Page 11 of Shadowed Whispers

“Oh yes.” He focuses entirely on me, and it makes my legs itch to run. It’s been a long three months since I’ve been able to run the perimeter of the island. “The cove where the stars reflect in the water.” He’s serious.

“Well, Leo, you’ll just have to find me one of these nights.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

“Welcome to Shadow Locke.” The words feel inadequate for the swirl of emotions bubbling inside me. I turn to leave, each step away from Leo feeling heavier than the last. His presence behind me is almost a tangible force, compelling yet something I consciously resist acknowledging. My heart beats a frantic rhythm, betraying my outward composure.

All the way out, his gaze lingers on me like a touch I can feel, enveloping me in a warmth I didn’t realize I craved until now. A battle rages within me. Part of me yearns to turn back, to see if what I felt in those few moments was mirrored in his eyes, while another part steels myself against the vulnerability such an action would reveal.

I force my feet to move, telling myself it’s the right thing to do, yet with each step, I can’t shake the sense that I’m walking away from more than just a person—I’m leaving behind a possibility, a what-if that’s as intriguing as it is frightening. The logical part of my brain catalogs this as just another encounter, but my heart whispers of missed connections and paths that might converge again.

“Goodbye, Leo,” I whisper under my breath, a farewell he won’t hear but one that marks the significance of this encounter. The doorway to the outside world feels like a threshold between two realities—one where Leo Calderwood is a curious footnote in my day, and another where he might be the start of a story I hadn’t planned on writing.

Stepping into the sunlight, I allow myself one last indulgence—a glance back through the glass doors. The cafeteria, now a backdrop to a day that suddenly feels charged with new meaning, blurs before my eyes. I don’t need to see him to feel the connection, brief yet undisputable.

As I walk away, the echo of his voice, the warmth of his gaze, and the promise of adventures yet shared haunt my steps. Shadow Locke, with all its mysteries, has just presented me with the most compelling one yet.

Chapter 4

Frankie

The tower is located at the edge of the island, overlooking a cliff where waves don’t just crash against the rocks, they assault them, gradually eroding the surface. The relentless pounding creates a symphony of nature’s fury that echoes around me. Standing at the base of the tower, I hear the fierce waves crashing and the seagulls squawking at the fish and other gulls. Hell, I can taste the salt in the air. Connecticut is vastly different from Arizona in so many ways. These are just a few, not to mention the humidity. Fuck the humidity. I could live without it, its dampness clinging to my skin like a second, unwanted layer.

As I adjust the straps of my threadbare canvas book bag, a sharp jostle from a passerby sends it slipping down my arm, a sudden reminder of this morning’s coffee fiasco—thankfully, this collision is less disastrous.

“Whoa,” a voice says nearby, tinged with mockery rather than apology. The laughter that follows isn’t warm. It’s cold and edged with privilege and a sense of belonging that leaves no room for an outsider like me. As I step aside to let a group of barefoot jocks pass, a spark of irritation ignites within me. They don’t spare me a glance, but I memorize their faces, each expression of disdain and mockery etched into my memory.

Oh, look, my advisor would be so proud of me for my self-control.

Taking a deep breath of salty air tinged with the faint scent of seaweed, I use my card to enter the tower, my stomach fluttering with nerves. As the light switches from red to green and the door unlocks, I step inside.

The tower is circular. I don’t know why I assumed the first floor wouldn’t be circular, but it is, and my jaw drops to the floor. Without putting too much thought into it, I step to the side, gazing around me in stunned silence.

Breathtaking.

The tower reveals unexpected secrets. The circular first floor, contrary to any conventional building logic, opens up into a grand common area. The ancient stone walls, interspersed with modern amenities like a large screen television and a crescent-shaped black couch, tell stories of old merged with the new. The kitchen boasts industrial-grade appliances, and vending machines hum softly nearby, filled with snacks and drinks. A small store and a wall of post office boxes add to the collegiate oasis.

I ascend the stairs, and I’m greeted by the architectural boldness of the tower. Two staircases spiral to the second floor, their paths diverging and converging like the plotlines of the tales we’ll all tell one day. The openness is breathtaking, a vertical panorama stretching up to a distant ceiling. The wasted space might be impractical, but its effect is undeniably majestic.

Students look down from the railings far above, their laughter echoing down. Some wheel their suitcases in, their gasp of surprise one I feel in my soul.

With my bag and my keys clenched in my hand, I make my way to the nearest stairs and head to the second floor. From here, there are no more stairs, just one long loop to the top, with dorms all along the edge of the tower, the numbers starting at one.

Ever so slowly, I begin to make my way to my room. I don’t even know if these are private rooms. I do know that senior rooms are private, and freshmen and sophomores are not.

As I make my way around the first loop, I find the first bathroom and rush inside, clutching my bag to my chest. As soon as I walk in, disappointment floods me. I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but a typical dorm bathroom wasn’t it.

I use the bathroom as quickly as I can and head out, noting that the next set starts with ten. There is another bathroom at twenty and then, at thirty, my room.

I face the door, my stomach a bundle of nerves as I reach for the already open room.

Open.

The irritation I felt moments ago with the jocks pales in comparison to the dread that now settles in my stomach. Taking a moment, I steel myself by drawing in a deep breath of salty air, letting it fortify me. I need all the strength I can muster to face what’s inside.

With a resigned sigh, I push the door farther open, bracing myself for the confrontation I know is inevitable. The sight that greets me is exactly as I feared, yet I’m determined not to let it show. Tori and her entourage occupy the space that’s supposed to be my sanctuary, turning it into a battlefield of wills.

“You can’t be serious right now,” Tori complains, rising from her bed with an ease that belies the tension in the air. Her voice is sharp, the tone painfully familiar.

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