gives him strength over me."

My chest feels as though it's being ripped apart as I watch her struggle. She's trembling in my arms, soaked to the bone, and there's a war being waged behind her eyes. And I'm standing here fucking useless.

The rain beats down on us as I grasp her close, feeling her shiver against me. Memories I'd rather forget claw their way to the surface, triggered by her pain. Each tremor that runs through her body is like a knife in my gut.

But I know spirits. An idea forms—desperate, probably stupid, but when has that ever stopped me? In this new world, sometimes the worst plans are the only ones we've got.

I take her hand, skin cold against mine. "Come to the water."

She jerks back as if I've burned her, eyes wide with terror. "No! Are you fucking insane?"

There's an edge of hysteria in her response that cuts me to the bone.

"Because I've got to tell you," she begins. "Swimming with spirits once today was enough for my quota. Actually, it's enough for my lifetime. Maybe even in my next lifetime."

"Do you trust me, Hel?" The words come out rougher than intended as I take a step into the water. The cold bites at my ankles, then my knees, and the spirits are already reaching for me.

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. Then I 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.

I glance back, and my heart slams against my ribs.

Hel is scaling the rock face, her small form barely visible through the rain. She's found handholds in the black stone, pulling herself up inch by treacherous inch. My throat closes up as I watch her foot slip, then catch again. Every instinct screams at me to fly up there and grab her before she falls, but I understand why she's done it. More of Sten's wolves have emerged from the tree line behind us, cutting off any escape route on the ground. They've cornered us.

Look at her climb . Like a scared little rat.

Desperation and fury bleed through me. This ends now. All of it.

"Like old times," I growl at Sten, baring my teeth. "You and me, you piece of shit."

The wolf inside me howls for blood, and I don't hold back.

The transformation rips through me in seconds, clothes falling away. The world sharpens, sounds becoming crisp, smells intense. I don't wait for Sten to complete his own change—I launch myself at him, catching him mid-shift. We hit the ground hard, and my teeth find his throat. I clamp down hard, fangs sinking into flesh. Blood coats my mouth, and I go deeper.

He whines, thrashing beneath me, finally transforming into his wolf but making horrible gurgling sounds. I love the sound of his suffering.

Amateur, Jarl sneers in my head. You should have gone for the spine.

The momentary distraction costs me. Sten's back leg catches me in the gut, claws raking through flesh. Pain explodes across my abdomen, and I flinch—just enough for him to writhe free. Blood mars his neck as he scrambles away, but he's fully wolf now. Some of his wolves close in, growling and howling, drunk on the violence.

I risk another glance at Hel. My blood runs cold when I spot two men in human form climbing after her. She's too high now. If she falls…

Sten slams into me like a freight train, knocking me off my feet. We roll across the stone ground and in the rain, a chaos of teeth and claws. Years of hatred fuel every bite, every slash. This isn't just a fight—it's vengeance. For the way he tortured me, for every person he's killed on the island.

You fight like a bitch , Jarl taunts as Sten's teeth graze my shoulder. I'd have killed him by now. You're pathetic—no wonder she lets you fuck her. She always did have a thing for weak men.

My concentration splinters between the fight, Hel's precarious position, and the poison being spewed in my mind. I miss a dodge I should have seen coming, and Sten's teeth suddenly find purchase in my side, crunching down with bone-crushing force. I howl as he tears at the wound, pain shooting through me.

The husband's laughter echoes in my skull. You pussy. I could take him so easily. You'd be dead by now if I was fighting.

Something clicks in my mind as I snap at Sten's head, my teeth tearing at his ear. He snarls, releasing me, shaking his head. I scramble to get up.

Fine, you fucker, I mumble back at him. Show me. You and me … let's fight. Winner gets Hel.

Jarl goes quiet.

That's what I thought, I snarl internally.

How? Jarl's voice is suspicious but interested. Hook, line, and sinker.

You go into Sten's body and take over. Then, the real fight begins.

I'm going to fuck you up so good , he growls.

Sten comes at me once more, and with every ounce of strength left in my battered body, I rush at him, head low, slamming Sten in the chest. The force throws him off me, and I scramble to his side before he can recover. Then I lunge forward with all my strength and crash into his side as he gains his composure. He's stumbling over the water's edge and hits the shallow pond with a splash that sends spirits scattering.

Go, you fucker, I growl at Jarl. Show me what you're made of.

I leap into the water, driving a paw against Sten, batting to get up over the slippery rocks underneath. The spirit moves through me with speed, flowing backward through my veins. It's a violation, a wrongness that makes me want to claw my own skin off, but then… blessed relief as it leaves my body through my paw touching him. I retreat instantly, pulling back my wolf, flesh rippling as I return to human form.

Sten stumbles in the water, shaking his massive wolf head. Confusion clouds his eyes as the possession takes hold. He growls and shakes his head, stumbling about. I don't waste a heartbeat.

I wade in, ignoring the spirits swirling around my legs, and slam both hands into his side. He loses his footing, his massive body crashing into the dark water.

I leap back onto solid ground as the spirits surge forward like a tidal wave. They swarm him, dozens, then hundreds of forms drawn to the dead soul now trapped in living flesh. The sight turns my stomach. It's like watching sharks in a feeding frenzy.

Sten thrashes in the water, his wolf form melting away as panic overtakes him. His human face breaks the surface, mouth open in a scream that bubbles through the water. His eyes are wide with terror—he knows what's happening. The spirits aren't just coming for Jarl—they're claiming Sten, too, dragging them both down to whatever darkness waits below.

His hands claw at the water's surface, desperate for purchase, but the spirits pull harder. Dark water floods his mouth as he screams. Then, with a final, violent convulsion, he goes under. Bubbles rise to the surface, then nothing.

Satisfaction burns through me as I turn to face his pack. "You bow to me now," I roar, letting every ounce of Alpha power fill my voice. "Or you die!"

They drop to their knees as one, even those still in wolf form, lowering their bellies to the stone. The sight sends a surge of primitive pleasure through me, but it's short-lived as I whirl toward Hel.

She's frozen halfway up the rock face, the men who were pursuing her having stopped to watch their leader's death.

"Hel!" I call out, already rushing toward the wall.

She looks down, calling to me, sounding terrified. She's wedged herself into a precarious position where she could easily slip right into the pond. I don't waste time with words—I frantically climb, taking the diagonal path that follows the edge of the rock face. The stone is slick with rain, and one wrong move could send me plummeting into the spirit-filled water below.

The other men scramble down as I climb past them, their eyes cast downward in submission. Good. They've learned quickly.

When I reach Hel, she's trembling so hard I can hear her teeth chattering.

"Is he…" she mumbles, staring past me at the pond where Sten's body floats facedown, spirits still circling like vultures.

"They're both gone, sweetheart," I say, reaching for her. "I told you I'd protect you."

"My hero," she says, managing a weak smile despite her terror.

"Climb on my back," I instruct, turning carefully on my narrow perch. "Slowly."

She moves like she's made of glass, her arms wrapping around my neck, legs around my waist. I feel every shake, every hitched breath as she clings to me. The climb down is worse than going up—one slip and we'd both fall. I take it methodically, testing each hold before trusting it with our weight.

When we reach the bottom, I maneuver us toward the far edge where she can step onto dry land without touching the water. The moment her feet touch the ground, I turn and pull her into my arms. My lips find hers, tasting rain and tears and blood. She melts against me, her small form fitting perfectly against mine, as if she was made for me.

"You are mine forever now," I murmur against her hair. "Nothing will ever hurt you again."

She's smiling. Covered in scratches and cuts, tears in her eyes, she whispers, "I've had enough of danger. I want a boring life now."

I chuckle.

The sound of approaching voices makes me tense, but when I turn, it's Knut arriving with more of my men. He surveys the scene—the kneeling wolves, the floating body, the blood-stained ground—and grins.

"Well, you had to take all the glory for yourself, didn't you?" Knut lifts his hand, grasping my mask. "And I found this discarded. Figured you'd want it back."

I bark out a laugh, keeping Hel tucked against my side.

"We need to collect all the Alphas on the island. No rogues. Everyone falls under our line now, and we teach them our ways. Then I'll update you on everything."

Knut nods at the assembled wolves. "You got it, boss." Then his expression turns serious. "Just thought you should know… seems Axel betrayed us to Sten. I found his body."

"Good," I growl, even if my stomach turns for the years I trusted him and lost who I thought had been a friend. But I push those thoughts down. "He saved me the trouble of killing him myself."

Knut nods and begins barking orders at our new recruits.

I turn back to Hel. She looks up at me, those fierce blue eyes that first caught my attention now soft with something that makes my heart stutter.

"You know," she says, trailing a finger down my chest. "For a big bad wolf, you're actually kind of sweet. Don't worry, though. Your secret's safe with me."

I pull her closer, inhaling her delicious scent, bathing in her warmth and the simple fact that she's alive and safe in my arms. Everything I've done, everything I've become—it was all for this. For her.

"Better keep it that way." I wink, and she smiles so beautifully. I never imagined finding someone to give my heart to, but it's happening…

The rain starts to ease, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles. But here, at this moment, with Hel in my arms and our enemies defeated, I finally feel at peace for the first time.