20. Bishop

She isn'tmine and never will be.

I guaranteed that with choices I now regret, letting raw emotion lead me astray.

I know better.

Here I am, however, enveloped by the velvet night, watching helplessly as Frankie steps out of her Jeep, flanked by Leo and Matteo—two individuals I didn't see coming.

That's fate, isn't it? Weaving a web full of bullshit and lies. I'm not perfect. I never claimed to be.

Hurting her assured my imperfection, and yet, I had to.

Her voice echoes in my mind, insisting there is always a choice. She's wrong. There was no choice for me—not then, not now. At Shadow Locke, my hands are tied by ancient laws until she awakens.

I'm forbidden to directly interfere with her awakening, but despite the agony it causes me, I find ways to subtly influence the process.

She's so damn independent, choosing to push everyone around her away. She's both blind and overly aware. It's a paradox that even to this day leaves me scratching my head.

Pushing off the wall where I hide from the three who just disappeared into the tower, I turn around and face the ocean. The moonlight dances on the water's surface, casting silvery streaks that break through the darkness. It's beautiful here, and it's been my home for longer than I could ever remember.

Aside from the last couple of years, I grew up here, on this very island. I took my very first steps of freedom in the courtyard right where I am now, after my adoption. I learned to ride my bike on the bridge that leads in and out under the watchful eyes of Officer Hart, and I found my first love here.

Pushing all of my thoughts aside, I slip into the shadows, allowing them to swallow me whole.

Humans gaze at their shadow, seeing blackness formed by their bodies blocking light, but some of us?

Some of us are born in the shadows. We rise from them, and we slip into them.

Lore has given us many names.

Djinn.

Demons.

Ghouls.

Shades.

Wraiths.

The list goes on and on. We are none of these. We are human, and we are shadows, but more than that, we alone have the ability to slip into a shadow and move from one to the next.

It's disorienting at first, walking a straight line and then choosing to enter the shadow veil. As my shoes crunch on gravel, I do just that.

My body falls forward, my face heading toward the pavement at a rapid pace, and then I slip. As my body continues to move, darkness engulfs my vision, and then I'm past the veil where I enter the true Shadow Locke University.

Just as it is in the world of humans, it stands as a stronghold on an island just off the coast of the States.

The ocean sits before me in complete stillness. No stars twinkle in the sky. No owls hoot and no bugs chirp. The world sits in utter silence.

The biggest difference, however, are the shadows that roam free.

We are the shadows. It's something I know Frankie is going to have a hard time understanding. In her mind, she believes she's alone, but she isn't. Unfortunately, until she slips through the veil, there is nothing I can do or say to her.

I'm bound by the law set upon us all eons ago. Even if I wanted to tell her, I can't.

The moon's light dims. Looking up, I see a large, black body in the shape of a dragon dive for the island. This is who and what we are.

Shadow shifters.

It's a world set inside another—one that is dying.

The large, black dragon morphs into a man who lands in a crouch at the center of the courtyard. He is but one of the few out here. Many are fast asleep through the veil, waiting to wake for tomorrow's classes.

The rest of us don't sleep.

The shadow looks up at me, his ice-cold eyes piercing as he takes me in and slowly rises. "What?" he questions harshly, not that it isn't deserved.

"I want to speak with you," I call out, my steps quickening as I try to close the distance between us. Dorian, sensing my approach, flips his hair off his forehead with a defiant gesture and pivots sharply, striding away with the intent to avoid the conversation.

"Dorian." I run to catch up with him. "Stop."

"No," he mutters.

Annoyed at him, I grab his bicep and turn him around.

One brow rises in challenge, and he looks pointedly at where I grip his bicep.

"For fuck's sake, Dorian. We need to speak," I state firmly.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you." He sniffs at me, crossing his arms. One long finger taps his bicep where I grabbed him.

"Well, that's unfortunate because I have plenty to say to you." Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Both of us look out to the horizon, where red lightning jumps from one cloud to another before a crack reverberates.

"Make it quick," he mutters, giving in. The lightning had perfect timing.

"Frankie."

"No." He turns around and begins to walk in the opposite direction again. This time, he's heading for the tower.

"Dammit, Dorian, would you just listen to me?" I toss my words at his back like barbs just as the world crackles and rumbles. The ground beneath us shakes, and the horizon ripples.

He pauses, whether to hear me out or wait out the earthquake, I don't know, but I take my chance.

"We need her." I cut right to the chase. "She is our core."

Dorian drops his head back to gaze at the sky before turning around. "She is not my core."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's past time you chose a pack." I step toward him. I knew my reason for coming back to Shadow Locke wouldn't be easy, but I had to try.

Packs are failing, our world is dying, and no one has an answer.

All I know is that at the end of the day, if we are all to die, then I want it to be in the arms of my pack, and I will do anything to bring us together.

I didn't know who would become a part of my pack years ago, only that they weren't here yet, so I left.

I can feel them, each of them calling to me, and as I near Dorian, I feel our energy humming, yearning for the bond they deny. I need him to accept us and help me build our pack.

Dorian's laughter rolls across the island, his head shaking in disbelief. "You're a fool, Bishop. A pack?" He laughs again, only it's humorless and full of spite. "You want to build a pack with her as the core? You are a fool."

"Why?" I stand my ground because no matter what, I will bring the five of us together, even if it takes my last breath. "Why am I a fool for wanting what all of our kind has?"

"Our kind doesn't rely on packs anymore, Bishop. The old ways have failed us," Dorian argues, gesturing broadly to emphasize his point. "Look around you! The bonds that once held us together are slipping, weakening with each generation. They aren't just failing to form, they are actively decaying. How can you not see that?"

"You truly believe it's pointless?" I suck on my cheek. When did he become so pessimistic?

"You may have forgotten, but my family has been cursed for generations," Dorian snaps, his voice laced with bitterness. "Every attempt to break it has ended in tragedy. My time is running out, Bishop. With each passing day, the world grows closer to ruin, and I must break this curse before it claims us. That's why I can't afford the distraction of your idealistic visions."

I nearly roll my eyes at the mention of his curse. "Your ancestors haven't broken it. What makes you believe you will?"

I wince at my harsh tone. As soon as the words leave my lips, I wish I could take them back. I can't lose Dorian. We need him just as much as we need Frankie.

Well, I need him.

His jaw tightens, and his lip curls at me. "I suggest you enjoy your last days at Shadow Locke, Bishop Mercer." He goes to turn around but pauses, glancing at the moon above. "And leave me the hell alone."

He walks off, leaving me alone in the courtyard.

Fuck.

Another rumble ripples through the world, this one less powerful than the last but no less purposeful. Frustrated with Dorian's obstinance, I invoke the ancient rite, feeling the familiar pull at my core as I transition back to the human realm. The change is instantaneous yet disorienting. I find myself standing in the same courtyard, but now surrounded by the gentle sounds of the human world.

"Bishop!"

Cursing under my breath, I turn to see Tori walking over from the parking lot, two of her friends flanking her. Her eyes light up when I look at her.

"Hey, you." She steps close, laying a palm on my chest. It feels wrong, so damn wrong, and it makes my blood boil.

This is my mother's doing. In an attempt to save our world, she began pushing packs together, hoping they'd form bonds. She's a fool. Unless it's organic, the bonds will never stick.

Victoria is her attempt to push me toward a core—a female who binds the men together. She is the glue that keeps the pack together, but I feel nothing for Tori despite my mother's wishes.

If only I could get the others on board, and then we could work on Frankie together, and help her access the veil and her full potential, but she hasn't, not yet, and my mother grew tired of waiting.

"Tori." I grip her hands, pulling them from my chest.

"I'm glad I found you. What are your plans for the eclipse?" She breaks free of my hold, only to reach out and sweep hair off my forehead.

The eclipse. It's months away, and usually one of the best nights of a shadow shifter's life, where the veil thins and our power surges. Usually, we can't shift in the human world, but on the night of the lunar eclipse, we are free to be who we are.

This eclipse, however, has an ominous vibe that only I seem to feel. It's like a ticking clock counting down the hours until our world frays and dies.

I don't have a clue how to save it, but I know who I want to spend that time with, and it isn't Tori.

"I have plans with the guys," I deflect. It isn't an outright lie, but it isn't the truth either.

She pouts. "Will you guys come to the cove?" She looks back at Chloe and Amanda. "We are going to have a small bonfire."

I snort. Small, my ass.

"None of your parties are ever small, Tori." She always invites the entire school.

She shrugs like it isn't a big deal, and I guess it isn't because college is good for at least one thing, and that's parties. I know I've spent more than enough mornings waking up hungover on the beach.

"Besides, I'd love to spend time with my future pack." She blinks up at me.

A pack that wants nothing to do with becoming a pack, aside from Leo and Matteo. No, we aren't a pack, not yet. I need something to throw all of us together. I can't figure out what that is, but I will.

"You girls should get to bed." I take a step back, hoping she gets the hint.

She doesn't. "Go ahead, girls, I'll catch up." She fucking winks at them.

"You too, Tori. Don't forget I can write you up," I warn her.

"You won't because I'm your future mate," she purrs, shadows swirling in her eyes.

She isn't my mate, and she will never be. Hell, I was just balls deep in Frankie days ago.

"Go to bed, Victoria." To get her out of my hair, I tack on, "We will stop by the bonfire."

Excitement ripples through her, and she kisses my cheek before spinning around and taking off.

I feel like all I'm doing is dodging bullets and making no progress forward.

Tomorrow, the die will be cast. Everything must change.

It's not just a necessity—it's survival.

As I watch Tori's retreating figure blending into the semi-darkness with a grace that's both alluring and infuriating, a cold wind brushes against my face, as if to remind me of the encroaching chill of our dying world. The air feels heavy, laden with unspoken promises and looming threats, mirroring the turmoil that churns within me.

Turning away, I look up at the moon, its surface marred by the shadows that seem to play across its face, reminding me of the fractures in our own realm. It's a glaring testament to the fissures within my own soul, pulled between duty and desire, leadership and longing.

The distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore attempts to soothe my restless spirit, but tonight, the rhythmic cadence seems more like a mournful lament for what might soon be lost. The night air, usually a cloak of comfort, now feels like the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders.

Every step I take toward the solitude of my quarters is heavy with the burden of impending choices, the alliances that need forging, and the bonds that need mending. The silence of the night provides a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me, each step a reminder of the solitary path I must tread.

In the silence, my thoughts turn once again to Frankie, her fierce independence, and her unwillingness to bend. I see a spark in her that our world needs, the fiery core that could either save us or lead us farther into darkness. It's a gamble, but one I'm willing to stake everything on.

Tomorrow will be the catalyst. Whether it brings salvation or damnation, I can't say, but change is essential, and I will be the one to ignite it. As the cool breeze turns colder, I pull my jacket tighter around me, a makeshift armor against the uncertainties of the night, and then I walk on, determined and resolute under the watchful gaze of the moon.