Page 40 of Dark Bonds

“Who?” I frown.

“Your parents.”

I’m already shaking my head before she can finish the question. “No.”

“Did they leave you with anything?” She sounds exasperated. We’ve been around this conversation a few times. It still hasn’t sunk in.

I reply with patience, because when you grow up with even one parent, it’s strange knowing your friend didn’t have one. “Nothing, no engraved baby blanket or tattoo that explains a mysterious heritage. No note. Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Tori says softly, her voice laced with genuine concern. “I know this is a difficult topic for you, but I was just trying to help.”

I offer her a small smile. “I know, Tori. I appreciate it.” Actually, it isherI appreciate. I’ve never had a friend who cared enough to even ask me about my parents, let alone how their deaths affected me. Truth is, I don’t want to talk about my parents. Not tonight, not ever. The pain of their absence is too raw, because unlike other orphans, they didn’t leave a human baby in that hospital cradle.

They left a shadow shifter.

“Well, like I told you,” she says, “Mom can run a check.”

“I know,” I reply, untangling the wild mess that was my braid. “But at the end of the day, I don’t know if it even matters.” The fact that I don’t want to know more about the people whodropped me off in a cradle for others to care for drives Tory crazy.

I don’t really want to know more about what kind of people can do that to their child.

I groan, wanting to change the subject.

Tori looks up from carefully applying her mascara. “Okay, spill. What’s eating you?”

I hesitate, because if she is going to accept a conversation change, it’ll be about me building a pack.

“It’s Bishop and Dorian. I know I should hate them after everything that happened, but…” I trail off, frustrated.

Tori sets her mascara aside, giving me her full attention. “But you’re starting to feel something for them,” she finishes.

I nod miserably. “I feel like I’m betraying myself, you know? Like I’m falling for their act all over again.”

Tori’s silent for a moment. “Look, Frankie,” she says, “people change. Maybe they have, maybe they haven’t, but you can’t control how you feel. Just… be careful, okay?” Her words offer little comfort, but it helps to have them out in the open. “You ready?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I bundle her words into a mental drawstring bag and stuff it into my pocket.

With a final flick of mascara, Tori grabs my hand, pulling me out the door and into the hallway. The music from below intensifies as we navigate the crowded corridors, the energy of the party seeping through the walls. As we step closer to the source of the sound, the common room explodes in a kaleidoscope of light, sound, and movement. Dozens of bodies writhe on the makeshift dance floor, bathed in the pulsing glow of strobing lights. The air is thick with the scents of sweat, alcohol, and a hint of something illicit—a reminder of the wildness that often lurks beneath the surface of college life.

It’s bizarre having a party in the dorm. I originally wondered what the admin would think if they knew. They know. In fact, every now and then, I see a professor almost supervising. I spot a few professors mingling with the crowd, their presence a reminder of why we’re really here. This isn’t just a party, it’s a chance for us to form bonds and find our packs. The future of our kind depends on these connections, and the faculty is here to subtly guide us toward our destinies.

Tori grabs my hand again, this time leading me straight into the heart of the party. A surge of nervous energy flits through me. The sheer volume of bodies and the pulsating music is overwhelming, but Tori’s infectious enthusiasm is a grounding force. We weave through the crowd, dodging excited dancers and spilled drinks. Laughter spills from my lips, a sound both unfamiliar and exhilarating. For the first time in my life, I feel like I truly belong. I’m surrounded by people who accept me for who I am and celebrate my uniqueness. I’m not just Frankie, the orphan who was left on a hospital doorstep. I’m Frankie, the girl who’s finally found her place in the world, and we haven’t even reached the rugby field yet.

As the song dies down, I tug Tori toward the fire exit leading outside. Stepping onto the cool grass, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp night air. Unlike the night the beast showed up, the air vibrates tonight with a carefree vibe, allowing me to relax and soak in the atmosphere.

“Come on, let’s see the guys,” Tori says, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the rugby field. All around us, students laugh and morph seamlessly from one form to another, a mesmerizing display of shape-shifting prowess.

“Well, well,” Amanda drawls, her voice dripping with condescension. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just when I thought this night might actually be fun.

“Tori,” I mumble, a familiar knot of tension tightening in my stomach as I see the two other girls approaching.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Chloe chimes in, her voice sharp, like broken glass. “We weren’t going to miss out on your grand debut.” Their words are laced with a cruel amusement that makes my skin crawl. They know who and what I am, but to me, these two are nothing more than bullies, ones who tried to kill me and left me for dead. I clench my fists, trying to ignore the urge to retaliate.

We’re better than this, right?

The air crackles with tension as we try to navigate around them, but Amanda’s having none of it. She sticks out a leg, and with a yelp, Tori goes sprawling onto the sidewalk.

---