37. Frankie

Something is coming.I feel it in the pit of my stomach, churning like stormy waves crashing against the shore. Today is the meeting with Professor Blackwood and Dorian, but I can't move from my bed, my gaze locked on the storm clouds gathering over the coast.

Tonight is the lunar eclipse, a celestial event that feels like a Damoclean sword hanging over me.

This isn't just paranoia—it's a sense of an impending catastrophe that I can't shake.

I haven't slept.

I haven't eaten.

More than anything, I need Leo to show up with a cup of coffee, but he's missing, and so is Matteo.

Their absence gnaws at me, feeding the anxiety twisting in my gut. Something terrible is about to happen, and I'm powerless to stop it.

Why does their absence bother me so much?

It shouldn't. It doesn't.

Fuck, it really does.

Dropping my head into my hands, I nearly scrape my fingernails down my face.

I'm late.

Move.

I can't.

A dark shadow moves past the window, and I jerk up, my heart hammering in my chest as I look out the window.

Clouds, it's just clouds.

Can I just… skip the meeting? No.

Failure is not an option. If I fail, then I'll lose my scholarship, and I can't let that happen. My entire life depends on me graduating and doing something with my life. I just need to do it.

Get up.

I don't. My thoughts swirl and swirl.

My shadow stretches across the room, morphing into the familiar form of a shadow wolf with glowing red eyes. A soft whine escapes her, a sound that resonates with the turmoil within me. As she nudges my hand and rests her head in my lap, I feel a connection to her, as if we are one and the same.

I still haven't named her.

I run my fingers through her fur, which feels startlingly real and comforting. Her watchful eyes reflect the same restless energy that courses through me, a silent reminder that the supernatural is inextricably linked to the chaos of this night.

The wolf's presence comforts me, but it doesn't quell the anxiety gnawing at me. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stand. My legs feel shaky, but the wolf nudges me gently, her eyes full of silent encouragement.

"Okay, okay," I mutter, feeling foolish for talking to a shadow wolf, but what's considered foolish anymore? After everything I've seen, what's one more leap into the unknown?

I pace the room, my thoughts returning to the game. That moment seemed like a hallucination, a trick of the mind, but now it feels undeniably real. The wolf I saw then was just like this one—red eyes, dark fur, an otherworldly presence. It wasn't a figment of my imagination.

It was real.

The realization crashes over me, sending a shiver down my spine. If that was real, then what else have I been dismissing? What other truths have I been too scared to accept?

I sink back onto the bed, the wolf settling beside me. Her warmth seeps into my skin, grounding me in the present. I continue to stroke her fur, finding solace in the repetitive motion.

"I saw you," I whisper. "At the game. You were there."

Well, not her exactly, but a bigger, darker, more disturbing version of her.

The wolf's eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I swear she understands. There's an intelligence in her gaze that reassures me I'm not crazy.

The knot in my stomach loosens just a fraction, enough to remind me that I have a meeting to get to and a life to fight for. With one last stroke of the wolf's fur, I stand, determination hardening my resolve.

A knock on the door startles me, jolting me back to the present, and my heart leaps into my throat.

"Come in," I call, my voice steadier than I feel as I reach down and grab my backpack. The door creaks open, and I brace myself for whatever—or whoever—is on the other side.

Just as it opens, my wolf sinks into the floor, disappearing.

Matteo leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes scanning the room before they settle on me. There's a gravity in his expression that pulls me in, making the room feel smaller. The scent of rain and earth clings to him, mingling with the lingering scent of my wolf, making me hyperaware of his presence.

"I figured you could use some company," he says, his tone gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument.

"How did you know?" I ask, trying to mask the surprise in my voice.

"You skipped class," he says calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I bite my lip, mentally chastising myself. Skipping class was a bad move, but my final paper was already submitted. "Right, okay," I murmur, forcing a smile. I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder, following Matteo out of my room.

Honestly, Professor Blackwood gives me the creeps, and he is the last person I want to talk to, but it's the last meeting before winter break.

The corridors are quiet, students tucked away in their rooms or packing up to spend time at home for the holidays. The storm outside mirrors the turbulence inside me, but Matteo's steady presence is a welcome distraction. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzes above us, and the scent of rain wafts in through the slightly open windows, adding to the sense of unease.

"So, Matteo," I begin, trying to break the silence, "I realized I don't know much about you. Where are you from?"

"India," he replies, his voice steady. "My parents are traditional. I'm their only child."

"Traditional?" I echo, my curiosity piqued. "What does that mean for you?"

"It means a lot of expectations," Matteo says, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I was always expected to excel and uphold the family name. There's a lot of pressure."

"Sounds tough," I say, empathizing with the weight of his words. "Did you always want to study here?"

He nods, his expression thoughtful. "Yes. Coming here was a way to prove myself and show that I could succeed on my own terms."

We walk in silence for a few moments, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway. The storm rages outside, but inside, I feel a growing sense of calmness. Matteo's honesty is refreshing, and I want to know more. The soft patter of rain against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder provide a backdrop to our conversation, adding a layer of intimacy to our exchange.

"What about your family?" I ask. "Do you miss them?"

"Of course," Matteo says, his tone softening. "But they are proud of me. They understand why I had to come here."

His openness is disarming, and I realize how little I've scratched the surface of who he really is. "What's it like being an only child?" I ask, genuinely curious. I feel like we can relate on being alone.

At least I think I'm an only child. It's hard to think that I might have a sibling that my parents dropped at a different orphanage, but I give the people I don't know the benefit of the doubt, because that's just a shitty thing to do.

"Lonely sometimes," he admits, "but it also means I'm very close to my parents. They've always been there for me, supporting me."

I nod, absorbing his words. "Do they know about... everything that's been happening here?"

Am I being pushy? Maybe a little, but now that I know my shadows aren't just hallucinations or my imagination, I want to know more. Well, maybe a little. Just not completely.

Fuck, I'm a mess.

Matteo's eyes darken slightly, a shadow passing over his face. "They know enough. I didn't want to worry them too much."

I glance at him, sensing there's more he's not saying, but I don't push. Instead, I change the subject. "What do you like to do when you're not buried in books and assignments?"

A genuine smile breaks across his face. "I enjoy playing the drums. It's a way to unwind and let out stress."

I blink, surprised. "Really? I never would have guessed."

The image of Matteo behind a drum set, completely in his element, flashes in my mind. It's an unexpected and intriguing fact about him. I can almost hear the beats and feel the vibrations.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Frankie," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing. "Clearly. I'll have to ask you more often."

We reach the end of the corridor, and Matteo holds the door open for me. The wind howls outside, but inside, the warmth of our conversation lingers. I hesitate, not wanting to go outside, but I do, and luckily, it isn't raining yet. The smell of ozone hangs heavily in the air, an electric charge that prickles my skin.

"What about you?" Matteo asks as we step into the next building. "What do you do to unwind?"

"Jogging," I say without hesitation. "It's my escape, my way of making sense of the world."

Matteo nods, his expression understanding. "I'd love to jog with you someday."

A blush creeps up my cheeks, and I duck my head. "Maybe one day."

As we approach Professor Blackwood's office, a sense of dread settles over me again. The walls seem to close in, the shadows darker and more oppressive, but Matteo's presence is a reminder that I'm not facing this alone. He stops just outside the door, turning to face me.

"Thank you for walking with me," I say sincerely.

"Anytime," he replies, his eyes locking onto mine. "I'll see you later."

With one last look at him, I take a deep breath and knock on the door, bracing myself for this pointless meeting. I asked Tori, and she didn't have to deal with him, so I'm not sure why I need to. A part of me yearns to turn around and just ask Matteo to stay with me, but instead, I bite my tongue and face the door.

The door swings open, revealing Professor Blackwood with his fake smile pasted on his face. There is something about him that feels wrong, and his eyes have a strange glimmer to them that sets me on edge.

"Ah, Ms. Vale. Right on time," Professor Blackwood says, his voice dripping with a saccharine quality that makes my skin crawl. "Come in, come in."

Why does it smell like mothballs in here?

I step inside, my eyes immediately finding Dorian. He's seated in a chair, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp and focused. Despite our antagonistic relationship, there's something about his presence that feels grounding, even if it's just the familiarity of our friction.

"Take a seat beside Mr. Gray," Blackwood instructs, gesturing to the empty chair beside Dorian.

I do as I'm told, sitting down and placing my backpack on the floor beside me. Dorian gives me a curt nod, his expression unreadable. We've spent countless lunches together, exchanging barbs and veiled insults, but right now, he feels like an ally in this twisted game.

"Now, Ms. Vale," Blackwood begins, settling behind his desk and folding his hands in front of him. "I've been reviewing your latest paper. Quite a fascinating read, though I must say, some of your theories are... ambitious."

There it is, the first of many backhanded compliments. I clench my hands in my lap, willing myself to stay calm.

"Thank you, Professor," I say evenly. "I appreciate your feedback."

His eyes gleam with something like amusement. "Oh, don't get me wrong. Ambition is not inherently a flaw. However, it can lead to... missteps. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Gray?"

Dorian's jaw tightens, but he nods. "Absolutely, Professor. Ambition needs to be tempered with caution."

Blackwood's gaze shifts back to me. "Precisely. Ms. Vale, I hope you understand that while your enthusiasm is commendable, it's also important to remain grounded in reality."

I force a smile. "Of course, Professor. I'll keep that in mind."

"Good, good," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Now, let's discuss your thesis. I expect it will require a great deal of... emotional investment from you."

His words are loaded, the implication clear. He wants to see me crack, and I have yet to figure out why he is so damn pushy, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"I'm prepared for that," I reply, keeping my voice steady. Besides, I'm close to finishing it, just tweaking it for my senior year.

Blackwood's smile widens, but there's no warmth in it. The artificial light from his desk lamp casts harsh shadows on his face, accentuating the coldness in his eyes. "We shall see. Tell me, how have you been managing your time? Balancing your studies with your... extracurricular activities?"

The question is innocent enough on the surface, but there's an undercurrent of accusation. He's looking for a weakness.

"I've been managing well," I say, lifting my chin. "It's been challenging, but I'm committed to my work."

"Indeed," he murmurs, his eyes narrowing. "Commitment is key, but remember, Ms. Vale, there's a fine line between commitment and obsession. Don't let one consume the other."

I swallow hard, feeling the pressure of his scrutiny. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. "I understand, Professor."

He leans forward, his expression turning predatory. "Do you? Sometimes, I think you might be pushing yourself too hard. What do you think, Mr. Gray?"

Dorian glances at me before he answers, "I believe Frankie knows her limits. She's demonstrated incredible resilience."

His words surprise me, a rare compliment buried in the midst of our usual antagonism. I glance at him, but he's looking at Blackwood, his expression unreadable.

"Resilience, yes," Blackwood says softly. "But even the strongest steel can break under enough pressure."

Wait, Matteo said something similar to me…

There's a loaded silence, the air thick with unspoken challenges. I meet Blackwood's gaze head-on, refusing to back down. The faint ticking of a clock on the wall is the only sound, amplifying the tension in the room.

"Thank you for your concern, Professor. I'll keep it in mind."

"Perfect." His eyes gleam. "Now, do you have plans for the eclipse?"

Nerves rush over me, and I don't know why, but it's in that exact moment I realize how many people have asked me about this damn eclipse.

Everyone. Literally everyone.

My stomach clenches, and I give him a curt nod.

"What are they?" He leans forward on his desk, his eyes curious.

Is this an appropriate question?

"Just going to spend time with friends." I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"Oh, wonderful." He looks at Dorian. "I am guessing you two are going to have a fabulous date."

We both sit forward at the same time. "What?" I shriek.

"Yes, yes, enjoy yourselves." He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then nods. "Very well. That will be all for now. You're dismissed."

I rise from my seat, feeling Dorian's eyes on me as I gather my things. When I turn to leave, Blackwood's voice stops me.

"Ms. Vale, remember what I said. Ambition is a double-edged sword. Don't let it cut you."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and walk out of the office with Dorian close on my heels. As the door closes behind us, I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly, but a residual tightness lingers.

"You don't have to come with me," I blurt as soon as the lock clicks into place.

He sighs, staring over my head. I turn around, but there's nothing there. "It is what it is." He looks down at me. "I assume you will be at the Grotto?"

"Yeah." I chew on my cheek and adjust my shoulder strap.

"Fine, I'll see you there at seven," he says and pushes past me.

Wonderful. All I wanted was to sneak away, and now I have somehow entwined myself with multiple people. Frustration bubbles up inside me, but I suppress it, knowing that tonight is bound to be complicated.