Page 3 of Echoes From the Void (Shadow Locke Shifters #3)

Chapter 2

Matteo

The void churns beyond the barriers, a hungry darkness consuming what’s left of campus, but my attention fixes on my mother’s Lexus, winding up the bridge to Shadow Locke. Even from this distance, I can see her driving with the same precise care she uses in surgery—hands at exactly ten and two, speed precisely at the limit. The discipline she drilled into me from childhood, back when she thought control could tame what lurked beneath my skin.

“That’s definitely your mom,” Leo says from his perch on the stone wall beside me. “No one else would make a Lexus look like it’s performing a medical procedure.” His usual playful tone carries an edge of tension. We both know why she’s here—the twins’ deteriorating condition has forced us to call in every healer we can trust.

My shadows ripple beneath the surface, responding to the memory of Finn’s pain, Frankie’s distress. I focus on my breathing, the way Mama taught me during my first violent outburst. Four counts in, hold for seven, release for eight. The technique that kept me calm through Delhi traffic now barely contains the predator inside me.

“She used to make me practice parallel parking for hours,” I say, watching darkness pool between my fingers before forcing it back. “Said if I could handle a car with that kind of precision, maybe I’d learn to control my temper. Back then, we thought rage was my biggest problem.” A bitter laugh escapes. “If only she knew what I was really fighting.”

“Did it work?” Leo shifts closer, his warmth a counterpoint to my shadows.

I glance at my hands, where darkness swirls like ink in water. “What do you think?”

“Dude, you’re going to break your hands if you keep that up,” Leo notes, and I force my fingers to uncurl, not having realized I was clenching them. The familiar itch of violence simmers under my skin, worse now that I’m part of Frankie’s pack. Every shadow feels like a potential threat to my family—both old and new.

“Stop overthinking,” Leo murmurs. “Your shadows get all weird when you do that. Like that time in Mumbai when those guys were harassing your cousin and you nearly?—”

“We agreed never to talk about Mumbai,” I growl, but there’s no heat in it. Not for Leo. Never for Leo.

“You’re extra broody,” Leo says, hopping down from the wall and stretching lazily. “Ever since Frankie let us into her space, your shadows have been doing that thing. You know, like when your mom caught us in your room last summer and you tried to pretend we were studying calculus.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “That’s not?—”

“It absolutely is. Want me to distract her with my legendary charm?”

“Your legendary charm once made Bishop threaten to turn you into a shadow puppet.”

“Yeah, but he was smiling when he said it.”

“He really wasn’t.”

The car stops, and Dr. Priya Sharma steps out, every inch the accomplished physician in her elegant salwar kameez and white coat. Her dark hair is streaked with more silver than I remember from her last visit, but she moves with the same quiet grace that commanded respect in operating rooms across Delhi. The sight of her sends me back to childhood—the scent of her healing herbs, watching her work miracles in the free clinic she ran after hours, learning control through her endless patience.

Then she sees me, and she’s just Mama, arms opening wide.

“Beta,” she breathes as I fold myself into her embrace. I have to bend nearly double—I forgot how tiny she is. Her familiar scent of cardamom and antiseptic wraps around me, and for a moment I’m a child again, safe knowing that Mama can fix anything. “My sweet boy.”

Then she stiffens. Her healer’s energy, always so warm and gentle, recoils from the shadows coiled inside me. I feel the exact moment she senses what I’ve become—the predator lurking beneath my carefully maintained control. The monster that can tear shadow beasts apart with the same precision she uses to heal.

“You feel...” she starts, then stops, her healer’s senses clearly overwhelmed by the darkness in my aura.

Before either of us can speak, alarms blare across campus. Shadow beast proximity warnings. My body moves on instinct, shifting to shield my mother as I scan for threats. The shadows under my skin writhe with anticipation, eager for violence. For the hunt.

“Matteo,” she breathes, and I hear decades of peaceful teachings in that tone. The same voice that once talked me down from destroying a boy who’d hurt my cousin. “What has happened to you?”

“Mrs. Sharma!” Leo bounds over, radiating the charm that’s gotten us out of trouble since middle school. He deliberately places himself between us, playing buffer like he has since the day my shadows first manifested in PE class. “I’m Leo, your son’s best friend and hopefully future pack member. Though you probably remember me from that time I broke your favorite vase trying to save Matteo from his terrible cricket form.”

My mother blinks at this whirlwind of energy, momentarily distracted from my transformation. The way Leo can defuse tension with a smile has always amazed me. It’s one of the many reasons I lo—trust him so completely.

“Pack?” She looks between us, her keen eyes noting everything—how we unconsciously orient toward each other, the way Leo’s shoulder brushes mine, the shadows that curl around us both. “You mean like the old stories? The packs that always centered around a matriarch, with her chosen protectors?”

Another alarm sounds, closer this time. I growl—actually growl—and my mother’s eyes widen. The sound is pure predator, nothing of her gentle son remaining.

“We need to get to the medical wing,” I say, forcing my voice level. Leo’s hand brushes against my lower back as he moves to my side—a casual touch that sends heat through my veins despite the situation. “It’s not safe out here. The void is consuming the campus.”

“Since when is my son concerned with safety?” She allows me to guide her toward the building, but her healer’s eyes miss nothing—including the way Leo and I move in perfect sync, years of shared history evident in every step. “You were always the one running into traffic to save stray dogs, climbing trees to rescue birds. And dragging poor Leo into every adventure.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?” Her gaze flicks between us. “You two are... closer than before. Like your father and I after our arranged marriage turned to love.”

Leo’s laugh carries a hint of nervousness. “Well, we’ve been best friends since Matteo moved here. Some things just... evolve naturally.”

“Like how you took the blame for my broken vase?” my mother says softly. “Even though it was clearly Matteo’s terrible aim?”

“Still is,” Leo teases, his shoulder brushing mine. “You should see him trying to play darts at Andy’s.”

“I hit what I aim for,” I growl, the sound making my mother’s steps falter.

“Down, boy,” Leo murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. The familiar phrase carries layers of meaning, memories of nights spent tangled in sheets, of passion barely contained.

We reach the medical wing doors just as another alarm sounds. Through the warded windows, I catch a glimpse of Frankie sitting with her brother, shadows and light dancing between them. My hands ache to hunt down threats, to eliminate anything that might harm them. Leo’s presence beside me steadies the violent urge, like sunshine cutting through storm clouds.

My mother’s healing energy flows between us, testing, sensing. Her eyes widen as she registers the bond forming—not just between Leo and me, but reaching toward Frankie. Toward pack.

“The twins need a healer,” I say as we walk through antiseptic-scented halls that remind me of watching her work miracles in Delhi. “But they also need protection. Sometimes... sometimes healing isn’t enough.”

“And sometimes,” she says, watching how Leo unconsciously shifts to guard my blind spot, “protection takes many forms. Your father and I taught you ahimsa—non-violence—but perhaps we should have taught you balance instead.”

A roar shakes the building. Through the windows, I see a shadow beast materializing—too close to the medical wing. Too close to my mother, to Leo, to our future alpha. My shadows surge, recognizing corruption that needs to be eliminated.

“Oh shit, that’s a big one,” Leo mutters, then quickly adds, “Sorry, Mrs. Sharma.”

“I’ve worked in emergency rooms for thirty years, beta,” my mother says dryly. “I’ve heard worse in six different languages.”

The beast’s corrupt energy makes my mother’s healing aura flicker. Choice made, I shove her behind me as shadows gather around my hands. “Get inside. Leo?—”

“Like hell I’m leaving you,” he snaps, his usual playful tone gone. Shadows start to gather around his fingers—his own abilities awakening in response to the threat.

“Protect my mother,” I growl, letting her see what I truly am now. “Please.”

It’s the please that does it. Leo knows how rarely I use that word.

“Fine,” he says, clearly unhappy. “But if you die, I’m telling Frankie. And you know how she gets about her pack being idiots.”

“Noted.”

I move to meet the beast, but my mother’s hand catches my arm. “Beta,” she says softly, “show me what you’ve learned from my healing forms.”

Understanding clicks. Where she channels energy to mend, I can use it to destroy. The same movements, opposite purpose. Perfect precision aimed at protection instead of healing.

The beast charges. I meet it with shadows that move like scalpels, cutting with surgical accuracy. Each strike mirrors a healing form she taught me—the motion for mending bones now shatters corrupted limbs, the energy flow for cell regeneration now disrupts the beast’s essence.

“Ya Allah,” I hear my mother whisper, but there’s wonder mixed with her shock.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Leo’s voice carries pride, and something more intimate that makes heat crawl up my neck despite the battle. “You should see him when he’s really letting loose.”

Through the medical wing windows, I catch Frankie watching, her own shadows stirring in response to the violence. Her presence, even at a distance, makes my own shadows sharper, more focused. This is what I am now—her protector, Leo’s anchor, my mother’s son. Violence and healing, darkness and light.

The beast dissolves under my precisely targeted shadows. As its essence dissipates, I turn to find my mother staring at me with healer’s eyes that see everything.

“Your shadows,” she says wonderingly. “They move like my healing. Wild and violent, yes, but... the same patterns. The same heart.”

“I am your son,” I say quietly. “Even if I’m not what you expected.”

“You’re exactly what you need to be.” She steps forward, and this time when she hugs me, her healing energy doesn’t recoil from my shadows. “Though your technique could use work. Your left side was completely open.”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Leo chimes in, coming to stand with us. His presence feels right, like completing a circuit.

My mother looks between us, a knowing smile touching her lips. The same smile she wore when arranging marriages for my cousins, seeing compatible souls. “Now, tell me about these twins who need both healing and protection. And perhaps explain why you both smell like the same cologne?”

Heat creeps up my neck. “It’s... a long story.”

“Good thing I brought enough curry to feed an army.” She pats my cheek, then Leo’s. “You boys are too skinny. Does this future pack of yours not feed you properly?”

Through the medical wing windows, I catch Frankie trying not to smile, though her eyes keep darting anxiously to her unconscious twin. Even in his magically-induced coma, Finn’s face looks less pained than before, as if somehow sensing the protective energy gathering around him. For the first time since feeling her car approach, I truly breathe.

My mother hooks her arms through both of ours, guiding us toward the twins. Some things really never do change—like how she always knows exactly what we need. Maybe she’ll understand about the rest too. About shadow beasts and void magic, about healing through violence, about finding family in the most unexpected places.

About how sometimes the most peaceful path is the one that runs straight through the darkness.