POV: Sloane Waylon

It has been hours since the doctor and nurse left me alone, hours since the man with silver eyes—the one they couldn't see… vanished into thin air like smoke and made me look like a woman with no sanity.

I told myself it wasn't real. That it was trauma, brain damage, or some hallucination from whatever the hell had happened to me.

But that didn't explain the way my wolf, Tia, had cowered when she saw him and it also didn't explain how I got into another person's body.

How could I have been in another person's body? Never in my life have I heard of soul exchanging. Why is this happening to me?

I checked my body all over again, my hand subconsciously touching my skin, which wasn't mine.

I tried to sleep. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blade that killed me. My pack's betrayal. The ballerina's fall. And most importantly, those silver eyes, watching me through all of it.

Who was he? His name? Is he my imagination?

I couldn't help but sit upright, hugging my knees, and then it came. The air in the room shifted, and my skin prickled in alarm.

My pulse thundered as he appeared.

No given warning, no footsteps. One moment, the corner was empty; the next, he stood in it, hands in the pockets of that long, smoke-black coat. His short brown hair framed a face too sharp to be called handsome, too cold to be anything but dangerous.

“Miss me?” he asked with a smooth voice.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my palm like I was seeing doubles, then opened it back. “This must be hallucinations.”

“Oh, you find it hard to believe? It's better to believe now, than later.”

I swallowed hard, keeping my back pressed against the headboard like I didn't want to believe he was invisible and no one except me could see him. “Are you some sort of a ghost? Why do you just barge in like you own the earth? What if I were bathing? Just stay away from me!”

But he didn't. Instead, he closed the distance in three slow, measured steps until he stood beside my bed.

A ghost?

I gulped in, my eyes closed out of fear.

“I shouldn't come unannounced? I told you,” he murmured, “you're mine now, and I can show up whenever.”

“I'm not….”

He cut me off, leaning just enough for his silver gaze to spear mine. “I'm Stefan Joaquin. Some call me the Ghost King.’”

I didn't know where it came from, but a brittle laugh escaped my lips. “No, no, no, this must be a joke. Do you even hear yourself? Ghost King?”

His lips curved, not in amusement, but in warning. “Defiance is an ugly look for you, little Luna.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Instead of answering, he reached for my arm. I flinched back and realized he was a ghost and his hands truly can't touch me.

He took out a small, dark vial from his coat and uncapped it. The scent of herbs hit my nose as I watched him dip two fingers inside and brush the ointment over the bruises along my forearm.

“You—” My voice wavered. “You’re… treating me?”

He didn't answer at first, just worked in silence even when it was invisible.

Finally, without looking up, “I don't like my possessions damaged.”

Possessions.

I yanked my arms back, but he didn't seem offended…if anything, that smirk on his face deepened.

“You have a debt to pay,” he simply said, and I scoffed, even though my mind was clouded with fear.

“I don't owe you anything.”

He straightened, looking down at me like a teacher looking after a child. “Oh, but you do. I brought you back, Sloane. Dragged you out of death's mouth and gave you a body to walk this earth again. I gave you a voice even though you were supposed to be a mute. That isn't free.”

“I didn't ask you to!” I snapped. “I didn't want to be here. I didn't want my heart aching for betrayal.”

“Neither did Elise Durant. If you act on my rules, perhaps I might have mercy on you.”

The name…the ballerina's name… dropped from his lips like ice.

My breath caught. “What… what did you say?”

His eyes narrowed just slightly, assessing me. “The girl whose skin you wore wasn't just a vessel. She was murdered, same as you. And I have unfinished business with the ones who did it.”

My stomach turned cold instantly. “What do you mean ‘unfinished business’? You were using her… and you should have helped her if you didn't want her dead!”

“Perhaps, she wanted death, and I found out you were a perfect match for me. Your plea,” he gave me a mused gaze. “Your plea to live rang through my ears, and rather than saving Elise, I saved you. You will find out soon enough. For now, you'll play your part.”

“I’m not helping you.”

Something in his expression sharpened, not anger, not exactly. He leaned down, close enough that I could see the strange light shifting in his eyes.

"Every time you disobey me,” he whispered, “someone else will bleed.”

My chest tightened painfully in fear. “What do you mean?”

“If you defy my rules, everyone around you will start facing the consequences. You'll see.”

My heart rose, my hand subconsciously holding my chest in pain. “Doctor! Nurse! The ghost is here again!” I cried out in fear as he disappeared into thin air.

No, you have gone crazy, Sloane.