Chapter 15 Thou Shalt Not Let Shadows Bite
Thou Shalt Not Let Shadows Bite
Arwen
The combat mats are slick with sweat, and Holly’s breathing hard across from me, grinning like she lives for this.
“Better,” she pants, lowering her fists. “You actually blocked that time.”
I nod, rolling my shoulder with a wince. “Progress.”
She tosses me a towel, and I catch it mid-air. “Hit the showers. You smell like death.”
“Love you too,” I mutter with a grin.
Holly continues to train me in combat on Saturdays to make up for the classes I’m missing. She waves as she heads toward the cafeteria, leaving me alone as I make my way down the hallway of the locker rooms right off the training fields.
Footsteps behind me cause me to pause and look around. I look both ways down the long hallway and find no one around me. Strange.
The locker room doors creak open with that familiar screech, and I step inside.
Something seems… off.
A feeling—an itch at the base of my neck. It feels like eyes are on me. Watching. Studying. Waiting.
I scratch the back of my neck and shake it off. “It’s fine,” I whisper. “You’re just tired. You’re not losing it.”
The lights flicker overhead. Just once. But it’s enough to send a ripple of cold down my spine. Why am I so jumpy today?
No one’s here. The locker room is empty. Silent except for the low buzz of old lights.
“What’s with the horror cliché?” I whisper into the silence.
I head to the showers and turn the knob, steam blooming. The warmth should relax me. It doesn’t. Every creak, every drip of water feels amplified. The echo of a whisper bounces off the tiles.
Then I hear it.
Laughter.
Soft. Chilling. Wrong.
I jerk my head out from behind the curtain. “Hello?”
Nothing.
I skip the conditioner, fingers slipping through my hair once before I give up.
The towel’s barely on me before I’m ripping it off the hook and scrubbing myself dry in frantic, uneven swipes.
My pulse thuds in my throat, too loud, too fast. I drag my clothes on, fabric clinging to damp, and leave my hair dripping down my back.
Mayhem unleashes.
Crash!
Something flies off the counter behind me.
I whirl around to find a hairbrush thrown to the floor, but nothing is there.
Bang!
Another item slams to the floor. A shampoo bottle this time.
What is going on?
I turn towards the mirror to find something drawing through the steam on the glass. Nobody is there, but the picture is forming.
A stormcloud.
Something is haunting me. I bolt.
My footsteps echo down the hallway — too fast, too loud. The lights above me flicker again. Once. Twice. The shadows stretch long and claw-like.
I glance over my shoulder, chest heaving, to see if anyone is following me.
I still see nothing, but it feels like something’s there. A small, fragile jerk that makes me want to turn around.
I pick up the pace, arms clutching my damp clothes, hair dripping down my back. I round the corner—and slam into something solid.
Not something. Someone.
I sway, absolutely about to eat floor—until someone’s grip lands on my shoulder, steady as stone, and another arm hooks around my waist, hauling me upright like I weigh nothing.
Atticus.
“Whoa,” he says, voice low and gentle. “It’s just me.”
Breath tangles in my throat, tight and hot. My heartbeat hammers so hard it trembles through my whole chest.
“Arwen?” His eyes search mine, concern etched into every line of his face. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” It comes out in a rush. I try to slip away.
He doesn’t let me. Not rough—just a soft, anchoring pressure. “Don’t lie,” he murmurs. “I felt it.”
Everything inside me stops at once.
“Through the bond. Your fear. It hit me like a wave. I couldn’t ignore it, so I came looking. Is it Maddox?”
His touch shifts, gentle now, his hands settling around me like I’m something fragile.
The knot in my chest tightens. “I don’t know what it was,” I whisper.
“I thought someone was following me. Then the lights started flickering, and things moved—flew—on their own. And the laughing… It felt like I was being hunted. Ugh, you probably think I’m insane.”
He doesn’t question it or mock me. He just… listens.
His shoulders hitch up a fraction, breath catching as his gaze wavers, like he’s not sure if he should close the distance or retreat. And then he does something I don’t expect.
He pulls me in.
Not too hard. Not possessively. Just enough to tuck me against his chest, his arms around me like a shield. His body is warm and solid and safe.
“You’re alright,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”
I press my forehead to his chest. Breathing. This is not like him. This is not like me. But everything feels right being in his arms, like an immense weight I’ve been carrying has lifted.
“I would have come faster if I had known you were afraid.” His voice is strained, filled with self-directed fury. “I should’ve been closer.”
“Atticus…” I look up at him, and his gaze is already on me—intense and open in a way I’ve never seen before. Not guarded. Not cold. Just him.
His hand comes up, brushing a damp strand of hair from my cheek.
“I should get going… Holly’s waiting for me,” I say cautiously.
Edging back, I try to laugh it off. “Maybe I slipped in the shower and hit my head. Honestly, that sounds more believable than a flying object and you having a heart.”
His hands drop before I finish, the warmth vanishing so fast I almost sway again. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear something he doesn’t want to admit was there. His eyes avoid mine. “Yeah. You should go.”
I turn and go. The creepy feeling is gone. I feel protected. I have no idea what just happened, but I’m thankful Atticus was there. Not that I’d say that out loud.
By the time I make it to the cafeteria, my nerves are still buzzing like exposed wires. I spot them right away — my friends, all huddled around our usual table, trays barely touched, deep in conversation.
Holly’s the first to notice me. Her brows pull together as she waves me over. “You look pale. And wet. What happened?”
I drop into the empty seat next to her, grateful for the warmth of their presence. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
I explain everything—the weird feeling in the locker room, the lights flickering, the laughter, the things flying off the counter. Their eyes widen as I go on.
“And then I ran straight into Atticus in the hall,” I finish, rubbing my arms like the chill still clings to me. “He said he felt my fear through the bond.”
Brix raises a brow. “Atticus? The ‘cold and broody’ Atticus came to the rescue?”
“That’s the one,” I mutter.
“And he comforted you?” Tabby leans in like I’ve just confessed a scandal.
I nod, slow. “Yeah. He was… weirdly nice. Like, actually nice. He held on to me until I stopped hyperventilating. Which is—yeah. Not normal.”
Holly whistles low. “Okay, that’s a plot twist.”
We all sit in silence for a second, trying to piece it together.
“I don’t know what’s weirder,” I admit, “the creepy ghost vibes or Atticus acting like he cares.”
“Well, both are concerning,” Cleo says. “But let’s not lose focus. It was probably just another bully.”
“Right.” Sly straightens up. “We’ve been digging more into sin powers. How they appear and what could trigger them.”
The shift in tone is instant. Everyone gets a little too quiet. Eyes darted around, making sure no one was listening.
“What?” I whisper. “You found something.”
Cleo sighs, pushing her tray away. “We didn’t find much. Most of it is… useless speculation. But there’s one thing that keeps coming up again and again.”
“Which is?” I press.
Brix exchanges a look with Holly, then says, “That a sin power can sometimes manifest after a bond is... completed.”
My stomach sinks. “What do you mean by ‘completed’?”
“You know what they mean,” Holly says. “Bonded. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. A full bond. All the way. Sharing blood with whom you are tethered too, solidifying the connection. "
“Oh,” I say. “That’s… not ideal.”
“We weren’t going to say anything until we were sure there wasn’t another way,” Sly adds quickly. “But every source we found hinted at it. Some outright said it. That — the moment of completion—can trigger a power.”
My chest tightens. “And you all agree?”
Silence answers me.
Tabby shrugs. “Look, we’re not saying you have to sleep with someone. But out of the four bonds, there must be one you could try to take things further. Even emotionally. It’s better than exile.”
I lean back in my chair, pulse racing. “You’re asking me to pick one of them. To... give myself to them, bind myself to them, in hopes I might get a power.”
“We’re not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Brix says. “But we are saying it might be the best way, at least with the deadline we are under.”
I exhale, heart pounding in my ears.
Complete a bond.
Four choices. Each dangerous in their own way. Each holds part of me already. Not to mention the fact that not a single one of them wants anything to do with me outside of Alexi, who just seems to want my body to satiate his lust.
I stare down at the untouched food on my tray, my appetite gone.
“I need to think,” I whisper.
And gods help me, I’m terrified of what that choice might lead to.
***
I haven’t slept.
We stayed up all night arguing, strategizing, obsessing.
Half the semester is already almost gone, and I’m still sinless.
Still at risk of exile. Still waiting for something to change while everything around me moves at full speed.
And it’s clear now that the exposure from the Sin training classes is not helping.
I haven’t heard from Dean Bellows in months…
We made a decision. It has to be Atticus.
It makes sense. He’s powerful, respected… not to mention the only one who has actually spoken to me more than once. And… he was kind to me yesterday. He held me when I was falling apart. Looked at me like I mattered.
If I develop a sin power from Pride, his father might have some pull. It just makes the most sense.