Page 51 of Shadowed Whispers

“Why?” I pause on the walkway, causing other students to curse at me when they have to adjust or run into me. The disruption ripples through the crowd like a wave, leaving whispers in its wake.

“I don’t lie,” he states, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his dress pants. The white button-down he’s wearing is buttoned to the top of his neck, save for one button, and he’s wearing a white shirt under it.

Why is that appealing?

“You don’t lie.” I blink up at him as I repeat his words. My tongue runs over my front teeth as I struggle to process what he said, the concept foreign and perplexing in this world of gray truths. “Everyone lies, Dorian.”

“I am not everyone, Ms. Vale,” he responds, flicking off a small speck of lint from his shirt.

“Noted,” I mutter to myself. “So this sounds like a you problem.” I resist the urge to poke his shoulder, my fingers twitching slightly with the effort.

“And a you problem.” He’s quick to look back at me, his eyes tracing every expression I make. They are blue, but also not, as though they once saw fog and decided that’s the color they wanted to be. It’s fascinating, really, how observant he is, as though he is mapping my facial expressions. “I won’t lie for you, Ms. Vale.”

I sigh and squint to look up at him. The sun sits directly over us, warming my head, and yet the cool breeze lifts and twirls under my sweater, creating goosebumps over my body.

My stomach chooses that moment to grumble.

“When did you last eat?” he sneers down at me.

When did I last eat? I chew on my cheek, trying to remember, but I was busy hiding from the guys, which means that was the last time I ate anything, and it was only fries and a milkshake.

“Considering it’s taking you that long to even recall, then you need to eat.” He glances over my head as he scans the courtyard. “Come now.” Without waiting for me, he sets off toward the library at a brisk pace.

I stand there, gaping at him, as my thoughts disperse in a chaotic whirlwind. I could stand here and stare, miss where he goes, and claim that I just didn’t know where he was going, but that would be a lie.

Or I could run off and hide, which is exactly what I’ve been doing for the last day, and I’m tired of hiding. It reminds me of the girl I was and not the adult I’m struggling to become.

Fuck.

Turning around, I rush to catch up to Dorian, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of the corridor, thankful that Leo, Matteo, and even Bishop haven’t called out to me. It’s only a matter of time before they find me, their presence as inevitable as shadows at dusk.

I catch up to Dorian the moment he opens the door to the library, and as I walk by, I swear I see a small uptick of his lips before he hides his amusement behind a mask of indifference. I’m immediately enveloped by the quiet magnificence of the place. The library is not just any building—it’s an old cathedral transformed into a bastion of knowledge. When I inhale slowly, the air is rich with the scent of old books and faint traces of incense that these walls still hold from times long past. There is so much history here that’s been lost, and even more that sits just under the surface, whispering secrets waiting to be discovered.

Dorian quietly shuts the door before glancing at me once to assure I’m there. With a simple nod, he turns abruptly to the left and begins to walk. He holds his hands behind him, his spine obnoxiously ramrod straight. His shoes clack against the floor, which is still adorned with the same mosaic tiles that it was when the cathedral was built eons ago.

Dorian walks past all of that at a clipped pace. A door ahead reads, “Employees only,” and I’m trusting he is an employee because he bursts through the door like he owns the entire library. As soon as I step inside, he flips a switch, illuminating a stairwell that leads down.

“This is creepy,” I muse despite the fact that Dorian still isn’t waiting for me, and he’s halfway down the steep steps. The air grows cooler as we descend, the mustiness mingling with a faint, unsettling iron scent that could very well be blood.

“No.” His voice echoes back to me, dry and humorless. “It’s more paperwork than I am willing to fill out.”

Yeah, I should have known that was the response he’d give me. Deciding that we don’t really need to talk, I follow him deeper into the basement until we finally hit the floor. He punches in a code for a reinforced door that clearly doesn’t belong in this ancient setting. It’s an odd mix of ancient atmosphere and modern technology—an aesthetic that I’m somewhat fond of now that I see it.

The door clicks open, and once again, he holds it open for me. Nerves tickle my throat as I push through and spill out into a formal basement. “Oh,” I whisper as the lights flicker on to reveal a space with high ceilings and more bookshelves. Only this time, there are glass boxes with tomes in the center—not books, tomes. “Alright, Hollywood, this is impressive.”

“Hollywood?” he says as he pivots on a heel, his shoes clacking as he leads me down the massive space.

“Felt right,” I answer, but my mind is a thousand miles away.

“Be careful not to wander off. The library has a mind of its own,” he mutters over his shoulder as he leads me down the walkway.

“What do you mean?” I want to stop and look at the books, but I’m starting to blindly trust Dorian, thinking that maybe he will lead me somewhere magical.

“Did you not notice that this space is only a fraction of what’s above?” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks.

My smaller legs move twice as fast to walk beside him. “I mean, not all basements are the size of the first floor.”

“This is triple the size.” He pauses and looks down at me. “Look back.”

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