Page 90 of Shadowed Whispers

Frankie

“Dorian!” My voice rebounds off the deserted hallway walls, mixing fear with mounting frustration. I wrench my hand from his unyielding grip, struggling to glimpse what lurks beyond him. Each time I shift, he mirrors me, a steadfast guardian obscuring the ominous glass door. “I’m certain I saw something...” The words dissolve on my tongue as the chilling silhouette of the creature flashes in my mind, rooting me in a moment of raw terror.

What the hell was that?

A lion? A bear? A wolf?

The air is charged with a sinister silence that amplifies our isolated breaths and the distant, echoing howls that aren’t quite human or animal. Dorian’s gaze pierces through me, a storm of conflict and secrets swirling in his eyes. Suddenly, the dense shadows at the end of the corridor churn with an ancient, malevolent energy, coalescing into a towering beast draped in darkness. Its eyes, burning a deep, hellish red, lock onto mine, and its form flickers erratically, as if it’s struggling to maintain its presence in our world, hinting at its otherworldly origin.

A shrill, terrifying scream slices through the air like a sharp blade.

“What the hell is that?” I rush toward the door, desperation fueling my movements, only for Dorian to lift me up and toss me over his shoulder. For a moment, I’m utterly shocked because I didn’t think he was capable of such physical strength. “Dorian!” I yell at him, my voice muffled against his back. “Tori is out there!”

“One day you will thank me for this,” he mutters as he moves deeper into the school. His grip is unrelenting, secure and firm as if I were a child again, helpless and needing protection.

Except, I’m not completely without the ability to fight back. I have shadows. As I glance back at the door, I watch as one of my shadows I haven’t even named yet—a wolf—slowly rises from the floor and begins to follow us. She leaps from wall to wall, her movements silent and fluid in the periphery of my vision.

Confusion and awe swirl within me. My heart races with burning curiosity. My shadow wolf moves with a purpose, a deliberate grace that feels both eerie and familiar as it follows us, then she jumps into the wall, disappearing.

If she’s out, then I’m out.

“Dorian, put me down!” I demand. Reluctantly, he sets me on my feet in a darkened corridor, far from the front doors and the chaos that erupted outside.

He turns to face me, his expression a mask of urgency and concern. The dim light flickers above, casting his features in stark relief. “Frankie, you have to trust me right now. We’re not safe.”

“Not safe from what? Dorian, that thing—what’s going on?” My voice rises with my temper, a fierce need to understand pushing me to confront him.

Dorian looks torn, his mouth opening then closing as he battles with his conscience. With a pained expression, he manages to whisper, “Frankie, there’s more at play here than I can safely explain right now. This creature, it’s not just a random threat—they are tied to the secrets this school was built upon. Please, just trust me for now.”

“Are you telling me there are more than... beasts out there?” I ask, my voice steadying as I find my footing in this surreal reality.

“More than you know,” he whispers, tugging me deeper into the school. Under his breath, he adds, “Foolish girl. Leo or Bishop would be better at protecting you.”

Protect me? The realization that Dorian has been guarding me from unseen dangers all this time is both terrifying and infuriating. Why can’t he just tell me everything? What binds him to secrecy?

My mind races, trying to piece together the snippets of abnormality I’ve witnessed. The creature outside, my autonomously moving shadow, Dorian’s cryptic comments—all of it begins to formulate into a story in my head too complex to ignore.

“Dorian!” I insist, pulling my hand from his grasp, my fingers cold with fear and determination. Each time I try to peer around him, he shifts, deliberately shielding me from whatever lies beyond the glass door. “I am pretty sure I saw a big...”

“What?” His voice is a low murmur, more to himself than to me, as his eyes scan the looming shadows, searching for signs of danger.

“Dorian, I... I saw that beast,” I admit. I feel as though I’m on the precipice of something monumental, something life changing.

“It’s... complicated and dangerous,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “For now, I need you to stay close and trust me.”

He leads me through the school, his hand a firm presence in mine. He turns on every light we pass. The fluorescent bulbs flicker to life, casting shadows against the walls that seem to play tricks on my eyes.

“Dorian, where are we going?” I attempt to yank my hand away, but his grip is unrelenting. His eyes dart around every corner as we move through unfamiliar halls, his senses heightened and alert.

“A safe room,” he answers, pausing to pull out his phone. He unlocks it swiftly, his fingers flying over an app, then he resumes leading me forward while texting someone with his free hand.

“A safe room?” I echo, my confusion growing as his phone rings, the sound sharp and sudden in the quiet corridor.

“Speak,” Dorian commands into the phone. I catch only murmurs from the other end. He’s laser focused, scanning our surroundings with an intensity that makes him seem more distant than ever. “I knew this was a risk,” he snaps into the phone, his hand tightening around mine. “The dorms.”

I’ve spent every lunch this semester with Dorian, yet right now, I’m seeing sides of him he’s never shown. Despite the crisis, his casual attire—a simple jeans and T-shirt ensemble—somehow makes him look incredibly... hot.

The murmuring continues as he propels us through the aging halls of the school, each echoing our hurried footsteps. Then, a scream slices through the phone call, making me gasp. Dorian freezes in the dimly lit hallway, his nostrils flaring as he processes the sound.

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