Page 20 of Shadowed Whispers

No one speaks up.

As he staggers back, blood streaming from his face, the silence in the bar is absolute, heavy and expectant. “You’ll regret this,” he hisses, wiping blood from his lip with a shaky hand.

I won’t.

Balancing precariously on the edge of the counter, I kick him in the chest. My heart races as I watch as he tumbles backward, only to fall on his ass, then I jump off the bar, landing in a crouch at his feet, the impact sending a jolt through my body.

My heart races, not from fear, but from the realization of what I just did in front of everyone. I crossed a line there’s no coming back from. The shadows at my feet stir in anticipation, as if they are part of this dark dance.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed,” I whisper more to myself than to him. As the reality of the moment sinks in, I wonder not if, but when, I’ll pay for what I just did. The bar’s silence feels like the calm before a storm, and for the first time, I’m not sure I can control what comes next.

Knowing there is a crowd, I’m careful—well, as careful as I can be. Grabbing his ankles, I call on that part of me I keep hidden, the one without an ounce of self-control, and let it rush forward.

For a moment, the twinkle lights flicker.

Luckily, most people who are regulars know the drill by now and don’t say a word as I grab him by the ankle and drag him toward the back door.

As I weave through the crowded bar, a familiar prickling sensation tickles the back of my neck, whispering of the part of me I keep veiled in shadows. Reading the room isn’t just a skill for me—it’s deeper, more innate, like I’m tuning into a frequency only I can hear. Sometimes, my mere presence seems to stir the air, making the lights flicker or the temperature drop. Nobody ever notices these subtle shifts but me. It’s my secret, a piece of me that’s both a blessing and a burden.

To anyone else watching, it looks like I’m taking out the trash, but to me, I can feel the shadows that whisper of home and protection. They leak out of me, pooling under the guy I’m dragging through the bar.

My shadows do the heavy lifting.

As I pass the elevator, I catch Leo snapping his jaw shut, and I almost miss the crooked smirk on Matteo’s face.

I don’t know what I am. Honestly, I don’t even care. Not anymore.

I am nothing—a forgotten, unwanted creature born out of loneliness and abandonment. My only companions are the shadows I conjure from my mind. They are the only things I can rely on, the only things that give me a sense of belonging and purpose.

Without them, I am truly alone.

Chapter 7

Frankie

“How’s that self-control treating you?” Andy teases, her voice slicing through the stillness of the night just as I let the last tendrils of my shadows release the unconscious student. The shadows, extensions of my own will, slink back into the pool of darkness at my feet, disappearing without a trace. As they vanish, a fleeting sense of loss washes over me. The echo of their embrace leaves a whisper of cold in the air. It’s a reminder of the power I wield, thrilling yet isolating, a secret dance between light and shadow to which only I know the steps.

Turning to face Andy, I catch my breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline ebb away, replaced by a familiar emptiness. My heart races from the thrill and fear of what I am capable of. Propping my hands defiantly on my hips, I stride toward her, the crunch of gravel under my boots punctuating the eerie silence. The scent of damp earth and the distant murmur of the town’s nightlife swirl around us.

I force a snort of disdain. “Not sorry,” I declare, the words a shield against my own doubts, their resonance more defiant than confident.

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to be,” she replies, nodding toward the guy sprawled across the cracked asphalt of her parking lot. The area, barely lit by a solitary, flickering lamp post, casts elongated shadows that move with the occasional breeze. The flicker of the lamp creates a play of light and shadow, giving the scene a spectral quality. “I’d expect any of my girls to do the same.”

My girls. The words warm a cold corner of my heart, but I won’t let her see that. I nod, focusing on calming my racing heart, the faint smell of Andy’s familiar lavender perfume grounding me momentarily.

“Frankie?” The voice slices through the tension, Leo’s figure forming a long shadow over Andy.

She doesn’t budge, her gaze flicking to me. “Shall I let him out or kick him out the front?”

Peering up, I find Leo standing quietly behind her, the moonlight casting his face in sharp relief. It highlights a deep furrow of concern between his brows, transforming his carefree smile into a tight, worried line. His eyes, usually a vibrant ocean blue, now seem stormy and dark, clouded with apprehension. The shift is subtle but telling, revealing a depth of worry for me that feels as warm as it is unnerving.

“Let him through,” I concede, knowing full well he’d find a way to me regardless. Shrugging off the stickiness of spilled beer, I fantasize about knocking the guy out all over again just for wasting beer. Hell, I don’t even know his name.

“Go home, Frankie. I’ve got this,” Andy says, stepping aside, signaling the end of another night. She’s good for it, always trying to take care of the few employees she has. Her stern yet caring voice, tinged with the fatigue of another night, rings true and steady.

Leo moves past her, his eyes darkening at the sight of the downed student. “He’s still breathing,” I assure him, though Andy’s chuckle is the last thing I hear before she lets the door close, leaving us alone.

“I was worried about you,” Leo admits, his voice holding a cautious edge as he joins me, the bench creaking in protest under his weight. “Not him.”

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