Page 45 of Dark Bonds

Bishop nods, his face a mask of determination. “I intended to start tomorrow. For now, she needs rest.”

Dorian stands, raking a hand through his dark hair. His energy sparks with frustration and worry, filling the room with a charge that makes my skin prickle. “Watch over her closely,” he says tersely. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Wait.” Bishop grabs his bicep, his grip tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He looks at me and Matteo, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I’m applying for a pack dorm.”

For a second, everyone’s frozen, like Bishop just dropped a live grenade in the middle of the room, then all hell breaks loose.

“What?” Tori explodes, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. Frankie stirs in her sleep, a small whimper escaping her lips. “You can’t.” Her face burns red with fury and betrayal.

“I can and I will,” Bishop argues, his voice low and dangerous.

“No, I won’t allow you to.” Tori goes toe to toe with Bishop, her small frame vibrating with rage. It’s clear the two of them have years of hurt and resentment to work out. “It’s up to the female to create the pack. It’s up to Frankie to decide if she wants to apply for a pack house, not you four. I won’t allow you to take that decision from her. If she wants to live in a pack dorm with you lot, then she needs to make that happen.”

I turn around, my heart racing. “Tori, shh.” She glares at me, her eyes flashing with a hatred that makes me take a step back. I shut the fuck up before she tries to kill me, knowing that in this moment, she might.

“Frankie is powerful. She needs mates to balance that power,” Bishop argues, his tone maddeningly calm.

Tori’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh, spare me the BS, Bishop,” she snaps, her voice rising. “What makes you think she’d ever choose you? Once a cheater, always a cheater, or did you conveniently forget how you two started?”

The words hit like a physical blow, and I see Bishop flinch.Burn. The room feels like a powder keg, just waiting for someone to light the fuse.

“Tori.” Bishop holds up his hands in a placating gesture that does nothing to calm the storm. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Get the fuck out.” Tori points at the warded door, her finger shaking with rage.

“This is my personal office. You can’t kick me out.” Bishop tosses his hands in the air, frustration evident in every line of his body. “If you would just listen?—”

“Watch me.” Tori pushes him backwards, her small hands connecting with his chest with enough force to make him stumble. “And no, you have to earn my attention.”

“You can’t just ignore me, Tori.” Bishop tries to reason with her, his voice taking on a pleading edge that makes my stomach churn.

“We don’t need you,” she growls, and the words carry the weight of years of pain. “We can handle this without you.”

Handling it apparently involves her bestie fainting in the middle of a party. Frankie needs protection, whether she likes it or not. The thought rises unbidden, sharp and possessive.

I watch the standoff between Tori and Bishop warily, caught between my desire to protect Frankie and my fear of overstepping. Neither is backing down, both determined to have their way. Frankie stirs in her sleep again, mumbling something I can’t understand. I move closer to soothe her, brushing the hair from her face. She settles once more, though her skin remains cold and pale, a reminder of how fragile she is.

I know Tori wants to protect Frankie’s independence, but Bishop has a point too. Frankie’s powers are expanding rapidly, and she needs help learning control. Perhaps there’s a compromise here, a middle ground where Frankie gets support without sacrificing her autonomy, but with Tori and Bishop at each other’s throats, reason can’t get a word in edgewise.

Matteo steps forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “This argument solves nothing,” he says steadily, his voice a balm to my frayed nerves. “What matters now is helping Frankie. We can decide the rest when she wakes.”

Tori snorts derisively. “Stay out of this, Matteo. You don’t get a say in Frankie’s life.”

Matteo’s jaw tightens at the dismissal, a muscle jumping in his cheek. I wince in sympathy—none of us want to be sidelined, but Matteo and I especially have no grounds to interfere. We’re outsiders looking in on a world we desperately want to be part of.

“Frankie needs to decide her path forward,” Dorian interjects, his voice firm with authority. “We will present all options when she wakes, then respect her choice.” He looks pointedly at Bishop and Tori. “Agreed?”

Clearly they don’t agree. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on, filled with unspoken threats and promises.

Tori crosses her arms and glares at Bishop, her eyes burning with hatred. “Fine, but I’m staying right here until Frankie wakes up.”

Bishop’s jaw clenches, but he gives a terse nod. “We’ll see what she has to say.” The words are a challenge, a promise of battles to come.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go find a healer?” Tori snaps at Bishop, her words sharp enough to draw blood.

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I swear I can see sparks flying between Tori and Bishop. Dorian pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he’s aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

“Enough.” Dorian’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip. “Bishop, find some mattresses. We’re staying here tonight.” His tone brooks no argument.

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