12. Frankie

Chapter 12

Frankie

The bass thumps through my dorm room floorboards, vibrating like a giant heartbeat. It’s the annual rugby bash that practically takes over campus. Every other year, I’d burrow under the covers and pretend it didn’t exist. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to attend the parties, more like I didn’t feel welcome.

Now, excitement crackles in the air, thick enough to practically drink, and I’m a part of it. Things are so different when you’re on the inside, laughing with friends instead of watching from the sidelines. Even here in the dorms, the other students are buzzing with anticipation.

It’s electric.

Tori spins in front of the mirror, a vision in a shimmering emerald dress that clings to her curves in all the right places. Her blond hair cascades down her back in perfect waves, and she sports smoky eye makeup that looks like actual magic to create.

I can’t help but admire Tori’s transformation. She looks stunning, like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. A pang of something, envy or admiration, twists in my gut. If things were different, if Valerie hadn’t… I shake my head, pushing away the dark thoughts. There is no use dwelling on what-ifs.

“Spill it.” I grin, tossing a black tank top and ripped jeans onto the bed. “What’s the secret to that makeup sorcery?”

Tori sashays over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Years of practice, darling, and a whole lot of YouTube tutorials.” She winks, snatching the tank top and holding it against herself. “This is what you are going to wear?”

“It’s working for you.” I snatch the tank from her hands. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it per se,” Tori says with a twist to her lips, eyeing the tank top critically. “It’s just a bit… plain, don’t you think? For a night like this, you need something that will make you stand out, something that screams ‘I’m here, and I’m ready to party!’”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “And what, pray tell, would you suggest?” Please don’t tell me she’s going to try to dress me in one of her dresses.

Tori’s eyes light up as she darts to her closet, rummaging through the hangers with purpose. After a moment, she emerges with a triumphant, “Aha!” and holds up a sleek, black leather jacket.

“Now this,” she says, thrusting the jacket into my hands, “this is what you need. Pair it with that tank and those jeans, and you’ll be turning heads all night.”

I slip the jacket on, relishing the soft, supple feel of the leather against my skin. Glancing in the mirror, I have to admit Tori’s right—the jacket adds an edge to the outfit, transforming it from casual to cool in an instant.

“Alright, I concede.” I laugh, doing a little twirl. “You win this round, oh fashion guru.”

Tori grins, looking smug. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll have you slaying the style game in no time.”

“Kid?” I snort. “I haven’t been a kid in a long-ass time. If I ever was a kid,” I mutter under my breath.

Tori hears me and gives me a pained expression. I look away, the familiar ache of loss tightening my chest. The memories of my parents are like ghosts, always haunting the edges of my mind. “Frankie?—”

“Nope.” I point at her. “You just can’t change some things.”

“Do you remember them?” she blurts almost as though she is racing herself to get the words out.

“Who?” I frown.

“Your parents.”

I’m already shaking my head before she can finish the question. “No.”

“Did they leave you with anything?” She sounds exasperated. We’ve been around this conversation a few times. It still hasn’t sunk in.

I reply with patience, because when you grow up with even one parent, it’s strange knowing your friend didn’t have one. “Nothing, no engraved baby blanket or tattoo that explains a mysterious heritage. No note. Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Tori says softly, her voice laced with genuine concern. “I know this is a difficult topic for you, but I was just trying to help.”

I offer her a small smile. “I know, Tori. I appreciate it.” Actually, it is her I appreciate. I’ve never had a friend who cared enough to even ask me about my parents, let alone how their deaths affected me. Truth is, I don’t want to talk about my parents. Not tonight, not ever. The pain of their absence is too raw, because unlike other orphans, they didn’t leave a human baby in that hospital cradle.

They left a shadow shifter.

“Well, like I told you,” she says, “Mom can run a check.”

“I know,” I reply, untangling the wild mess that was my braid. “But at the end of the day, I don’t know if it even matters.” The fact that I don’t want to know more about the people who dropped me off in a cradle for others to care for drives Tory crazy.

I don’t really want to know more about what kind of people can do that to their child.

I groan, wanting to change the subject.

Tori looks up from carefully applying her mascara. “Okay, spill. What’s eating you?”

I hesitate, because if she is going to accept a conversation change, it’ll be about me building a pack.

“It’s Bishop and Dorian. I know I should hate them after everything that happened, but…” I trail off, frustrated.

Tori sets her mascara aside, giving me her full attention. “But you’re starting to feel something for them,” she finishes.

I nod miserably. “I feel like I’m betraying myself, you know? Like I’m falling for their act all over again.”

Tori’s silent for a moment. “Look, Frankie,” she says, “people change. Maybe they have, maybe they haven’t, but you can’t control how you feel. Just… be careful, okay?” Her words offer little comfort, but it helps to have them out in the open. “You ready?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I bundle her words into a mental drawstring bag and stuff it into my pocket.

With a final flick of mascara, Tori grabs my hand, pulling me out the door and into the hallway. The music from below intensifies as we navigate the crowded corridors, the energy of the party seeping through the walls. As we step closer to the source of the sound, the common room explodes in a kaleidoscope of light, sound, and movement. Dozens of bodies writhe on the makeshift dance floor, bathed in the pulsing glow of strobing lights. The air is thick with the scents of sweat, alcohol, and a hint of something illicit—a reminder of the wildness that often lurks beneath the surface of college life.

It’s bizarre having a party in the dorm. I originally wondered what the admin would think if they knew. They know. In fact, every now and then, I see a professor almost supervising. I spot a few professors mingling with the crowd, their presence a reminder of why we’re really here. This isn’t just a party, it’s a chance for us to form bonds and find our packs. The future of our kind depends on these connections, and the faculty is here to subtly guide us toward our destinies.

Tori grabs my hand again, this time leading me straight into the heart of the party. A surge of nervous energy flits through me. The sheer volume of bodies and the pulsating music is overwhelming, but Tori’s infectious enthusiasm is a grounding force. We weave through the crowd, dodging excited dancers and spilled drinks. Laughter spills from my lips, a sound both unfamiliar and exhilarating. For the first time in my life, I feel like I truly belong. I’m surrounded by people who accept me for who I am and celebrate my uniqueness. I’m not just Frankie, the orphan who was left on a hospital doorstep. I’m Frankie, the girl who’s finally found her place in the world, and we haven’t even reached the rugby field yet.

As the song dies down, I tug Tori toward the fire exit leading outside. Stepping onto the cool grass, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp night air. Unlike the night the beast showed up, the air vibrates tonight with a carefree vibe, allowing me to relax and soak in the atmosphere.

“Come on, let’s see the guys,” Tori says, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the rugby field. All around us, students laugh and morph seamlessly from one form to another, a mesmerizing display of shape-shifting prowess.

“Well, well,” Amanda drawls, her voice dripping with condescension. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just when I thought this night might actually be fun.

“Tori,” I mumble, a familiar knot of tension tightening in my stomach as I see the two other girls approaching.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Chloe chimes in, her voice sharp, like broken glass. “We weren’t going to miss out on your grand debut.” Their words are laced with a cruel amusement that makes my skin crawl. They know who and what I am, but to me, these two are nothing more than bullies, ones who tried to kill me and left me for dead. I clench my fists, trying to ignore the urge to retaliate.

We’re better than this, right?

The air crackles with tension as we try to navigate around them, but Amanda’s having none of it. She sticks out a leg, and with a yelp, Tori goes sprawling onto the sidewalk.

My world goes red. Anger, hot and primal, surges through me, and before I can even think, I whip around, moving with a speed and power I didn’t know I possessed. My hand connects with a resounding slap against Amanda’s cheek, sending her stumbling back in surprise. My heart races and my head spins as I take in what I just did.

Tori stares at me wide-eyed, shock etched on her features, then Amanda moves, her arm whipping back for a haymaker. I’m ready for her this time. I dodge her attack with ease, moving with a speed and agility that surprises even me. Without thinking, I grab her wrist and twist it behind her back, causing her to cry out in pain.

“You think you’re so tough,” she spits at me, struggling to break free from my grasp, “just because you have some supernatural powers now? You are nothing. I should have made sure you were dead.”

My grip tightens on her wrist. “No,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t think I’m tough, and I don’t think I’m better than anyone else.” I lower my voice, a dangerous edge creeping in. “But I do know I am better than you.”

With a final shove, I send Amanda stumbling backwards. She glares up at me with hatred burning in her eyes, but there’s also fear there now, a seed of doubt I planted with pleasure.

“You’ll pay for this,” she hisses before scrambling to her feet and slinking back to Chloe’s side.

“Stupid bitch,” Chloe mutters, her red hair bristling like a cornered cat. “I’m going to take your pack.”

A scoff escapes my lips. “Joke’s on you, I don’t have one.” Technically true, but the possessiveness in Chloe’s voice makes it clear what she’s really after.

“So you’d be cool if I took Bishop?” she sings, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “Leo? Matteo?”

She forgot about Dorian, but I keep that information close to the vest for now. There’s no need to give them more ammunition.

“Yeah,” Amanda chimes in. Maybe the fight knocked some sense into her.

“That college education really expanded your vocabulary, Amanda, I’m so impressed,” I deadpan, sarcasm dripping from my voice. The last thing I need is them turning this into a bidding war over the guys.

“Oh please, let her keep my sloppy seconds.” Amanda flips her hair over her shoulder, a forced confidence masking her earlier fear.

“Oh please, Amanda, you and I both know you never got anywhere with Bishop.” Tori dusts herself off and glares at Chloe while remaining on the ground. “Or you. Neither of you have any chance with the guys.”

Chloe lunges, her nails extended like claws, but instead of connecting with my skin, a shimmering, smoky barrier materializes around me and Tori, deflecting the attack. A gasp escapes Chloe, and she stumbles back, staring at her hand where a thin red line mars her pale skin.

Time seems to slow down. The air crackles with a faint light that emanates from the barrier. It’s dark but not a true black, more like a swirling smoke. My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

What the hell just happened? Exhilaration and terror course through me. The power I’d just wielded felt both foreign and familiar, like a part of me I’d always known but never acknowledged.

“Whoa,” a voice rumbles behind me. I spin around, my vision clearing just in time to see two guys materialize from the shadows. One, with dark hair and dark eyes, is tall and imposing, his chiseled features etched with concern. The other, with sun-kissed blond hair and a mischievous grin, seems more laid back but no less watchful.

Matteo and Leo.

“Are you girls alright?” Matteo asks, his gaze flitting between me and Tori, who’s slowly pulling herself off the ground.

“We… We’re fine,” I stammer, the barrier dissolving around us, leaving me feeling strangely drained.

A deep, composed voice cuts through the air, steady and authoritative. It sends a vibration right down my spine—a familiar sensation I’ve been trying to ignore. “Everyone, let’s take a step back,” Bishop says, his dark eyes assessing the situation. Our gazes lock for a moment, and I see a flicker of our shared past in his expression—foster siblings, summer lovers, and now… what? He clears his throat. “Frankie, Tori, come with us. We’ll sort this out.” Fuck, I’ve been able to avoid him until now.

Leo steps forward, his usual easygoing grin in place, but there’s a glint of steel in his eyes. “Hey now, Chloe,” he drawls, “if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked. No need to go all feline fury on my friends.” He winks, but it’s more warning than flirtation. The tension in the air shifts, not quite breaking but changing flavor.

Amanda and Chloe, clearly flustered, mutter something under their breath and disappear into the throng of students.

Matteo just shares a look with Bishop, a silent conversation passing between them. “We were just coming to find you two,” Matteo says.

“What was that?” Leo asks, stepping closer. His dark eyes bore into mine, as if searching for answers.

I shrug, still trying to process what happened. “I… I don’t know. I just… felt a surge of energy and then…” My voice trails off, the memory of the barrier returning with a jolt—the dark, smoky haze that enveloped us and the way it deflected Chloe’s attack.

“It was a shield,” Matteo says quietly, his gaze thoughtful. “A powerful one. You protected yourselves without even realizing it.”

My mind reels with the implications. A protective shield? Could that be part of my newfound abilities?

“What does it mean?” I whisper, a mixture of excitement and trepidation bubbling in my chest.

Before Matteo can offer any further explanation, a wave of dizziness washes over me. My knees buckle, and the world begins to tilt sideways. Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground, and I find myself looking up into Leo’s concerned blue eyes.

“Easy there,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. His arms tighten around me, and for a moment, I allow myself to feel safe in his embrace. Leo’s eyes meet mine, filled with concern and something deeper, something that makes my heart skip a beat. “I’ve got you, Frankie,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek. “You’re safe now.”

The next thing I know, the world dissolves into a blur of rushing lights and hushed whispers.