9. Frankie

The same dreamthat haunts me night after night is vanquished by a sharp sting on my cheek. "Frankie, dammit, why won't you wake up?" Tori's voice, laced with urgency and frustration, cuts through the lingering fog of sleep and the odd, eerie whispers echoing from the shadows, like the distant cries of ghosts.

"You have five seconds to explain why you hit me before I destroy you," I grumble, my voice muffled by the pillow as I wiggle underneath it to avoid an escalation with my roommate. My words are heavy with the remnants of sleep and a lingering irritation that makes my tone more biting than intended.

Tori doesn't listen. Instead, she smacks me again, harder this time. "Girl, your alarm has been going off for ten minutes now. Turn it off." Her voice is sharp, a clear reflection of her annoyance.

I reach out blindly, swat at her hands, and finally grab the little clock on my bedside table. With a growl of frustration, I yank the damn thing out of the wall and toss it in Tori's general direction. The clock sails through the air with a satisfying swoosh before landing with a thud.

"Frankie, I'm just trying to make sure you don't miss the first day of classes," she grumbles, her voice softening slightly, revealing her concern underneath the stern facade.

Rude.

"I'm not going to miss class," I mumble defiantly, burying my head under the pillows, seeking refuge in their cool, soft embrace. I inhale deeply, the scent of lavender fabric softener mingling with the mustiness of old dorm room walls.

"Frankie, it's almost nine in the morning. You are going to miss class," Tori persists, her hand landing on my thigh with a slap that's both playful and insistent.

I toss the pillow off and glare at her, my eyes squinting as they adjust to the morning light that sneaks past our threadbare curtains. Tori looks impeccable, as if she stepped out of a fashion magazine for university chic. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her makeup is flawlessly applied. She probably got up at the crack of dawn to get ready.

Can't relate.

"Why do you care?" Knowing I won't be able to go back to sleep now, I slowly rise, blinking the sleep from my eyes, my body stiff from the uncomfortable dorm mattress.

With a huff and a grunt, she answers, "Because we're roommates, and I won't have a shitty student as a roommate on my watch." Her tone is both joking and serious, a strange mix that characterizes our odd friendship.

"Right," I drawl sarcastically. "My sleeping in to the last minute makes you look bad. Sure, that makes perfect sense. It's like your academic reputation is somehow tied to my sleep habits." My voice drips with sarcasm, a defense mechanism I've honed over the years.

"See? You aren't so stubborn that you don't get it." Her tone turns saccharine, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She's lucky I'm not awake.

"Go away," I grumble, my voice groggy as I pull my hair over one shoulder and begin braiding it absentmindedly. The repetitive motion is soothing.

Rolling her eyes, Tori grabs her book bag and stomps toward the door. She pauses at the threshold, her silhouette framed by the doorway, and then slams it behind her with a final grunt of disapproval. The sound echoes in the small room, a stark reminder of the day that awaits me.

I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the irritation bubbling inside me. The last two weeks flash through my mind—a blur of late nights, scrambling for textbooks, and dodging every familiar face on campus, especially Leo. The quiet had been a relief, his absence a respite as he was likely busy with rugby practices or whatever those players did together.

That thought alone sends my imagination running wild.

Running my hand down my face, I try to blink away the thought of a bunch of rugby players forming a circle jerk. I admit I did sneak around and watch them practice, but only once. I eavesdropped on Tori and the other cheerleaders gushing about Matteo and Leo, so I had to see for myself.

They claim Matteo's involvement in rugby always seemed more about guarding his friend than playing the game. I remember overhearing them talk about how he sees his role on the team as keeping everyone safe, a sentiment that seems to echo his approach to life.

Grabbing the door, I yank it open, only to be greeted by a smiling Leo, complete with dimples—and is that coffee he's holding?

"Coffee?" he offers, pushing a cup toward me with a playful smile. "Two sugars, just the way you like your humor."

"You've been stalking me," I declare as I accept the cup, because free coffee is free coffee. How on earth does he know how I take my coffee? "Or should I say, espresso-ly for me?" I quip, raising an eyebrow at him.

He taps his temple. "Nah, I just remember what you told me about the cup I spilled on you."

"So a freakishly good memory then," I observe, sipping the coffee, which is, of course, the perfect temperature. The warmth slowly spreads through me, battling the residual chill of the morning air and the unnerving sensation of being watched.

Peering behind him, I spot his friend, Matteo, the one who stalked me after work. I haven't seen them since that night, but just because I can't see them doesn't mean they aren't watching me. It's a lesson I've learned from the past. I sink my thumbs into the holes I cut in my sweater, a small act of comfort, and shift from foot to foot as Leo smiles down at me, his presence imposing yet oddly comforting.

What the hell does he want?

"Thank you?" I drawl the words out like a question, infused with a mixture of skepticism and a trace of curiosity. My voice trembles slightly, betraying my attempt at nonchalance.

Matteo snorts while Leo gives me a full-blown smile, apparently pleased with my response. "You're welcome. Can I walk you to class?"

"Psych." I yawn, my voice heavy with fatigue. I think I've slept a total of ten hours in the past two weeks, one of which was last night. The words are barely a whisper, lost in the early morning din of campus life.

"Matteo has psych." Leo turns to look at Matteo, whose dark eyes seem to peer right through me, piercing and intense.

Well, that's unnerving.

Matteo just jerks his head once in response. A man of few words. I don't hate that. They usually fuck the fastest and hardest.

"We're going to be late," he says, his voice dark and slightly gravelly, hinting at an urgency that seems to be about more than just class.

This entire situation is awkward. Never in all the years I've been here has anyone shown up at my dorm room to walk me to class.

"Right," I drawl, letting the door shut behind me with a soft click that seems to seal my fate for the day. Stepping around Leo, I begin to walk down the spiral staircase. Most of the students are as awake as they can be at nine in the morning, their steps echoing in the hollow space, a symphony of the daily grind.

"What's your major?" Leo asks, his tone casual, trying to pierce the veil of awkwardness that hangs between us.

It's an innocent enough question that I don't hesitate to answer. "Security. Cybersecurity." I sip my coffee again, the bitter warmth a stark contrast to the crisp morning air.

"Coming from the girl with no phone," he jokes, bumping my shoulder lightly, a touch that sends a surprisingly pleasant jolt through me.

"That's exactly why I don't have a phone," I respond, smiling at the irony. The truth is, everything can be hacked. Everything. No matter the device. No one is safe, and I don't need anyone knowing my secrets. The less I have, the safer I am.

"Not even a burner?" he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity, attempting to make small talk as we step out into the courtyard.

It's too damn early for small talk.

"Not even a burner."

He grunts in response. The sun is already bright, casting long shadows across the brick paths, but there's a chill rolling off the ocean, sweeping around my legs.

"What's your schedule like today?" Leo asks, his voice carrying over the chatter of other students and the distant calls of birds.

"Ah…" I honestly only know what class I have first. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the small piece of paper that I've folded a hundred times. "Psych with Professor Blackwood, then network security before rounding out the day with discrete math."

Matteo whistles behind me, a sound that feels oddly like approval. I look over my shoulder at him to find his dark eyes on me. It's almost unsettling, as though he's reading me like a book. Turning back around, I see Leo smiling down at me, his expression open and inviting.

"I'm an environmental science major." He gestures at a far building I've only ever been in a few times. The science building. Well, to be more specific, the labs. Shadow Locke has a different building for those just-in-case moments where a student tries to blow something up. "Have lunch with me," he blurts, pausing on the walkway.

"Lunch," I parrot, because listen, it's too damn early, and I am not firing on all cylinders yet. It's going to take me until at least noon to wake up, and by then, I'll already be two classes deep.

"Yeah, lunch. You know, that thing people do when the sun is at its highest peak in the sky?" He winks at me, and I can't decide if he's trying to make a joke or not.

See, not awake yet, which is probably why I say, "Yeah, sure."

Those dimples pop out. "Perfect, I'll meet you right here at twelve."

Shaking my head, I turn toward my building, my little entourage following me closely. I don't say much, but I notice students staring at me, their eyes looking from me to the guys at my back.

"For fuck's sake." I step off the path and turn to them. My voice is sharp, slicing through the early morning air as crisp as the breeze that toys with the edges of my sweater. "I'm good. You two can go now."

Raising a brow, Leo sips his coffee. He glances at Matteo once before he turns back to me. I bet it's full of cream and sugar. "Anyway," he drawls, his tone smooth and unruffled, a stark contrast to my clipped irritation. "So, Frankie, have you always been into cybersecurity?" Leo asks, his curiosity apparent, completely ignoring my statement.

Rolling my eyes, I adjust my backpack on my shoulder, scanning the morning crowd. I'm enveloped by the hustle of students, their laughter and chatter blending into a cacophony that feels a world away from the isolation of my thoughts. I begin to walk again, feeling as though the entire moment is too surreal to acknowledge. Maybe I'm still dreaming.

No, I'm not, because I'm here at Shadow Locke and not in my foster family's home or anywhere else for that matter—not to mention Bishop is nowhere near me.

"Yeah, sort of fell into it actually. Started with puzzles, then coding, then hacking. Ethically, of course," I add with a small smile because that's a lie—one he buys easily. The truth is, I got into it to cover my ass. I didn't do it because I wanted to. I did it because it was necessary for survival and to erase my first foster father from this earth. I have no regrets.

Matteo's eyebrows rise in amusement, his first real expression of the morning. It's subtle but genuine, a flicker of intrigue in his usually stoic demeanor.

"What about you, Matteo? Environmental science seems like a leap from rugby." I turn my attention to the quieter of the two. He looks at me, his head tilted to the side, and I wonder briefly if he knows I just lied.

Impossible.

Matteo shrugs. "I like being outside, and there's a strategy to it, understanding ecosystems and predicting changes. It's not that different from sports, really. You're just playing a long game against nature." His voice is calm and pensive, mirroring the patience of someone accustomed to observing the slow growth of the natural world.

Surprise flickers through me. That's the most he's said to me since I met him. Granted, I avoided them for two weeks straight.

Leo laughs. "He's being modest. He interned with a major conservation project last summer and helped reintroduce a species of frogs back into their natural habitat." Leo's pride in his friend's accomplishments is palpable, adding a warmth to his voice that makes him seem more approachable.

"That's impressive," I admit, my curiosity piqued as I glance at Matteo, who just nods, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

As we approach the large, imposing doors of the psychology building, Leo steers the conversation back to me. "So no phone at all? How do you manage your social life?"

I snort. "What social life? Between classes and avoiding people like I was in witness protection, it's pretty quiet, but I like it that way. Safer, less drama."

Less chance of anyone discovering my secrets.

Leo nods, understanding my need for privacy, while Matteo seems to ponder my words, perhaps recognizing the weight behind them.

"Anyway," I continue, "today's just about surviving until lunch. Speaking of, what's on the menu for this environmental science major's lunch plan?"

Leo's eyes twinkle with mischief. "Something that doesn't involve frogs, I promise, but it's a surprise. Trust me, it's good."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow but smile. "I'll hold you to that then."

As we reach the classroom, with students milling around and chatter rising all around us, a thrill of the start of the year zings through my veins.

"See you at twelve then," Leo says as he backs away, the promise of lunch still hanging between us.

"Yeah, see you," I reply, a hint of anticipation coloring my tone. As I watch him walk away, I can't help but feel that maybe this day won't be as tedious as I expected—until Matteo turns to me, his dark eyes boring into mine.

"You lied to him."

"You see too much," I retort, intent on heading into the classroom, but I feel Matteo following closely behind. His presence at my back isn't unwelcome, but it's something I feel down to my toes. His quiet understanding, like a shadow, is both comforting and unnerving, adding a layer of complexity that is all Matteo.

As we approach the classroom, the corridor is thick with students, bustling and pushing past one another in their rush. Amid this chaos, I feel a sudden jostle. A shoulder digs sharply into mine, nearly knocking me off balance—it's the second time this has happened, but this shock sends a surge of adrenaline through me. Before I can regain my footing, Matteo reacts. His movements are a blur of controlled aggression, his face a mask of contained fury. The guy who bumped into me is suddenly pinned against the wall, Matteo's arm pressed menacingly against his throat.

"Matteo!" I exclaim, my heart pounding as memories of past confrontations flash through my mind. The halls echo with the sudden silence that follows the confrontation, as if the entire building has taken a collective breath. Matteo's eyes flick to mine, a storm of conflict in them. I've seen this protective ferocity before—the last time someone threatened me at the bar, Matteo had been there too, only then he watched from across the room.

He doesn't let go, only stares at me. The busy hall freezes.

I never forget a face. I study faces out of survival, and the one turning bright red is the same guy who bumped into me when I stood outside the tower two weeks ago. Only this time, he's snarling at Matteo, who has him pinned against the wall. His forearm presses against his throat, cutting off his air.

Matteo just stares back at him with murder in his eyes.

"Man, what the fuck?" Another guy, just as big as Matteo and Leo, places a hand on Matteo's arm, but I don't think he can even hear him. "Let him go before you take him out."

Matteo only grunts.

A part of me is absolutely fascinated. Did he do that because this guy ran into me? Just how far will he take it?

Would he kill him? Snuff out his life just because he jostled me? Why does that send a tingle of warmth fluttering through me? Why do I love the violent look in his eyes?

"Alright, what's going on out here?" a voice calls out.

Matteo doesn't move. His eyes continue to bore into the guy, and I can see the moment he begins to lose consciousness.

I want to watch him fall.

"Matteo," another voice calls out as a man presses on his arm. "Let Joey go," he says with a hint of amusement. He's dressed like a professor would be—tweed jacket, jeans, and glasses that perch on the tip of his nose.

Matteo tilts his head to the side, studying the guy named Joey, then with a cruel smile, he pulls back, letting him drop to the floor.

"Save it for the field." He claps once. "Alright, everyone, get to class. Let's go."

I don't move. I stand there, my eyes glued to Joey who's unconscious on the floor. No one moves to help him. In fact, they let him lie there. I wonder if he will bother me again or if he will leave me alone.

"No one will hurt you." Matteo's voice is so soft I almost don't hear it.

My head jerks up, and my stomach twists. "Don't make promises you can't keep," I snap at him and go to step around him.

Matteo grabs my bicep, tugging me close, too damn close, and somehow, I don't react as he touches me. He's close enough that I can smell his scent—cinnamon and cloves.

"Again," he whispers close enough that his breath gusts over my ear. "No one will hurt you again." His dark eyes stare into mine, peering through my soul, reading me in ways no one ever has before.

I jerk out of his hold. "I don't need you to protect me." By now, everyone is in the classroom, leaving us alone out here with the unconscious kid.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, his eyes darkening to a near black, a chilling smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Even precious gems shatter under the right amount of pressure." His words hang in the air, heavy with an ominous promise, as a shadow seems to flicker at his back—a shadow that wasn't there a moment ago.

"Let's go!" the professor shouts from the door, shocking me out of the moment.

With my brows furrowed, I turn away and walk through the door, taking a seat at the very back. Matteo follows me in, sitting right beside me.

I guess he isn't about to leave me alone, at least not this early in the morning.