Page 13 of Dark Bonds

I nod, unable to speak. As she finishes brushing, I feel a strange tingling sensation in my fingertips. When I look down, Isee more than just a wisp of shadow. A small tendril of darkness curls around my hand, responding to my emotions.

Tori’s eyes widen. “Frankie, are you doing that consciously?”

I shake my head, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through me. “No, I… It just happened.”

She leans in, studying the shadow with a mix of awe and concern. “This is… unusual. Most shifters can’t manifest their powers so quickly after learning about them.”

The shadow dissipates as quickly as it appeared, leaving me feeling drained. “What does it mean?”

Tori shakes her head. “I’m not sure, but I think we need to start your training sooner rather than later. There’s clearly a lot of untapped power inside you.”

As the weight of her words sinks in, I’m struck by a sudden, overwhelming sense of vulnerability. I’m stepping into a world I know nothing about, with powers I don’t understand and dangers I can’t even fathom.

“Tori,” I whisper, “I’m…” I can’t even form the words, because all I hear is Valerie.

Good girls don’t cry.

She pulls me into a hug, her warmth combating the cold fear gripping my heart. “I know, Frankie, but you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

As I cling to her, I can’t help but think of Dorian’s admission about my parents. Whatever information he has, whatever secrets are still waiting to be revealed, I know my life will never be the same.

For now, though, I allow myself to feel a glimmer of hope. Whatever challenges lie ahead, whatever darkness I might have to face, at least I won’t be facing it alone.

“Thank you,” I murmur into Tori’s shoulder, the words carrying the weight of everything I can’t express.

She pulls back, offering a small smile. “That’s what friends are for. Now, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start your crash course in being a shadow shifter.”

I follow Tori down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last. The shadows seem to dance at the corners of my vision, a constant reminder of this new reality I’m struggling to accept. As we reach the guest room, Tori turns to me, searching my face.

“Frankie,” she murmurs, “I know this is all overwhelming, but I want you to know I’m here. Whatever you need.”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Anger and hurt still simmer beneath the surface, but there’s something else too—a fragile tendril of hope. In this terrifying new world of shadows and secrets, maybe that’s enough to start rebuilding.

As I step into the room, a chill runs down my spine. The shadows in the corners seem to pulse and reach out to me. I blink, and they are gone, but the feeling lingers, a silent reminder that nothing will ever be the same.

Chapter 4

Frankie

The Past

Valerie’s voice echoes in my mind, sharp and cold. “When I call”—the phone dangles just out of reach, her smile twisted—“you answer.” It’s a sick game showcasing her control. “If you don’t—” Punishment remains unspoken but understood.

I won’t give her the satisfaction. I won’t take the bait, even though every muscle in my body screams to snatch the phone away.

“Are you even listening to me, Frankie?” Her voice drips with false sweetness, but the threat is unmistakable.

“Yes.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. If I do, she will hurt me, and sometimes hurt holds such a broad definition that I don’t ever want to know what she’s thinking of. I quickly learned that hurt can mean far more than just physical.

“Perfect.” She squeaks and does a little hop. There is an odd light in her eyes full of maliciousness. “So today I want you to learn how to dance.”

My heart drops, and all I can do is blink at her. Her smile terrifies me.

“Follow me.” She spins around, still holding the phone she promised to give me. I stare at her back as she walks out of the room she kept me chained in for a year.

It’s strange. The prison is almost a safe space—a place I know I will come back to, one that is mine in a way even if it’s not… or maybe I just have Stockholm syndrome. Could be either. All I know is I can only stare at her retreating form.

“Come on, silly.” She shakes her head. If I don’t move, she will just lock me up again until she thinks I’m ready, which could be anywhere from one hour to one year. It all depends on Valerie’s mood.

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