7. Frankie

Chapter 7

Frankie

I jolt awake, my heart racing as shadows dance at the edge of my vision. For a moment, I’m not sure if I’m still dreaming or if the darkness is real. My body aches, a reminder of recent events, but there’s also a lingering warmth, a ghost of Matteo’s embrace from the night before. The contrast is jarring—the comfort of his memory versus the harsh reality of waking up alone. I feel raw and bare, like a nerve ending exposed to the air. Part of me craves Matteo’s presence, his steady strength, and his analytical mind that somehow makes sense of the chaos, but another part, the survivor in me, whispers caution. Attachment is dangerous, and trust is a luxury I can’t afford. The internal conflict leaves me feeling adrift, caught between the desire for connection and the instinct for self-preservation.

The first thing I feel is the emptiness beside me. The warmth that enveloped me through the night is gone, replaced by the cool, impersonal chill of morning air. My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m disoriented. The soft light filtering through the curtains casts a serene glow over the room, a stark contrast to the chaos in my head.

I sit up slowly, my body protesting every movement. Memories from the night before flood my mind—Dorian’s protective embrace, Matteo’s comforting presence, and the heart-wrenching conversation with Tori. Each memory is like a sharp needle, pricking at the fragile shield I tried to build around myself. The lingering scent of Matteo’s cologne, a mix of pine and something darker, clings to the sheets, a bittersweet reminder of his absence.

“I am stronger than my emotions,” I remind myself, but just as quickly, Valerie’s voice follows, Good girls don’t cry. I clench my fists, a spark of defiance igniting within me. “Well, guess what, Valerie? I’m not just a good girl anymore.”

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. Matteo’s absence causes a strange ache in my chest, a feeling of loss that I can’t quite explain. I know he stayed with me all night, watching over me even when I didn’t know it, and now he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ever-present nightmares that cling to me like a second skin.

I glance around the room, noting the small details that bring a sense of comfort—the soft throw blanket draped over the chair, the framed photos on the dresser, and the faint scent of lavender.

These are Tori’s touches, reminders of the friendship that has somehow survived despite secrets and betrayals. There’s even a picture of us. I have no idea when she took it, but I feel distant from the young women smiling in the picture. It’s a far cry from our sparse dorm room at the academy, where textbooks on code sit alongside novels and fashion magazines.

What catches my attention most is Matteo’s lingering scent on the pillow next to me. I find myself leaning into it, inhaling deeply. It’s comforting and terrifying all at once. He has quickly become a source of solace for me. The realization makes my heart race with a cocktail of longing and fear.

Pushing myself to my feet, I shuffle toward the bathroom, wincing as the cool tiles meet my bare soles. The mirror reflects a face I barely recognize—pale, drawn, and eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something deeper, a persistent fear that refuses to let go.

“Let it go, Frankie,” I whisper to my reflection. As I say it, I notice a flicker of determination in my eyes, a spark of the girl who survived Valerie’s torment.

I splash water on my face, trying to wash away the remnants of the nightmares that cling to me. Valerie’s face haunts me, her cruel smile a constant reminder of the darkness I’ve endured, but as I look into my own eyes, I see a glimmer of something else—strength. It’s the resolve not to just survive, but to thrive. I wonder briefly if I could use my emerging shadow abilities to shield my mind from these invasive memories. Professor Blackwood mentioned something about mental barriers in last week’s psychic defense class.

With a deep breath, I step into the bedroom. The soft rustle of paper catches my attention, and I find a note on the nightstand. Matteo’s handwriting is unmistakable, bold and steady.

Frankie, I had to leave early, but I’ll be back. You’re safe here. Rest and heal. I’m only a shadow away.

Matteo

A small smile tugs at my lips despite the turmoil inside me. His words are a promise and a lifeline that I desperately need. I tuck the note into my pocket, letting the warmth of his words seep into my heart. For a moment, I recall the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the strength in his arms when he held me, then I shake my head, reminding myself of the secrets he kept.

After dressing in the muumuu Tori gave me last night, I head downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, leading me to the kitchen where Tori is bustling about, her back to me.

“Morning,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turns, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Morning, Frankie. How are you feeling?”

I hesitate, searching for the right words. “Better, I think.” I prod at my scars that only ache slightly, but they are nowhere near as painful as they were. “Thanks for last night.”

Tori nods, her eyes full of understanding. “Anytime.”

I take a seat at the kitchen island. “It’s… a lot to process.”

She places a steaming mug of coffee in front of me, sitting down across from me. “Take your time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my cold fingers. As I take a sip, I instantly think of Leo and his coffee puns. The memory brings a smile to my lips, quickly followed by a pang of anxiety. These guys—Leo, Matteo, Bishop, and Dorian—are becoming important to me—maybe too important. The thought of letting them in, of being vulnerable with them, sends a wave of panic through me. What if they hurt me like Valerie did? What if I’m not strong enough to survive that kind of betrayal again?

Fuck it.

I bite my lip, and the question I’ve been dreading finally spills out. “So, uh… Leo and Bishop. Are they…” I trail off, unable to finish.

Tori’s lips quirk into a knowing smirk. She fishes her phone from her pocket before sliding it across the counter. “See for yourself. Bishop’s been blowing up my phone since dawn.”

I tap the screen, my eyes widening at the flood of notifications. Thirty-two missed calls and over fifty texts. “Jesus,” I mutter, a mix of concern and irritation washing over me. “I guess being a shadow shifter doesn’t make you immune to clingy ex syndrome, huh?”

Tori snorts, rolling her eyes. “Tell me about it. Part of me wants to let him stew, you know?”

Actually, I don’t.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m ignoring him.” She shrugs, pocketing her phone again. “Let him suffer. Besides, he has his own issues to work through, and I don’t trust him.”

I raise my brows at that and sip my coffee. The rich aroma and bitter taste ground me, providing a small comfort amidst the chaos of my thoughts. I know Tori has her reasons for being cautious, and I can’t blame her. Trust is a fragile thing in our world, easily broken and hard to mend.

As we sit in companionable silence, I allow myself to relax—the warmth of the coffee, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the soft light filtering through the windows. It’s a rare moment of peace, and I cling to it, letting it bolster the fragile hope growing within me.

“The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off,” Tori says suddenly, her voice rising with frustration. “He has a lot to own up to. I mean, he knew his mama wanted me to pick him for my pack, so I went along with the whole arranged mating, and he still pursued you. Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

I pause, my mind racing with this new revelation. “What?”

“Yeah. He basically cheated on me with you, and now we are besties because we are girls’ girls.” She blinks her big baby blue eyes at me. “But him? He knew. You did not.”

“I suspected,” I admit, wincing. It makes me look like a shitty friend, but in my defense, we weren’t friends yet. I can’t help but think about how complicated shadow shifter relationships seem to be. Is this what I’m signing up for?

She waves my words away. “I’m blaming him, and now as your designated bestie, I’m telling you that you need to make them work for your devotion.”

I’m damn near speechless for several reasons. “What the fuck is a girl’s girl?”

“Oh, that.” She leans on the counter, her expression softening. “A girl’s girl is someone who has respect for female etiquette,” she explains, drumming her fingers lightly on the countertop. “It means not being petty, and striving to be ethical and decent in your dealings with your female friends. Basically, it’s about lifting each other up instead of tearing each other down.”

I mull over her words, letting them sink in. It’s a concept that feels foreign to me, given the isolation and betrayal I’ve experienced, but sitting here with Tori’s sincere gaze on me, I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe this is something I can embrace, a way to rebuild the trust that’s been shattered.

“So you’re saying we support each other no matter what?” I ask, my voice tentative.

Tori nods firmly. “Exactly. We have each other’s backs. No jealousy or backstabbing, just pure, honest friendship.” She gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s about being there for each other through thick and thin, and right now, Frankie, you need that support.”

I take another sip of coffee, and warmth spreads through me from the drink and Tori’s words. “Okay, I think I get it. It sounds… nice.”

“It is nice,” Tori says with a nod. “It’s empowering. We’ve been through a lot, and we deserve to have each other’s support. No more secrets or lies.”

I find myself nodding along, the idea of a genuine, supportive friendship more appealing than I expected. “I like the sound of that.”

Tori grins. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now, and I’m going to make sure those guys earn every bit of your trust and devotion.”

A laugh escapes me, surprising both of us. It feels good, like a small weight lifting off my shoulders. “I think I can get behind that.”

“Damn right you can,” Tori says with a chuckle. She reaches out and squeezes my hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “We’ve got this, Frankie.”

I don’t feel as confident, but she’s on a roll.

“So what are you thinking?” I ask, sipping my coffee.

“Well, it is winter break.” Her eyes glimmer with mischief.

“It is.”

“And we have six weeks to do whatever the hell we want.” She draws circles on the countertop with her fingers.

“Spit it out.”

“Well, I was thinking we take a girls’ trip,” she blurts out. “Mom and Aunt Andy are on board, and Aunt Andy said she’s even willing to close the bar.”

“She can’t do that!” I screech, thinking about how many shadow shifters rely on that bar as a safe haven.

Tori waves a hand dismissively. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Aunt Andy never chose a pack, but she has plenty of suitors always willing to keep things running. She will only really close the bar for like a week.”

I frown. “Your mom and Andy don’t have packs?” I ask, realizing how little I know about shadow shifter social structures.

“Nope.”

“May I ask why?”

“Don’t you want to hear my devious plans first?” She looks affronted. “Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “They are twins,” she says it like that explains it all. When she sees the confused expression on my face, she continues, “Autonomy mostly, but also because of twin telepathy. When you bond with a pack, then you are in each other’s heads, and they didn’t want to lose their connection.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.

It is. My mind reels at the implications. I lived for a long time without autonomy, so having another person in my head is a hard no—at least for now. The idea of bonding with a pack suddenly seems more daunting than ever.

“You’re taking everything so well, you know,” Tori comments, her voice gentle. She fidgets with her mug, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her usual confidence. “When I first learned, I threw a full-on tantrum and broke half the dishes in the house.” She laughs, but there’s a tinge of embarrassment in it. “Sometimes I still feel like I’m fumbling in the dark, trying to figure all this out.”

“Wait, you didn’t always just know?”

She shakes her head, her eyes softening with empathy. “No, Frankie. It took me a while to understand and accept everything too, but look at us now, navigating through all this together. We’ll be alright.”

I sip my coffee, savoring the connection. For the first time in a long while, I feel a spark of hope, although I’m not ruling out the option to run for the hills and hide on a goat farm. “Huh, so you had to learn all of this? But you had your mom and aunt to help you navigate everything.”

“I mean, yes, but when you first cross the veil, it’s disorienting as fuck.” Tori shudders. “It’s like falling into a puddle that just keeps on going, you know?”

No, I don’t, because Dorian pulled me through the veil—another reminder of how different my experience has been.

“What plans do you have?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

She gets excited. “Okay, so I was thinking since everything is like really fresh, like last night fresh” —she gives me a look I can’t quite translate— “I was thinking of a spa retreat. You know, relaxing, drinks, and doing absolutely nothing but just existing for a whole six weeks.”

I chew on my cheek. I’ve never had a spa week with friends. The idea is both appealing and terrifying.

“You can take the time to digest all this shadow shifter stuff, and I can fill in all those teeny tiny, pesky little details, catch you up to speed, and let you digest the information in little bite-sized pieces,” she says, and I admit it sounds really appealing. “Plus, the spa I’m thinking of is all-inclusive, so we can sip mint juleps in a lounge chair by the pool while having some hot zaddies rub our feet.”

What the hell is a zaddy? I make a mental note to look that up later. Tori looks so excited, as though she was up all night planning this trip.

I gaze out the window at the early morning light. In the distance, I can just make out the island, which looks like nothing but a smudge. Something in my gut tugs at me to run to the university, and I know without a shadow of a doubt why—it has everything to do with four men—but then I remember everything they withheld from me, and hurt pierces my chest. I swing my gaze back to Tori. For some reason, when I look at Tori, I don’t feel the same resentment I hold against the guys. What I really need to discover is whether or not I can forgive them and move forward.

“I need this,” I whisper. Part of me aches to run back to the university, to confront the guys and demand answers, but another part, the survivor in me, knows I need time to process, heal, and figure out who I am in this new world of shadows and secrets. The conflict tears at me, a constant push and pull between desire and self-preservation.

With a deep breath, I nod my assent.

Her squeal of excitement makes me worry I’m going to regret this.

Tori immediately starts listing all the amenities of the spa, her words tumbling out in an enthusiastic rush. “They have these amazing mineral baths, personalized massage sessions, and even meditation classes. It’s the perfect place to unwind and just… be.”

The idea of soaking in a mineral bath and letting the warmth and minerals ease away the tension sounds like heaven. “It does sound amazing,” I admit, beginning to imagine the tranquility.

She leans in closer, her eyes sparkling. “And think about it, Frankie. No distractions, no responsibilities, just you and me and all the time in the world to figure things out.”

I nod, feeling a little of her excitement rubbing off on me. The idea of having a break from the constant stress, nightmares, and fear is incredibly tempting. “Alright, I’m in.”

Tori’s grin widens. “You won’t regret it, I promise. We’ll come back refreshed and ready to take on all the pack possibilities.”

I hope she’s right. As I take another sip of coffee, I let the warmth of the cup seep into my hands, grounding me. “Okay, tell me more about this place. What else can we do there?”

She launches into a detailed description of the spa’s offerings, from yoga classes at sunrise to gourmet meals prepared by renowned chefs. The more she talks, the more I start to believe that this might be exactly what I need—a chance to breathe, think, and heal.

A small spark of hope flickers in my chest. Maybe this trip will give me the clarity I need, and maybe it will help me find a way to move forward so I can decide what to do about the guys and all the secrets they kept.

As Tori’s excitement bubbles over, I get caught up in her enthusiasm. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m looking forward to something, but then, mid-laugh at one of Tori’s jokes, it hits me. A chill starts at the base of my spine and races up to my skull, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The kitchen suddenly feels colder and darker, and the shadows in the corners seem to deepen.

Just for a heartbeat, I see Valerie—tall, menacing, and with eyes that have haunted my nightmares for years.

I blink, and she’s gone, but the fear remains as a knot in my stomach and a tremor in my hands.

Tori’s voice fades to a distant hum as realization crashes over me. We can run and hide, but Valerie’s shadow will always linger, and something in my gut whispers a chilling truth—our time is running out.