Page 102 of Dark Bonds

“Frankie! It’s good to see you,” she says, setting her cloth down and approaching me with open arms.

I return her hug, the familiar scent of coffee and cinnamon enveloping me like a comforting blanket.

“Hey, Andi,” I say, pulling back slightly. “It’s good to see you too.”

She beams at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You too, sweetie. How have you been holding up?”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Actually, that’s kind of why I’m here. I was hoping we could talk about me coming back to work.”

Andi’s smile falters for a moment, concern flickering in her hazel eyes. “Frankie... are you sure about this? You’ve had a rough time lately.”

I nod, trying to project a confidence I don’t entirely feel. “I am. I need this, Andi, not just for the money, but to feel... normal again.” The word “normal” tastes strange on my tongue, almost foreign.

She studies me for a long moment, her gaze searching. I force myself to meet her eyes, praying she can’t see the shadows that now dance beneath my skin. Finally, she nods. “Alright, but I want you working in the back, at the college bar. It’s a bit more low-key, and I think that might be good for you right now.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank God. “Thank you, Andi. I really appreciate it.”

An hour later, I’m in the employee bathroom, fumbling with the strings of my apron. My hands shake slightly as I try to tie a knot behind my back. I take a deep breath, willing my nerves to settle before my shift starts. Glancing up, I catch my reflection in the mirror—disheveled dark hair, skin paler than usual, and wide, alert eyes.

As I lean closer, I notice something different and unsettling. There’s a faint shimmer in my irises, like smoke trapped behind glass. I blink hard, but it remains—a visual reminder of the changes stirring within me.

Fuck.

I smooth my apron down, my fingers trembling as they trace the familiar fabric.

“You can do this,” I whisper, the words a spell against the shadows lurking beneath my skin. “Just be normal for a few hours, Frankie.” The “normal” Frankie stares back at me, a mask I’m not sure fits anymore.

My reflection rudely doesn’t reply. I wash my hands quickly and step out of the bathroom, heading back to my station.

The college bar is buzzing tonight. It has this energy that’s hard to describe. Dim Edison bulbs cast long, dancing shadows that seem to reach for me, their movements almost imperceptible to normal eyes. Soft indie rock thrums through the air, each beat resonating in my chest like a second heartbeat. The polished wood bar gleams under my hands, its grain a maze of stories I can almost read with my fingertips. Everythingfeels... more, like someone cranked up the volume on all my senses. It’s weird.

It’s early, and only a few patrons occupy the scattered tables. The clink of glasses and murmur of conversation create a soothing white noise, almost—but not quite—drowning out the constant whisper of shadows at the edge of my consciousness.

I’m lost in thought, absently tracing the intricate patterns of a coaster—one of Bishop’s puzzles I’d distractedly pocketed—when a familiar voice cuts through my reverie. The scent of Leo’s signature coffee blend still clings to my clothes, a comforting reminder of simpler times.

“Well, look who’s back in action!”

I look up to see Tori sliding onto a barstool, her bright smile a welcome sight. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly at the sight of my best friend. “Hey, you,” I say, unable to keep the grin off my face. “What brings you to my humble domain?”

Tori leans in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, you know, just checking up on my favorite bestie. How does it feel to be back in the land of the normal?”

“I’m your only bestie.” I glance around, making sure no one’s within earshot. The nearest patrons are engrossed in their own conversations, their laughter punctuating the air. “It’s... different,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I keep expecting someone to notice something’s off about me.”

Tori reaches out and squeezes my hand. Her touch is warm, grounding. “Hey, you’ve got this. You’re still you, Frankie, just with some extra cool abilities. Besides, most of the locals are all shifters aside from the occasional drifter.”

Shaking my head, I pour her a glass of her favorite draft then push it toward her.

“How’s your week away from the island?” I wipe up the small mess I made pouring her drink before finding something else to keep my hands busy with.

Tori takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving my face. “It’s been... interesting. Mom’s been hovering more than usual, asking a million questions about school. She is actually worried.” She makes air quotes with her fingers.

My brows rise to my hairline. “Officer Hart never worries.”

“Damn right she doesn’t.” Andi tosses a rag at me through the window, one which I catch like the badass I am.

Tori rolls her eyes at her as she traces the condensation with her fingertips. “She wants me to find a pack.”

Guilt burns through me at her words, and I feel like I left her in the wind. “I’m?—”

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