For two months, I’ve been hiding in the last place my NHL ex-fiancé would ever look.
The home arena of the Ghosts—his team’s fiercest rivals.
I’ve survived by becoming invisible, avoiding cameras, and living in abandoned maintenance tunnels with a stolen ID badge. And it’s working.
At least until I meet the one alpha who understands what it’s like to hide.
Wraith—the mute, massive, scarred “monster” power forward fans whisper about—finds me sick, weak, and alone in the tunnels where he escapes, too.
Instead of turning me in, he brings me soup and keeps me warm. Then the team’s new winger, Valek, discovers me and Wraith attacks him to protect me. I finish the job with a fire extinguisher.
Now Valek’s recovering in the Ghosts’ pack house with a concussion, and I’m hiding from him in the freaking loft.
Oh. And I find out I’m scent-matched to the Ghosts. Wraith, whose broken pieces fit perfectly with mine. Plague, whose icy composure feels like solid ground.
Whiskey, the himbo golden retriever who reminds me how to laugh. Thane, the captain who promises sanctuary and safety. And then there’s the strange, unreadable way Valek watches me.
The Ghosts are offering me a choice. A home. Protection from my ex without strings attached. The problem? I don’t know how to trust anymore.
Not when the last alpha’s promises ended with me burning off my own mating mark.
