Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

HEL

I jolt 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 of cocoa 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.

Fresh, freezing, and slightly impressed by their soap-making skills, I towel off vigorously, trying to bring some warmth back into my limbs. I pull on the new clothes, relishing the feeling of soft fabric against my skin, and step into the black sneakers. No mirror, but I feel like a new person.

Back in the main room, I peer out the window. The light's different now—dimmer, with a golden quality that speaks of late afternoon rather than morning. Wait a second. That's not morning light. That's evening. Did I sleep the whole damn day?

My stomach growls in response, loud enough that I half expect Skull-face to come bursting in, thinking it's some kind of monster. I press a hand to my belly, realizing I can't remember the last time I ate. Right. Food. That's the next order of business.

I mean, if they wanted me dead, I'd be long gone into the afterworld, so I think I'm safe to investigate where I am… for now.

The door's locked, of course, but that's never stopped me before. I retrieve the small pick I always keep in my pocket—a habit born from too many time-outs in locked rooms. The lock is old but well maintained. It takes a bit more effort than I'm used to, but finally, I hear that satisfying click.

I ease the door open, wincing at the creak of hinges. The hallway beyond is empty, lit by the warm glow of oil lamps. No guards. Either Skull-face is overconfident, or this is a trap. Knowing my luck, probably both.

The smell of freshly baked bread hits me as I creep down the hall, making my stomach growl even louder. The scent is mouthwatering, reminding me of Sunday mornings back home when Jarl would go hunting, and I was left alone… before everything went to hell. I follow my nose, padding quietly down the carpeted hallway. Old paintings line the walls, landscapes mostly faded and slightly crooked. It's all so… normal, like a run-down country manor, not the lair of dangerous Alpha wolves.

I round a corner and?—

"Oof!" I collide with something soft and decidedly human-shaped. Stumbling back, I find myself face-to-face with another woman. She's about my height, maybe a few years older, with huge violet eyes and a mass of brown curls that seem to have a life of their own. She's absolutely beautiful.

"Oh!" she exclaims, looking as startled as I feel. Her eyes widen as she takes me in, a smile spreading across her face. "You're out of the room. We were told you might be and that we're to give you anything you need."

"We?" I blink, thrown off guard. "Why?" The questions tumble out before I can stop them. "I mean, who are you? Where am I exactly?"

She giggles, and I notice how her curls bounce with the motion. It's annoyingly adorable.

"Oh, honey. You really are new here, aren't you? It's not just men on the island, silly!"

"It's not?" I blurt out, feeling like an idiot. Of course it's not. Get it together, Hel.

"I mean, clearly it's not. You think only men commit crimes?" She laughs again. "Especially when just going against an Alpha can have an Omega committed to Nightmare Island. At least, that's what my husband did to me." She shrugs as if being exiled is no big deal. "But that's in the past."

My mind is reeling. Other women. Other Omegas. This changes everything.

"So, how many Omegas are here?" I ask, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. Allies, maybe. Or at least, not everyone here wants to eat me. Probably.

"With you, it's now seventeen," she replies with a tight grin, as though there's more to that answer than she's willing to share. "I'm Eve, by the way. And you look like you could use a meal. Come on, I'll show you to the kitchen."

"Thought you'd never ask," I say, falling into step beside her. My stomach gives another loud growl, and she laughs. "I'm Hel. And maybe on the way, you can tell me more about Skull-face?"

Eve's eyebrows shoot up, her violet eyes sparkling with amusement. "Skull-face? Oh, you mean Ghost! Girl, you've got a lot to learn about this place."

I guess his name makes sense, though I have so many questions about him and that mask.

"So, we had just over one-hundred Alphas on count last month. Ghost," Eve says, her tone taking on a dreamy quality. "He's our leader. Dangerous as hell, but fair if you don't cross him. He's the reason we Omegas have any kind of decent life here."

"Decent life? On a prison island?"

Eve shrugs. "It's better than what we left behind. Trust me." There's darkness in her eyes that I recognize all too well. I decide not to push. We all have our demons.

We turn a corner, and the smell of baked food intensifies.

"So, what's Ghost's deal?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "Why the skull mask? Seems a bit… theatrical for a prison island."

Eve's laugh echoes down the hallway. "That's a long story. Let's just say it's part of what makes him… him. You'll understand when you get to know him better."

I snort. "Hard pass, I'm good. I'm more interested in getting off this island."

Eve stops, turning to face me with a serious expression. "Hel, listen to me. This place… it's not what you think. Things aren't exactly as they seem here. It's dangerous, and bad things happen all the time, even in our pack."

Her voice drops to a whisper, and I have to lean in to hear her.

"These shifters are feral. They lose control often. Never, ever let your guard down."

A shiver runs down my spine as Eve's words sink in. She's trembling slightly, her eyes darting around as if checking for eavesdroppers.

"But I thought you said—" I start, confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

She cuts me off with a sharp shake of her head.

"I know what I said earlier. We have to keep up appearances. You never know who's listening." Her fingers dig into my arm, her nails biting into my skin. "Ghost might seem fair, but he's still an Alpha. And Alphas here… they're not like the ones back home. They're worse."

All things I already knew, but to hear it from her makes it worse, turning my stomach.

"They've been here too long. Cut off from civilization, from any kind of restraint. Some of them… they're more beast than man now."

Before I can respond, I hear footsteps approaching. Eve's expression changes in an instant, a bright smile plastered on her face as she turns toward the sound.

"Let's move," she says, her voice cheerful but her eyes pleading.

Eve leads me down a winding staircase, the wood creaking beneath our feet. The farther we descend, the stronger the aromas of spices, freshly baked bread, and something earthy and wild. My stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud, and Eve shoots me an amused glance.

We round a corner, and I'm covered by a wave of warmth and light. The kitchen is nothing like I expected. It's all worn wood and gleaming copper, bathed in the golden glow of a massive fireplace. A cauldron hangs over the flames, something fragrant bubbling inside. To the side, there's an oven with a sturdy wooden door, and I watch, transfixed, as an older woman pulls out a loaf of bread so perfectly golden it looks like it belongs in a painting. The smell hits me like a physical force, and my mouth waters.

"This is…" I trail off, struggling to find the words. It's like stepping into a fairy-tale kitchen, not a prison-island galley. I wonder if I had it all wrong. Maybe it's just being out there with the men that's the issue. But then I remember Eve's warning. Beauty can hide danger, after all.

A large wooden table dominates the center of the room, covered in a basket overflowing with fruits I've never seen before, their skins a mix of colors. Loaves of bread, some still steaming, are piled high. There are pots of what looks like jam or preserves, their contents glowing like jewels in the firelight.

"This is not what I expected," I admit, taking it all in.

Eve grins. "Wait till you taste it. Mara's baking is legendary."

The older woman only smiles at us as Eve cuts two thick slices of bread.

"You bake incredibly," I say, but Mara nods at me.

"She doesn't talk," Eve explains. She leans in closer, her words barely above a whisper. "Her husband… he cut out her tongue before dumping her here. But her baking skills are exceptional."

The blood drains from my face for her suffering. "That's horrific," I whisper back, fighting the urge to reach out to Mara to offer some comfort. But what comfort could I possibly give?

Eve slathers the bread with what looks like butter, but when I take a bite, a strong taste of coconut fills my mouth. It's delicious, creamy and slightly sweet. I finish it faster than I'd like to admit, licking my fingers without thinking.

As I eat, I can't help but notice fresh scratch marks on Eve's arm, partially hidden by her sleeve, along with faint bruises on her neck. She catches me looking and tugs her sleeve down. All Alphas are the same at the end of the day, aren't they?

Eve places a bowl of stew in front of me. Steam rises from the thick, rich-looking broth, carrying with it a scent that makes my almost drool. Chunks of meat float alongside vegetables. I take a cautious bite, and the flavors explode on my tongue. It's savory, with a hint of something wild and gamy. It tastes like…

"Chicken?" I guess, though I know it can't be. Where would they get chickens on an island like this?

Eve laughs. "Crocodile, actually. Do you like it?"

I almost choke but manage to swallow. The meat is tender, falling apart in my mouth, but knowing what it is makes me hesitate before taking another bite.

"It's delicious."

After the meal, Eve stands. "Let me show you a great view of the island. I'm guessing you'll be here with us now."

I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. "Well, until I can find a way off this place."

"Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?" she says. She pulls up her sleeve, showing me a burned mark on her arm. "Not unless a miracle happens."

I instinctively pull down my own sleeve, not wanting her to know I'm here by accident and bear no mark. Right now, I want to blend in, then find my own way out without anyone hating me for having a chance they don't.

Eve guides me out of the kitchen, up steps to the third floor to a balcony, not far from my room. Even with the descending sun, the view steals my breath away. The island spreads out before us—vibrant, lush forest and flowing mountains cradled by the bluest sea. It's paradise, or it would be if it weren't a prison with wild Alphas.

"This is our side of the island," Eve explains. "Sten rules the other half."

"Sounds like a charming neighborhood," I murmur sarcastically.

"You just have to abide by a few simple rules, and you should survive," she says, emphasizing the last word in a way that sends chills down my spine.

"Well, that sounds ominous. What's next? Don't feed the Alphas after midnight?"

"Never go into the woods alone late at night. If you must go, don't travel alone. If you're about to come into heat, for gods' sakes, tell us and stay away from the men."

I swallow hard. "Anything else?" I ask.

Eve's gaze meets mine, deadly serious. "Never, ever challenge Ghost's authority. The last Omega who did… well, let's just say the crocodiles ate well that week."

A chill runs down my spine, and in a flash, I'm back with Jarl, feeling small and powerless and so, so afraid. But I'm not that girl anymore. I force a smirk, even as my heart races.

"Got it. Don't poke the bear. Or the wolf, in this case. Any other fun island activities I should know about? Volleyball with severed heads, maybe?"

Eve doesn't smile at my joke. Instead, she tugs at my arm, her grip just shy of painful.

"Come on," she says, her voice urgent. "I need to get back to my chores, and you're expected to attend the celebrations tonight. You can help them set up the tables down behind the mansion. I will join you as soon as I finish helping Mara."

She grins, and I join her down a hallway leading away from my room until we reach the end, where there's a dark descending staircase.

"At the bottom and down a long corridor, head out the door. Then you'll be outside. I'll be in the yard."

With a small shove in the back, she rushes back to the way we came from the kitchen. Strange girl.

I turn and take my first steps down when a faint murmur of voices reaches me from behind. Turning back around, I catch a glimpse of Eve pressed up against Ghost.

Her hands are all over his chest.

He tilts his head to the side, staring at her, that damn skull mask making it impossible to read his expression. Eve's saying something I can't hear, but when Ghost drags his hand down her hair, bunching it at the back of her head, a pang of… something… strikes my chest.

I feel like I'm witnessing a private moment, yet I can't look away. I have no feelings for this man. Sure, he saved me, but Eve has scars. Did he do that to her? He leans in, whispering in her ear, and as Eve's gasps, I quickly pull back.

A wave of… is that jealousy? No, it can't be. Who the hell cares what Ghost does or who he does it with?

As the voices die away, followed by footsteps coming my way, I slip into the shadows and rush down the stairs, not wanting Ghost to think I'm spying on him. My heart pounds in my ears as I dart down the dark staircase, Eve's urgent instructions echoing in my mind. Louder footsteps in the hallway above spur me on.

The stairs seem endless, spiraling down into darkness. My hand trails along the cold stone wall. I tell myself I'm just going to help outside, to get to know some people. It's not because I can't shake the image of Eve in Ghost's arms. It's not because I care. It's not.

At the bottom, a long, dimly lit corridor stretches before me to my right. Shadows dance on the walls, cast by flickering torches. It's like something out of a gothic novel, and I expect to see a monster lurking in the corners.

"None of those here," I mumble to myself. "Just bloodthirsty werewolves. Much better."

Hurrying down the corridor, my steps sound around me. Finally, I reach a massive door made of thick wood and iron. I grasp the handle, cool metal against my sweaty palm, and wrench it open with all my strength.

The last rays of sunlight of the day hit my face as I step outside. I'm blinded. Then my eyes adjust, and I'm faced with a wall of dense forest. The trees loom over me, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers.

The door slams shut behind me with a resounding boom, and I jump, my heart leaping into my throat.

"It's just a door. A very loud, very ominous door."

As I step back, something feels… off. The woodland presses up against what should be the back of the mansion. But what I'm seeing isn't the elegant, if run-down, building I was in moments ago. It's a wall of stone stretching up into the darkening sky, and on either side of me it curls around, forcing me to go one way only… into the woods.

My stomach drops, a cold weight settling in my gut. This isn't right. This isn't where I'm supposed to be. Did I take a wrong turn? Or did Eve mislead me?

That sickening feeling in my chest tells me I've just been played.

Panic rising, I rush back to the door. The metal handle is unyielding under my grip. Locked.

"No, no, no," I say, yanking at the handle with increasing desperation, remembering all of Eve's rules, and while she could have lied about those, too, I can't convince myself otherwise she did. "Don't do this to me. Open, damn you!"

The forest seems to press closer, the shadows deepening as the sun sinks lower. Then, from somewhere in the depths of the woods, a single howl rises. It's long, mournful, and terrifyingly close. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Another howl joins the first, then another. I'm pretty sure I know what or who is on the menu.