39. Frankie

Chapter 39

Frankie

All at once, the alarm stops. The ringing echoes in my ears for a few moments as I rub them to ease the ache.

My mind reels as I stare at the clinical white walls of Blackwood’s secret lab, each breath a battle against the nausea threatening to overwhelm me.

The lab assaults all my senses at once, a sterile nightmare in stark whites and gleaming steel. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead like angry wasps, casting an unforgiving glare that seems to strip away all shadows and comfort.

The air is thick with the acrid smell of chemicals, burning my nostrils and leaving a metallic taste on my tongue. Beneath that, a strange ozone-like scent makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The constant hum of machinery vibrates through the floor, up my legs, and settles in my chest like a second heartbeat. Even the light feels wrong, too harsh and revealing, as if it’s trying to strip away our essence as shadow shifters.

Rows of complex machinery line the walls, their displays blinking with incomprehensible data, each light a silent testament to Blackwood’s twisted experiments. A series of empty examination tables line the center of the room, their leather straps hanging ominously at the sides.

I can almost hear the echoes of screams that these walls have absorbed, the pain and fear of Blackwood’s victims seeping into the foundation of this place.

Dorian stands beside me, his face a mask of shock and guilt. The shadows beneath his skin writhe, mirroring the turmoil in his eyes. I fight the urge to reach out and comfort him, to trace the lines of his curse and take away his pain, but the weight of his betrayal still hangs heavily between us, a chasm I’m not sure how to bridge.

“Why did they stop?” I turn to him.

All he can do is shake his head.

“We need to tell the others,” I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might awaken some dormant evil in this sterile hell.

Bishop. We need to find Bishop, but not just to confirm Valerie’s words. My gut is telling me he will know what to do and how to handle this.

Dorian nods, his eyes never leaving the bubbling vials that look so much like what Valerie used to inject me with. The memory sends a shiver down my spine, my own shadows coiling restlessly beneath my skin in response.

As Dorian pulls out his phone to contact the rest of our pack, I force myself to look closer at the lab and face the horror head-on. “How did we even get in here?” I whisper, the realization hitting me. “The wards, the security...”

Dorian’s face darkens, his voice low and intense. “Blackwood’s arrogance. He never thought anyone would find this place, let alone breach it, but we did, and that might be our only advantage.”

“Are we absolutely sure this is Blackwood’s lab?” My gaze falls on a series of charts and diagrams pinned to a corkboard. They show human silhouettes, their bodies crisscrossed with lines of shadow energy, a macabre roadmap of someone’s ambitions.

“It has to be, he is the only one who knew I was down here.” He shakes his head again as though shaking himself awake.

“Dorian,” I call, my voice wobbly, the tremor in it betraying the fear I’m trying to suppress. “Look at this.”

He comes to stand beside me, his breath catching as he takes in the diagrams. The shadows whisper their pain. “We have a moral obligation to find them and free them. They have to be down here somewhere.” His voice is low, intense, and laden with the weight of dark secrets.

I scan the board and find exactly what I’m looking for. “Blackwood’s signature. It is him,” I whisper.

The realization settles in my gut like a lead weight, making it hard to breathe. How many lives had been shattered in this sterile hell? How close did I come to being another test subject, another broken soul in Blackwood’s twisted game?

“Where are they?” I nibble my lip, but all the doors have vanished.

The shadows within me writhe and pulse beneath my skin, a living manifestation of my fear and anger, eager to lash out at the source. I clench my fists, trying to keep them contained, but I can feel my control slipping.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Dorian repeats.

Before I can voice more thoughts, the lab door bursts open with a resounding crash. Leo, Matteo, and Bishop rush in, their faces a mix of confusion and determination. The sudden intrusion shatters the oppressive silence, replacing it with the palpable tension of our pack united in the face of this new threat.

The door, which sealed itself, is now torn to pieces. Relief spreads through me that they found it, that they found us.

“Holy shit,” Leo murmurs, his eyes wide. “Did we just stumble into mad scientist central?”

“Blackwood’s been conducting secret experiments,” I explain quickly, gesturing to the charts with a hand that trembles slightly. “I just don’t know what he’s doing.”

Matteo’s face darkens with rage, his normally calm demeanor cracking to reveal the fury beneath. His tactical mind kicks into gear, his eyes scanning the room. “We need to neutralize this threat immediately. I suggest we start by securing all exits and gathering intel.” His hand brushes against mine as he moves past, a gesture of comfort and protection that sends a jolt of warmth through me.

“Wait,” Bishop interjects, his years of strategic training evident in his measured tone. “We can’t just rush in,” Bishop warns, his voice low. “One misstep, and Blackwood could bury everything we’ve uncovered. Remember what happened to the shadowmancers in ‘86?” His dark eyes meet mine, a silent plea for caution that I find hard to ignore. “It was in our history lessons.”

A lesson I didn’t get to.

“Are you serious?” I turn on him, anger flaring hot and bright in my chest. The shadows around us deepen in response, as if feeding off my emotion. “Look at this place! Who knows how many people he’s already hurt? And all we have are pictures.”

“I’m not saying we do nothing,” Bishop argues, his voice maddeningly calm, a counterpoint to the chaos of my thoughts, “but we need to be smart about this. If we play our cards right, we could bring down not just Blackwood, but anyone else involved in these experiments.”

A tense silence falls over the group as we consider Bishop’s words. I hate to admit it, but he has a point. Still, the thought of letting Blackwood continue his work, even for a short time, makes my skin crawl, the shadows beneath it churning with barely contained rage.

“What about the test subjects?” Dorian asks, breaking the silence. His voice is heavy with the weight of his own secrets and guilt. “We need to find them.”

I turn to look at the far end of the lab, where a row of containment units hums ominously. “There,” I say and rush over. There are a dozen buttons.

Naturally, I press a large red one.

A hum sounds, followed by a gear, and the top of the unit turns into a window. Beyond is a person sleeping peacefully.

There are a dozen units, each one possibly holding a person suspended in a shadowy substance that writhes and pulses like a living thing. My heart clenches at the sight, a mix of horror and empathy threatening to overwhelm me.

I stumble back, memories of Valerie’s “treatments” flooding my mind. The helplessness, the pain, the violation—I can almost feel the needle in my arm again. My shadows writhe beneath my skin, reacting to my distress.

“Frankie?” Leo’s voice breaks through the haze, his hand warm on my shoulder. “You okay?”

I take a shaky breath. “Yeah, I just... I know what it’s like to be trapped and experimented on. We have to help them.”

The determination in my voice surprises even me. We’re getting these people out, whatever it takes.

“We have to help them,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Whatever else we decide, we can’t leave them like this.”

Leo nods, moving toward the containment units. The determined set of his shoulders is a far cry from his usual carefree demeanor. “I agree, but how do we get them out without alerting Blackwood?”

As if in answer to his question, another alarm suddenly blares to life, the sound piercing and relentless. Red lights flash, bathing the lab in an eerie glow that turns the shadows into writhing, monstrous shapes.

“Shit,” Matteo curses, his tactical mind already racing for a solution. “We’ve been made.”

“We need to move, now,” Bishop orders, already heading for the door. His calm facade has cracked, revealing the urgency beneath. “Grab what evidence you can. We’ll have to come back for the test subjects.”

My feet feel rooted to the spot, my gaze darting between the exit and the containment units. Each second stretches into eternity as the alarms blare around us. My hand reaches out toward the nearest unit, then pulls back, my entire body a battlefield between self-preservation and the desperate need to help.

Dorian grabs my arm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me despite everything. His eyes plead with me, a mix of fear and determination that mirrors my own. “Frankie, we have to go. We can’t help them if we’re caught too.”

For a moment, we’re frozen, our faces inches apart. I can see the conflict in his eyes and feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Part of me wants to close that gap and seek comfort in his embrace, but now isn’t the time.

I nod and reluctantly step back. As we turn to leave, I catch Leo watching us with an unreadable expression on his face. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a small, reassuring smile that makes my heart skip a beat.

God, when did this all get so complicated?

With a heavy heart, I nod and snatch a handful of documents from the nearby desk. The paper is rough against my suddenly sensitive fingertips, each touch a reminder of the lives at stake. As I follow the others out of the lab, my mind spins with everything we discovered.

We burst out of the lab, the alarms still blaring behind us. The cool night air hits like a wall after the sterile atmosphere inside.

“This way!” Bishop hisses, leading us toward a patch of deeper shadows near the building’s edge.

My heart pounds as we sprint across the open ground. Matteo brings up the rear, his eyes scanning for pursuers. Leo is at my side, his usual grin replaced by grim determination.

Just as we reach the tree line, a shout rings out behind us. “There! Stop them!”

“Shit,” Dorian mutters, his shadows writhing beneath his skin.

Without thinking, I reach out with my own powers, drawing the darkness around us like a cloak. It’s not perfect, since I’m still learning, but it’s enough to blur our outlines as we plunge into the forest.

We don’t stop running until the shouts fade into the distance, replaced by the sound of our ragged breathing and the whisper of wind through leaves.

Only then do we pause, all of us panting and on high alert. The sudden silence is almost as deafening as the alarms, broken only by our ragged breathing.

We look at each other, the reality of what we just witnessed sinking in. Without a word, Leo pulls me into a hug. I feel Matteo’s hand on my back as Dorian’s fingers intertwine with mine. Even Bishop steps closer, his presence a silent comfort.

For a moment, we just stand there, drawing strength from each other. We’re more than just a pack now—we’re a family bound by secrets and shadows.

“Well…” Leo finally breaks the silence, his voice rough with emotion. “I guess game night is cancelled, huh?”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of me, echoed by the others. Leave it to Leo to find humor even now. As we pull apart, I feel stronger and more determined. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

“What now?” Leo asks, looking around at our ragged group. Leo’s face is pale in the moonlight, tension written in every line. For once, there’s no hint of a joke in his voice.

I suck in a lungful of air, willing my pulse to slow. The night air is a blessed relief after the chemical-laden atmosphere of the lab, but it does little to ease the knot of dread in my stomach.

As I run my hand through my hair, I realize I’m still clutching a crumpled paper from the lab. Smoothing it out, I see a scrawled note in Blackwood’s handwriting. “Project Phoenix—merge shadow and light. Key to saving both realms?”

My breath catches. Saving the realms? What the hell is Blackwood really up to? I show the note to the others, watching as confusion and concern flicker across their faces.

“Looks like this goes deeper than we thought,” Bishop murmurs, his eyes dark with worry.

“Okay,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “We need to think this through. We can’t just charge back in there.” An idea starts to form, hazy at first but quickly sharpening.

Matteo nods, his eyes dark with determination. “We gather more evidence, build a case against him, then we take it to the council.”

“And what about the test subjects?” Dorian asks, voicing the question that’s been gnawing at me. Dorian’s voice is thick with something that sounds a lot like guilt. “We can’t just leave them there.”

A heavy silence falls over the group. I glance around at the others. Leo is bouncing on his toes, eager for action, Matteo’s brow is furrowed in thought, Bishop looks conflicted, and Dorian... Dorian just looks haunted. We all know the risks of going back, but the thought of abandoning those people to Blackwood’s experiments is unbearable.

Finally, I speak up, my voice steady despite the fear churning in my gut. “We’ll go back tomorrow night. We’ll free as many as we can and gather whatever evidence we find along the way.”

“It’s dangerous,” Bishop warns, but I can see the resolve in his eyes. He knows as well as I do that we have no other choice.

“Then we’ll be careful,” I reply, squaring my shoulders. “What could go right?”

“What could go right?” Leo mutters, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe we’ll find out this is all just some elaborate prank. Or maybe discover he’s actually been working on a cure for cancer this whole time.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but crack a small smile. Leave it to Leo to find levity even in our darkest moments.

“Focus,” Bishop chides, but there’s no real heat in his voice. “We need a solid plan if we’re going back in there.”

Matteo nods, his tactical mind already whirring. “We can’t do it all at once,” Matteo says. “We’ll have to divide and conquer.”

“I’ll lead the rescue team,” I volunteer without hesitation. I can’t shake the image of those people floating in the containment units. It makes my skin crawl. “Dorian, you’re with me. You know the lab layout better than any of us.”

Dorian nods, his face a mask of determination. The guilt in his eyes has been replaced by a fierce resolve. “Agreed. We’ll need to move fast and stay quiet.”

“We should rest.” Bishop looks out over the forest. “I should get back.”

Swallowing my pride, I reach for Bishop and grip his bicep. The others fall back, giving us a moment of privacy.

“Hey.” He turns to me, and it’s then I realize he’s wearing a uniform—one just like that girl from Aurora University. The sight of it sends a chill down my spine, reminding me of how little I truly know about Bishop’s role here.

“Bishop,” I start, my voice low, “that uniform... Are you working for them?”

He looks down, as if just remembering what he’s wearing. When he meets my eyes again, there’s a weariness there I’ve never seen before. “It’s... complicated, Frankie. I took this position to protect our kind, to be a voice on the inside, but I never imagined...” He trails off, shaking his head.

I want to press for more, but now isn’t the time. Still, the revelation adds another layer to the already complex web we’re tangled in.

“Come back with us,” I blurt out. “To the cottage.”

For a moment, his mouth just opens and closes in shock.

Bishop’s eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he schools his expression back to neutrality. I caught a glimmer of something else there too—longing, perhaps? He glances down at my hand on his arm, then back to my face.

“Frankie, I...” He pauses, seeming to struggle with his words. “I appreciate the offer, but I have responsibilities. My position here?—”

“Can wait,” I interrupt, my voice low but intense. “Just for tonight. We need you, Bishop. I need you.”

The admission costs me something, but I know it’s true. Despite our differences and the secrets I know he’s still keeping, Bishop’s steady presence grounds me in a way I can’t quite explain.

He hesitates, and I can almost see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. Duty wars with desire, obligation with connection.

“Please,” I add softly, not above a little manipulation if it gets results. “After what we just saw, I don’t think any of us should be alone tonight.”

That seems to tip the scales. Bishop’s shoulders relax slightly, and he nods, giving me a small but genuine smile.

Relief spreads through me, and I give him a partial smirk. “You can sleep on the couch or with Dorian.”

His laughter follows me all the way to our cottage.