Page 39 of Dark Bonds

“About that potential pack…” Tori trails off, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I toss another fry at her, which she catches effortlessly. “Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it.

As Leo and Matteo disappear into the crowd, a whirlwind of emotions threatens to overwhelm me. Longing tugs at my heart, urging me to follow them. Fear whispers warnings in my ear, reminding me of past betrayals. Excitement bubbles up, tempting me with the promise of belonging. Uncertainty holds me back, questioning every choice.

This new world of shadow shifters is a double-edged sword, both full of potential and fraught with unknown dangers. Can I really trust these guys? Can I trust anyone?

I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself. It’s not a terrible start to the semester, I suppose, but as I glance around the bustling cafeteria, a chill runs down my spine. The lighthearted atmosphere feels fragile, like a thin veneer hiding something darker beneath.

“You know what?” I turn to Tori, my decision made. “Let’s go to that party.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really? What changed your mind?”

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance even as my heart races. “We might as well have some fun while we can, right?”

As we gather our things to leave, I can’t shake the feeling that this might be the calm before the storm, and I intend to make the most of it.

Chapter 12

Frankie

The bass thumpsthrough my dorm room floorboards, vibrating like a giant heartbeat. It’s the annual rugby bash that practically takes over campus. Every other year, I’d burrow under the covers and pretend it didn’t exist. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to attend the parties, more like I didn’t feel welcome.

Now, excitement crackles in the air, thick enough to practically drink, and I’m a part of it. Things are so different when you’re on the inside, laughing with friends instead of watching from the sidelines. Even here in the dorms, the other students are buzzing with anticipation.

It’s electric.

Tori spins in front of the mirror, a vision in a shimmering emerald dress that clings to her curves in all the right places. Her blond hair cascades down her back in perfect waves, and she sports smoky eye makeup that looks like actual magic to create.

I can’t help but admire Tori’s transformation. She looks stunning, like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. A pang of something, envy or admiration, twists in my gut. If things were different, if Valerie hadn’t… I shake my head, pushing away the dark thoughts. There is no use dwelling on what-ifs.

“Spill it.” I grin, tossing a black tank top and ripped jeans onto the bed. “What’s the secret to that makeup sorcery?”

Tori sashays over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Years of practice, darling, and a whole lot of YouTube tutorials.” She winks, snatching the tank top and holding it against herself. “This is what you are going to wear?”

“It’s working for you.” I snatch the tank from her hands. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it per se,” Tori says with a twist to her lips, eyeing the tank top critically. “It’s just a bit… plain, don’t you think? For a night like this, you need something that will make you stand out, something that screams ‘I’m here, and I’m ready to party!’”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “And what, pray tell, would you suggest?” Please don’t tell me she’s going to try to dress me in one of her dresses.

Tori’s eyes light up as she darts to her closet, rummaging through the hangers with purpose. After a moment, she emerges with a triumphant, “Aha!” and holds up a sleek, black leather jacket.

“Now this,” she says, thrusting the jacket into my hands, “this is what you need. Pair it with that tank and those jeans, and you’ll be turning heads all night.”

I slip the jacket on, relishing the soft, supple feel of the leather against my skin. Glancing in the mirror, I have to admit Tori’s right—the jacket adds an edge to the outfit, transforming it from casual to cool in an instant.

“Alright, I concede.” I laugh, doing a little twirl. “You win this round, oh fashion guru.”

Tori grins, looking smug. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll have you slaying the style game in no time.”

“Kid?” I snort. “I haven’t been a kid in a long-ass time. If I ever was a kid,” I mutter under my breath.

Tori hears me and gives me a pained expression. I look away, the familiar ache of loss tightening my chest. The memories of my parents are like ghosts, always haunting the edges of my mind. “Frankie?—”

“Nope.” I point at her. “You just can’t change some things.”

“Do you remember them?” she blurts almost as though she is racing herself to get the words out.

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