Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

HEL

O ne moment, I'm running for my life, and the next, I'm falling.

The world tilts and spins, my stomach lurching as gravity takes hold. I claw at the air, desperate for purchase, panic biting into my skin, but there's nothing to grab on to. Just empty space and the rushing air.

I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. Sharp pain spreads through my body, centered on my hip where I landed. I can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but lie here as agony pulses through me in waves.

Dust and broken planks of wood rain down around me, filling the air with a choking cloud. I cough, struggling to catch my breath as I blink away the grit in my eyes. As the dust settles, I find myself in near-total darkness. The air is thick, heavy, with the scent of mold and decay. It presses against me, almost a physical presence, reminding me of old blood and forgotten places.

"What a fucking night." I glance up, squinting in the dim moonlight. The hole I fell through is a good ten feet above me, a jagged mouth of broken wooden beams in the ceiling.

Groaning, I push myself to my feet, wincing at the throb in my hip. Each movement sends a fresh wave of pain through me, reminding me of how close I came to serious injury. Or worse. I take stock of my body—bruised all over, probably some cuts—but nothing seems broken.

A sound comes from deeper in the darkness, something guttural and… wrong.

I'm rooted to the spot.

"Ghost?" I call out, hating the tremor in my voice. "That had better not be you, or I swear I'll?—"

The sound comes again, louder this time. Closer. I'm not alone down here.

"Oh, fuck," I whisper, backing away slowly.

Something is shuffling toward me, a dark shape in the gloom.

Ragged breathing and a wet, gurgling sound turn my stomach. The smell hits me next—the stench of rotting flesh, overwhelming and nauseating. The odor is so strong I can almost taste it.

"Ghost!" I scream, panic overtaking me. My word echoes in the confined space, bouncing back at me mockingly. "Ghost, fuck, you'd better help me out of here."

I'm still staring into the dark where the sounds are coming from.

Suddenly, there's a form there, stepping forward out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

Where there should be eyes, there are only black holes, and its mouth—oh gods, its mouth—is a gaping maw, filled with teeth that seem to go on forever.

It staggers toward me, each step accompanied by the sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing. The air grows cold, so cold I can see my breath misting in front of me. The thing reaches out a hand—if you can call it that—toward me, fingers elongated.

Are you kidding me?

A fucking zombie! We have them back home, and we barricaded ourselves into our secured town—a way to deal with them—so what the hell is this thing doing down here when the island doesn't seem to have any… well, as far as I've seen?

A scream builds in my throat.

Suddenly, the thing lunges at me, and I see it clearly for the first time.

Flesh hanging in rotting strips and patches of its skull are visible, with yellowed bone peeking through decayed skin. Its mouth hangs open.

I scream, the sound tearing from my throat as pure terror takes over. My mind goes blank, all thought obliterated by the desperate need to survive.

The zombie slams into me, its weight surprisingly light but its strength terrifying. We crash to the ground, the air rushing out of my lungs. Its face is inches from mine, jaws snapping as it tries to bite. The stench of its breath makes me gag, a rotten-meat smell that clogs my nostrils and makes my eyes water.

I manage to get my arm up, pressing it against its throat, my whole body trembling. My other hand shoves at its bony shoulder, feeling flesh slough off under my fingers. The sensation makes me want to vomit, but I can't afford to give in to the nausea. Its skin is cold and slimy, like touching raw chicken left out too long.

"Get off me, you rotting piece of shit!" I yell, my tone high pitched and panicked.

The zombie's strength is relentless, though. Its teeth snap inches from my face, and I can feel its fetid breath on my skin. My arms tremble with the effort of holding it back. I know I can't keep this up for long. I manage to knee it in the stomach, but the thing doesn't budge or even seem to feel pain.

I can't die in this fucking basement. This can't end here.

In a flash, something yanks the zombie off me.

I gasp, frantically drawing backward and scrambling to my feet.

There's a blur of movement in front of me, and suddenly, Ghost is there, ripping the creature in half with his bare hands, as if it's made of paper.

I'm about to say something when movement behind him catches my attention.

Apparitions, faint but undeniably there, hover in the darkness of the basement. Translucent figures flicker in and out of existence, their faces twisted. And for a moment, Ghost looks like one of them—pale, almost transparent in the moonlight, more spirit than flesh.

A gasp falls from my lips as I back away, trembling. Fear, real fear, floods through me.

What is he?

Ghost tosses the twitching halves aside, dust and bones everywhere, but impossibly, horrifyingly, the thing is still moving. Its upper half drags itself toward me.

"Oh, shit!" I gasp.

With a growl that sounds more animal than human, Ghost pulls a blade from his boot and rams it into the zombie's skull. The crack of bone is sickeningly loud. Finally, it goes still.

There's silence, broken only by my ragged breathing and the hammering of my heart. Then Ghost turns to me, his mask gleaming in the dim light. Even with his face hidden, I sense the intensity of his gaze on me.

"Did it bite you?" he demands. "I had no idea there were any fucking zombies on this island. Are you hurt?"

I shake my head, unable to form words. My whole body is shaking, adrenaline coursing through me. We live in a broken world where the virus that eliminated civilization resulted in many of the dead rising into zombies. Because living with dominant wolf Alphas isn't challenging enough.

Ghost strides toward me, and I flinch involuntarily, my body reacting before my mind can process that he's not a threat.

"Easy," he says, his voice softer than I've ever heard it. "You're safe. I've got you."

"I don't feel safe." I scan the darkness around us, ready to jump out of my skin.

He reaches for me, and suddenly, I'm clinging to him, my face pressed against his chest. I can feel the solid muscle beneath his shirt and smell his scent—earthy and masculine, with hints of cocoa and something wild. It grounds me, pulling me back from the edge of hysteria.

"I've got you," Ghost repeats, stroking my hair. The gentleness of the words is not what I expect from him. "But we need to get out of here."

Without warning, he lifts me fast toward the gaping hole in the ceiling, powerful hands gripping my hips like I weigh nothing. The strength in his arms, the power coiled in his body, comes through his touch. Suddenly, I'm at the hole in the ceiling of the basement and frantically scrambling up, pulling myself free into the open air.

He's out in seconds too, having leapt to grab the edges and hauled himself up. My eyes locks on those flexing, thick biceps, and I'm admiring him way too long. When he glances up and notices me staring, I quickly lift my gaze to the moon.

That's when I feel a difference in the air. Or maybe it's the moon, full and blood-red in the sky. Or the distant howls that echo through the night. Whatever it is, it's awakening something primal in me. Adrenaline courses through my veins, but it's more than that. It's a need, an instinct so powerful it threatens to overwhelm me.

My wolf, usually a quiet presence in the back of my mind, surges forward. She's stronger than I've ever felt her. I stumble, caught off guard by her sudden push to emerge.

My bones start to shift, my skin prickling as fur threatens to sprout. I fall to my knees, hands braced against the ground as convulsions rack my body. Clothes tear off me, falling away in shreds. In seconds, I'm standing on four white paws.

Ghost takes a step closer, his hand outstretched. "It's okay," he reassures. "You don't need to be afraid. I'll keep you safe."

A growl rips from my throat, surprising even me. My lips pull back, baring teeth that are already sharpening into fangs.

Ghost freezes, his body tense.

The change is faster than I've ever experienced before.

"Hel," Ghost says, his Alpha command in his voice. "Don't run. Listen to me. Do not run. Wait for me to take you back."

My wolf is already backing away from him, not listening. All she knows is the need to escape, to run, to find safety. Before I can stop myself, before I can even think, I'm darting into the woods.

Ghost curses behind me, but I don't glance back. I just run, letting the wolf take control, surrendering to the primal instincts that now guide me.

The forest swallows me up, branches whipping past as I plunge into the woods. Part of me knows this is dangerous, knows I should turn back, but the wolf is in charge now, and she has only one thought—run.

Then there's the sound of tearing fabric behind me. He's shifted too. I don't look back. I just keep running.

The forest is a blur around me. Branches slap at my face, leaving stinging scratches. Roots threaten to trip me at every step, but I'm faster in this form, more agile. I leap over fallen logs and duck under low-hanging branches. The cool night air rushes through my fur, carrying a thousand earthy scents as small animals scurry out of my path.

Twigs snap behind me, and I know he's gaining ground with every stride. His growls send shivers down my spine, a mixture of fear and something else I don't want to examine too closely. Part of me, the Omega part, wants to submit, to bare my throat and let this powerful Alpha claim me, but I push that feeling down. I never felt this way before, not even with my husband.

My paw catches on something sharp, and I trip as it feels like someone drove a blade into my back leg.

I crumple instantly, collapsing and whimpering from the agonizing pain lancing, stabbing and immediate. I yelp, the sound pitiful, even to my own ears.

In an instant, Ghost is there. He shifts back to human form, naked, kneeling beside me. His hands are gentle as he examines my injured leg. He makes a sighing sound, the kind that tells me the injury is bad.

"Stubborn little flame," he mutters, but there's no real heat in his words. "I told you not to run."

The pain triggers my own shift back, and I lie there, naked and trembling, crying from the worst pain in the world traveling up my leg. I can't even speak, can barely move. Ghost has me in his arms in seconds, cradling me. And I'm holding onto those huge muscles, but my eyes are blurring, every movement sending me into another round of whimpers.

"I've got you," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

As he carries me through the forest, I find myself softening against him. There's something about his strength, his presence, that makes me feel… not safe, exactly, but less afraid. The steady heat of his body covers me, and the smell of his scent comforts me.

We break through the tree line, and I gasp. The sky above is a riot of stars, more than I've ever seen before. And there, hanging low and ominous, is the blood moon, casting its eerie red glow over everything.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ghost says, following my gaze. "Terrible, but beautiful. Like so much on this island."

I look at him, really look at him, for the first time in the moonlight—with his mask and his strength and the gentleness with which he holds me.

And it makes me realize that I know nothing about this Alpha.

When he moves up a slope, the pain shoots again, and I'm writhing with agony.

"Hang on, you're losing a lot of blood," he tells me.

I hold on just a little tighter, as though he's everything I've ever needed.