Page 60 of Shadowed Whispers

“Shopping,” Marcus repeats mockingly, his voice dripping with contempt as he edges closer. “Don’t hang out with her,” he sneers, his words a familiar barb meant to isolate me. His penchant for undermining my relationships has always been his weapon of choice, one he wields deftly to remind me of the control he seeks to exert.

I have yet to turn around, and when I do, I’m greeted with his bloated face and beady eyes that roll over my body. He’s just like all the others I’ve sent to their graves.

He will be the next one to fall through my shadows.

I hide a smile and jut my chin out.

“Leave,” Matteo says, still leaning casually over the cart.

Marcus must see something in his eyes, because he holds up his hands and backs out of the aisle. I can feel my body itching to deflate as he leaves my sight, but there are a thousand Marcuses in the world, some worse than him.

“He bothers you,” Matteo observes.

“Only because I let him,” I reply casually over my shoulder.

The truth is, Marcus never really did anything to me personally, but I know his kind, and I’ve witnessed his attempts to be like all the others. He’s remained off my list only because of the shelter, but enough is enough.

“There you two are!” Leo skids around the corner, a smile on his face. “I got it up.”

I glance at Matteo, seeing a smile on his face as he looks at Leo with so much love and compassion that for a moment, jealousy sweeps through me, threatening to knock me off my feet—until he looks at me with the exact same smile.

Damn, if I let them, they will break through my walls, but they won’t want to keep me.

No one ever does.

Chapter 20

Bishop

She isn’t mine and never will be.

I guaranteed that with choices I now regret, letting raw emotion lead me astray.

I know better.

Here I am, however, enveloped by the velvet night, watching helplessly as Frankie steps out of her Jeep, flanked by Leo and Matteo—two individuals I didn’t see coming.

That’s fate, isn’t it? Weaving a web full of bullshit and lies. I’m not perfect. I never claimed to be.

Hurting her assured my imperfection, and yet, I had to.

Her voice echoes in my mind, insisting there is always a choice. She’s wrong. There was no choice for me—not then, not now. At Shadow Locke, my hands are tied by ancient laws until she awakens.

I’m forbidden to directly interfere with her awakening, but despite the agony it causes me, I find ways to subtly influence the process.

She’s so damn independent, choosing to push everyone around her away. She’s both blind and overly aware. It’s a paradox that even to this day leaves me scratching my head.

Pushing off the wall where I hide from the three who just disappeared into the tower, I turn around and face the ocean. The moonlight dances on the water’s surface, casting silvery streaks that break through the darkness. It’s beautiful here, and it’s been my home for longer than I could ever remember.

Aside from the last couple of years, I grew up here, on this very island. I took my very first steps of freedom in the courtyard right where I am now, after my adoption. I learned to ride my bike on the bridge that leads in and out under the watchful eyes of Officer Hart, and I found my first love here.

Pushing all of my thoughts aside, I slip into the shadows, allowing them to swallow me whole.

Humans gaze at their shadow, seeing blackness formed by their bodies blocking light, but some of us?

Some of us are born in the shadows. We rise from them, and we slip into them.

Lore has given us many names.

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