I paced my dorm room, watching the minutes tick closer to noon. Knox would be waiting at the west entrance by now, probably growing more impatient by the second. Part of me wanted to go—to see if his pack elder really could tell me something about the Shadow's symbols that the Order didn't already know. But Reed's warning still echoed in my mind. If you're not careful, you'll end up like them. Like your parents.
What if Knox's offer of help was just another trap? What if the Order was watching to see who I'd align myself with? The pendant throbbed against my skin, a constant reminder that indecision was a luxury I couldn't afford.
With a deep breath, I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. I'd at least hear what Knox had to say. I could still walk away if it felt wrong.
I had barely made it to the end of the hallway when I saw Professor Walker coming toward me, his face set in a grim expression. He stopped abruptly when he saw me, his eyes narrowing. Even in the bright hallway, shadows seemed to cling to him, as if darkness itself was drawn to his presence.
"Cora," he said, his voice carrying that same authoritative edge I'd come to recognize. "We need to talk. Now."
"I can't. I'm supposed to be meeting someone." I tried to step around him, but he shifted slightly, blocking my path without appearing to do so—a predator's movement, graceful but unyielding.
"Knox Bates can wait," he said, his tone making it clear this wasn't a suggestion. "This is about what happened with Reed this morning."
I froze. "How do you know about that?"
His eyes darkened, centuries of knowledge and pain flickering behind them. "Because the Order doesn't move without leaving ripples. And right now, those ripples are turning into waves." He glanced down the empty hallway. "Your room. Not here."
The warning in his voice made my protest die in my throat. I nodded reluctantly and turned back toward my door. Knox would have to wait—or come looking for me, as he'd promised. Either way, this didn't feel like a conversation I could avoid.
When we reached my room, Walker closed the door firmly behind us. He didn't sit, instead pacing the small space with controlled energy—a warrior assessing the terrain before battle.
"Reed showed you the photographs," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes." I leaned against the desk, keeping my distance. A familiar pattern—I wanted his protection even as I maintained the walls around me. "How did you—"
"Because they've been circulating among the inner circle since dawn." He stopped pacing, his gaze settling on me with uncomfortable intensity. "The symbols are rare. Ancient. The kind of thing that sets off alarm bells for people who understand what they mean."
My pulse quickened. "And do you? Understand what they mean?"
Something flashed in his eyes—caution, maybe, or calculation. "Enough to know you're in more danger than you realize. The Order is split on how to handle you, but the Traditionalists are gaining support."
"The containment faction," I murmured.
Walker's eyebrows rose slightly. "Reed told you more than I expected."
The pendant warmed against my skin, its pulse quickening with my anxiety. I opened my mouth to respond when another knock came at the door, this one harder, more insistent—demanding rather than requesting.
"Cora?" Knox's voice filtered through the wood, tight with irritation. "We had a meeting, remember?"
Walker's expression darkened. "Perfect timing, as always."
Before I could move, the door swung open. Knox stood in the threshold, his golden eyes immediately locking onto Walker. His posture shifted instantly, expanding to fill the doorway—an alpha marking territory. The air around him practically crackled with contained power.
"Professor," he said, the word almost a growl. "Fancy finding you here."
"Bates," Walker replied coolly. "I assume you're here about the symbols too?"
Knox's gaze flickered to me, then back to Walker. "I'm here because Cora and I had plans that apparently got derailed." He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him with definitive force. "Though I'm curious why you're so invested in her situation, Professor. Last I checked, vampire history wasn't related to energy-draining curses."
The tension in the room thickened. Walker's stillness became more pronounced—a predator's pause before striking. "My interest is in keeping her alive, which is more than I can say for some of the Order's plans."
"The Order?" Knox's eyes narrowed, his attention shifting fully to Walker. "What do they have to do with this?"
Instead of answering, Knox moved closer to me, his protective instinct manifesting physically as he positioned himself between me and Walker. "You were supposed to meet me an hour ago. I told you I'd come find you if you didn't show."
I felt a contradictory rush of irritation and comfort at his presumption. "I was on my way when—"
Before I could finish, another knock interrupted the standoff. This one was softer, more deliberate. Three precise taps—methodical, like everything else about him.
"Cora?" Easton's voice. "We need to talk. It's about the energy signature your pendant is emitting."
I closed my eyes briefly, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course. Of course all three would converge at once, each with their own agenda, their own version of "helping" me.
"Come in," I called, resignation coloring my voice. "It's apparently an open house."
The door opened to reveal Easton, his expression tightening when he took in the scene. His green eyes swept the room clinically, assessing and cataloging every detail before settling on me with that calculating intensity I was beginning to recognize. Unlike the others, he made no move to assert himself physically—his power lay in his mind, not his presence.
"I see I'm late to the party," he said dryly, stepping inside and closing the door with deliberate care. "Though given recent developments, perhaps a group discussion is warranted." His gaze lingered on me, noting my pale complexion, the tension in my posture. "The pendant's deteriorating more rapidly than I anticipated. I assume that's why we're all here."
"What recent developments?" Knox demanded, glancing between the three of us. "Someone want to fill me in on what the hell is going on?" His tone carried the expectation of immediate compliance—the voice of someone used to being obeyed.
"The warning that Reed delivered this morning," Easton said, his voice dropping an octave. He reached a hand precisely into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a small silver disk. With a quick motion, he tossed it to the center of the room where it expanded, creating a faint shimmer in the air around us. The ambient noise from the hallway suddenly vanished.
Knox tensed visibly. "Privacy ward? Really?"
"Trust me, we need it," Easton replied, his voice cool and measured. "The Order has been watching Cora since her meeting with Reed this morning. They know about the symbols, they've been analyzing the energy signatures, and they're debating whether to initiate containment protocols." His clinical detachment made the words even more chilling, as if my potential imprisonment was just another data point in his research.
Walker moved silently to the window, checking outside with the instinctive caution of someone who had survived centuries by being vigilant. "What Easton means is they're deciding whether to lock you up before you become too dangerous to handle."
His bluntness made me flinch. I sank onto the edge of my bed, my legs suddenly too weak to support me. "All this because of a few symbols on my floor?"
"Not just because of the symbols," Easton said softly, his academic demeanor slipping just enough to reveal genuine concern. "Because of what created them. Because of what they represent."
Knox's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly do they represent?" His entire body had tensed, ready for action, for something concrete he could fight rather than all this talk.
Walker and Easton exchanged a glance I couldn't interpret.
"Tell me you didn't know what you were stepping into, coming here," Walker said to me, his voice suddenly tired, the weight of centuries audible in his tone.
"I came here because my parents told me to," I said quietly, drawing my knees up to my chest in an unconscious protective gesture. "Because they said this place held answers about the curse. About how to break it."
Easton's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Your parents... they were researchers with the Order, weren't they? Specialists in binding magic."
I nodded slowly, watching their reactions carefully. "Reed told me this morning. She said their work attracted 'dangerous attention.'"
"That's one way of putting it," Walker muttered, his gaze distant as if seeing things from long ago.
Knox looked between us, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. He paced the small room like a caged animal. "Ok, enough with the cryptic bullshit. What exactly is going on here? What are these symbols? What do they have to do with Cora's parents? And why is everyone acting like she's about to explode?"
"Because she might," Easton said bluntly, scientist to the core. "The curse isn't just draining energy from people around her. It's connecting to something else. Something that left those symbols as a calling card."
I felt cold sweat break out across my skin. "The Shadow," I whispered before I could stop myself.
All three men turned to look at me.
"You've seen it," Walker said quietly, recognition darkening his features. Not a question.
I hesitated, then nodded, feeling small and exposed under their combined attention. "In dreams, mostly. But last night... last night it was different. More real. It left those symbols, like it was marking territory."
"Marking you," Easton corrected, his gaze intensifying as he leaned forward, his academic interest fully engaged. "This entity—this 'Shadow'—has been linked to your curse from the beginning, hasn't it? It's what you're trying to keep contained with that pendant."
My heart raced. I'd never told anyone about the Shadow except Jude, and even he didn't know the whole truth. Seven years of careful secrecy, and now three strangers were dissecting it in my dorm room. I wanted to crawl into myself, to disappear.
"Yes," I admitted finally, my voice barely audible. "It's been there since the curse manifested. Watching. Waiting. But the ley lines here are making it stronger."
Knox exhaled sharply, his frustration boiling over. "And you didn't think this was worth mentioning when I was trying to help you last night?" He slammed a fist against the wall, leaving a small dent in the plaster. The action wasn't directed at me, but at the situation, at his inability to protect someone under threat.
"I barely know you," I shot back, defensive despite the guilt twisting in my gut. "I barely know any of you. Why would I trust you with this? Everyone who's ever tried to help me either gets hurt or has their own agenda." My voice cracked on the last words. "I can't be responsible for anyone else getting hurt because of me."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Even Knox's anger seemed to subside at the raw emotion in my voice.
"Because we're your best chance at surviving what's coming," Walker said finally, his voice level but intense. He moved toward me, his darkness somehow comforting rather than threatening—a shadow that understood mine. "The Order has seen entities like this before. They have protocols for handling them—protocols that typically involve sacrifice."
"Sacrifice?" My voice came out as barely more than a whisper.
"Not literal human sacrifice," Easton clarified, shooting Walker an irritated glance. "But they'll bind the entity at any cost—including yours. If they determine you're a critical vector, they won't hesitate to lock you away permanently." For once, his clinical demeanor seemed like a kindness, offering facts without emotion when emotion threatened to overwhelm me.
Knox crossed his arms, his posture tightening as a decision crystallized in his mind. "So what are we supposed to do? Hide her from an entire organization of magical scholars? Run away?" His golden eyes burned with determination. "Because if that's what it takes, I'll have my pack ready within the hour. We protect our own."
"Our own?" I echoed, something in his words catching me off guard.
Knox met my gaze, unwavering. "Anyone under my protection is part of my pack. That includes you now, whether you like it or not."
"No," Walker said firmly, authority ringing in his voice. "Running would just paint a larger target on her back. We need to handle this strategically." He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "I've seen how the Order operates, Cora. I've watched them hunt down people they deemed threats for centuries. Running isn't an option."
"'We'?" I echoed, looking between the three of them. "Since when is there a 'we' in this situation?"
Easton's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Since the three of us found ourselves with a common interest in keeping you alive and unconstrained by the Order."
"For entirely different reasons, I'm sure," I muttered, unable to stop myself from withdrawing deeper into my defensive shell.
"Does it matter?" Knox asked, his golden eyes holding mine. "If we can help, does our motivation really matter?"
I studied each of them in turn—Walker with his ancient eyes and warrior's bearing, carrying shadows older than mine; Easton with his brilliant mind and guarded vulnerability, analyzing problems as a means of controlling them; Knox with his raw power and protective instincts, ready to fight battles I couldn't win alone.
Part of me—the scared, lonely part that had been running for seven years—wanted desperately to lean into their strength, to accept the protection they offered. But the other part, the part that had watched Kayla die, that saw Jude growing weaker by the day, knew the cost of getting too close to anyone.
"Fine," I said finally, the word feeling like both surrender and salvation. "What's your plan?"
"First, we strengthen that pendant," Easton said, gesturing to my chest where the amulet rested. His analytical mind had already prioritized the most crucial problem. "It's your primary protection, but it's failing. I've been researching ways to reinforce the binding matrix without compromising its effectiveness."
"I can provide power for the reinforcement," Walker added, his centuries of experience evident in his confidence. "Vampire blood has properties that enhance binding spells. I've seen it work on similar containment artifacts."
Knox's eyes narrowed at this, territorial instinct flaring, but he nodded. "And I'll keep the Order off your back. My pack has connections—we can create distractions, feed them false information about energy surges elsewhere on campus." His solution was direct, active—typical of his nature.
"And what do you want in return?" I asked, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice. "All of you. There's always a price." Seven foster homes had taught me that much.
The three exchanged glances, an unspoken communication passing between them despite their obvious rivalry.
"Information," Easton said finally, leaning forward with scholarly intensity. "About the Shadow. About your curse. About what it wants and how it manifests. Knowledge is power, Cora. And right now, we're fighting blind."
"Protection," Walker added, his voice carrying the weight of ancient oaths. "You stay close enough that we can intervene if something goes wrong. No more disappearing acts, no more hiding when things get bad."
"Trust," Knox finished, his voice lower than the others, almost gentle despite his commanding presence. "You stop trying to handle this alone. You let us help, even when every instinct tells you to run."
I swallowed hard, the weight of their offers pressing down on me. What they were asking—trust, closeness, vulnerability—terrified me more than the Shadow itself. But the cracked pendant against my skin reminded me that I was running out of options.
"And if I refuse?" The question was barely a whisper.
"Then we all lose," Walker said simply, the shadow of countless past losses darkening his features. "You to the Order's containment. Us to whatever the Shadow is planning. Because make no mistake, Cora—it is planning something. Those symbols weren't just a message. They were a beginning."
The same realization I'd had last night echoed in his words, sending a chill down my spine. I looked down at my hands, noticing how they trembled slightly. For a moment, I let myself truly see the three men before me—their power, their knowledge, their determination. Whatever their reasons, they were offering me something I'd never had: allies who might actually be strong enough to stand against what was coming.
"All right," I said finally, the words feeling like a step into the unknown. "I'll work with you. But I need to know everything—no more secrets, no more half-truths. If we're doing this, we do it together."
It was a fragile alliance, built on necessity rather than trust. Three supernatural beings and one cursed girl, against an ancient order and whatever darkness had been hunting me for years.
The odds weren't good.
But they were better than they had been yesterday.
And for the first time in seven years, I wasn't facing the darkness alone.
***
But when the others left—Easton with his tablet of notes, Walker melting into the shadows—I didn’t move. I sat there, staring at the dent Knox had left in the wall, the echo of their voices still buzzing in my skull.
I didn’t hear him approach. I just felt him—heat, presence, a low thrum of energy in the air before his shadow stretched across mine.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
He didn’t say anything right away. Just extended a hand.
I took it.
We didn’t speak as he led me out into the night. Past the dorms, down a narrow trail through the woods behind the warded courtyard. The cold air helped clear my head, but the storm inside me still raged.
He stopped under a tall pine, where the branches blocked out most of the moonlight. We stood there in the quiet, the hush between us thick with everything unspoken.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said.
“Neither should you,” I murmured.
His jaw flexed. “I can’t protect you if you keep running headfirst into danger.”
“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”
His eyes locked on mine. “The hell you didn’t. You just won’t admit it.”
That stung more than I expected. “You don’t get to decide what I need.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer, “but I’ve watched you hold everything in, like you’re carrying the whole world alone. You don’t have to—not with me.”
I hated that he saw me so clearly. I hated that part of me wanted to believe him.
He reached for me, slow and careful, brushing his fingers along mine. “Tell me to leave if you don’t want this.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned into him, letting my forehead rest against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, solid and steady, letting me breathe. Just breathe.
His hand moved in slow circles across my back. Not demanding. Not coaxing. Just there.
“I’m not fragile,” I whispered.
He held me tighter. “No. You’re fire. But even fire needs someone to shield it from the wind sometimes.”
So I let myself lean.
For one night, I let him be the anchor.
And under the quiet trees, with the world closing in from all sides, I finally stopped pretending I didn’t need someone.
I just needed him.