Ripley
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The prickle of my hair standing at attention makes me pause, a chill racing down my spine. My wolf forges to the forefront of my consciousness. My mouth shuts, and I still. It becomes hard to swallow, as if a million cotton balls were being shoved down my throat. I can feel the watchful eyes of my best friend scanning my face. He hesitantly takes a step towards me, dark eyebrows furrowing.

"Ripple..." Gray whispers cautiously, feeling the cold atmosphere that has descended upon us.

Without saying a word, I slowly crane my neck around, searching the trees sitting nearby. I feel my breathing slow.

When I see him, my hand tightens around the handle of my knife and a pure hatred burns in my chest. Those hard, blue eyes stare solely at me, unblinking. Goosebumps seem to intensify on my skin as the killer observes my every move. Grayson sucks in a breath when he notices the dark man.

The Ghost perches like a bird on one of the branches of the trees surrounding us, squatting on it with his elbows resting on his knees. His strange blue eyes move to Grayson, looking at him with predatory interest. He cocks his head to the side like he did the first time I saw him, the only thing he's done so far that has not made me question if he's an emotionless robot. Pure anger and hatred cloud my gaze as I stare him down.

I swallow and then casually tell my best friend, "Found him."

Grayson freezes in shock, the scent of his fear thickening the air around us. My own heart beats wildly in my chest like a racehorse's hooves beating against the ground. Grayson is never afraid. Never.

The Ghost quietly leaps off the low branch of the tree, landing on the hard earth without a sound before straightening up into a standing position. My jaw drops. No one should be able to be that silent.

His nostrils flare while he keeps his eyes on me, looking as if he's going to take a step in my direction. My best friend steps in front of me protectively, his broad shoulders blocking my view from the killer and thus blocking the killer's view of me. Fear still radiates off him, but the power oozing from his pores covers it. His Beta instincts kicked in; his wolf wants to protect his Alpha.

I stare at the back of his light brown hair when a warning growl erupts from his chest. A distinct need to confront the killer takes over me, and I brush up against Gray's shoulder as I step to his side. Like the night before, I'm not necessarily afraid of the monster in front of me, and that scares me. I am afraid that he may slaughter my best friend. For some strange reason The Ghost has chosen to keep me alive, but I didn't think about what he would do to my best friend after we finally found him.

Face to face with the killer in the light of day allows me to have a better look at the beast in front of me. He truly is an attractive man, the most beautiful person I have ever seen with his sharp features and cat-like prowess. I hate myself for thinking so. His eyes show a keen light of intelligence, as if he could calculate our every move before we even think of it. I notice he's wearing the same exact outfit - minus the gloves - as the night before, an outfit that covers as much of his skin as possible. It's tight enough to be form fitting, but loose enough to make movement easy.

Once I get over my shock of somehow finding him, I remember my plan. I manage to quickly slip my hand to my knife, drawing it and impulsively throwing it at my target without a second thought. I put all my disgust and hatred into my throw. This time, I know the killer's skill, and I'm counting on using it to my advantage.

Grayson looks at me in alarm, one of his muscled arms darting in front of me as if to push me behind him again.

The Ghost doesn't break eye contact with me as his bare hand practically rips the knife from its mid-air trajectory by the blade. It's the exact same course of events as last night, except this time, I coated the blade in Wolfsbane, the deadliest substance known to wolves. Just one drop of Wolfsbane is enough to have a full grown wolf on his knees in seconds and dead within minutes. The only cure is silver, a metal rumored to harm wolves but in actuality has great healing benefits.

Point being, the wolfsbane coated on my blade and now infusing with his newly split open palm is enough to kill twenty werewolves.

The Ghost raises the knife to his face, inspecting it before dropping it to the earth to look at his palm that's practically gushing blood. His blue eyes raise to look at me through hooded eyelids. Slowly, he raises his palm to me, and I watch with morbid fascination as it knits together and heals before my very eyes. Only Alphas have those healing capabilities and even an Alpha would not be able to survive that much wolfsbane.

He should be dead.

For the first time, I do fear him. Not only have I tried to kill him once, but I tried again and like a cockroach, he just won't die. Damn bug.

Grayson forces me to take a step back, angling his much bigger body slightly in front of mine again.

Why would you do that? Grayson's anxious voice floods my head as he mind-links me. I look over to see his eyes flash silver, indicating his usage of his wolf to complete the link.

I knew he'd catch it. But that was supposed to kill him, I respond back to him. Icy fear grips my heart like a fist. Who doesn't die from wolfsbane?

The Wishing Tree stands tall to our left and I find myself praying, wishing, anything that we will make it out of this alive.

The killer's jaw clenches briefly before he leans down to pick up my knife, this time by the hilt. His eyes roam my face briefly before he turns as if to walk away.

Rage fills my chest, and I see red. Did he just come here to show me that I can't beat him? That I can't win? The thoughts cause a boldness in me that I'm sure I would regret later.

"Wait!" He pauses at my yell and turns his head slightly to look at me with those dead blue eyes again. "Who are you? What do you want?" Not a single emotion crosses his face, not even boredom or annoyance. Without a word, he heads back the way he came.

I jerk forward to follow him, only being stopped by Grayson's hand gripping my wrist with wide eyes. "Don't," he pleads. "Don't test our luck."

A loud sigh leaves my lips as I lose sight of the monster. Before I can even think of what I'm doing, words are practically flooding out of my mouth. "Don't tell anyone about this."

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Author's Note.

Oh man🫢

So what do we think?

Why do you think The Ghost didn't die from the wolfsbane?

Any theories as to why he wouldn't kill Grayson, either?

Why do you think he took Ripley's knife?

Stay tuned for next chapter😏 this is not the last time we will see The Ghost.

Also, above is Ripley's aesthetic! Let me know if you'd like to see more. I have a few that I've made.

Have a great weekend!

Xoxo,
Sydnee