Page 116 of In Shadows We Dance

"I don’t know yet, but it's what I'd do. The kind of setup you'd use to draw eyes to one place, just long enough to sneak past unnoticed. If they needed a few minutes to be somewhere they shouldn't be."

Monty's gaze narrows, considering. "Think it's worth looking into?"

The question hangs in the air, a challenge, and the familiar lure of a puzzle begs to be unraveled.

"People don't stage scenes like that without a reason. The real question is whose attention did they want to divert?"

The bell cuts through our conversation, forcing us apart, but my mind doesn't leave it alone. Each moment of that day replays in vivid fragments. The car, the figure, the empty ignition. Whoever left that scene wanted just enough attention to serve their purpose, without questions sticking.

But even with that puzzle in my head, and the teacher droning on in the next class, my thoughts keep going back to Ileana.

I tap my pen against my notebook, my eyes regularly going to the door, waiting for her to walk through. Every classroom feels wrong without her. Every hallway is empty, her absence turning every corner into another dead end.

As each hour ticks by, her absence bothers me more, tension pulling my muscles tight. If she was anyone else, I could call or text. But she’snot. I should have picked up a cell phone for her, should have ensured there was a way for me to contact her.

I replay every detail of last night, every revelation pressed between kisses, every shiver of hers beneath my fingers. The way she arched into me when I stripped away the lies, every inch of her trembling as she learned the truth.

And the way she looked at me afterward. The connection between us isn't just about control anymore. It's something deeper, more visceral. Something I didn't plan for but now can't imagine living without.

By the final bell, I'm wound tight. Pushing my way through the crowded halls, ignoring the stares, my eyes scan each face. Every step is a reminder she's not where she should be.

I head to the places she might go to hide. Logically, I know she's not hiding from me anymore. Not after last night. But I still need to check, need to ensure I’m not reading the situation wrong.

The dance studio is empty, except for the scent of rosin. Myfootsteps echo as I pace, scanning the corners, checking every inch of the room.

The library. Every aisle I search is another reminder that she's not here. I scan each row, my fingers trailing across book spines, and my frustration grows.

The auditorium is dark and empty. It's like she's vanished, and the need to find her claws at me, growing stronger with every second.

The crash comes into focus again, pieces tugging at me, but it's her absence that pulls harder. Whoever set it up was careful, precise, expecting no one to look twice. But they can wait.

Right now, I need to know what happened when she confronted her father. What he might have done when his lies started crumbling around him. I can’t do that until later. I don’t want to walk into something I can’t predict. So I need to wait until she either comes to me, or night falls and I can go to her.

One thing's certain, though. If he's done anything to keep her from me, he'll learn exactly what happens when someone tries to take what's mine.

CHAPTER 59

Shadows at the Door

ILEANA

“Where have you been?”

My father’s voice cuts through the darkness. He’s sitting at my desk, face obscured by shadows, the moonlight highlighting the rigid line of his shoulders.

“I needed air.” The lie feels clumsy and obvious, and I’m certain he knows. Wren’s marks burn beneath my clothes, hot and damning. The truths he gave me are a noise I can’t silence.

“At four in the morning?” He stands up, face carved into something unfamiliar. The man in front of me isn’t the father I grew up with. He’s a stranger wearing his skin. The sharp set of his jaw, the tension radiating from his shoulders. It’s all familiar, yet wrong. A mask I’ve never looked at closely enough to see how it doesn’t fit quite right. “Since when do you sneak out?”

His suspicion should hurt, should make me retreat into compliance, but this time it only feeds the fire that Wren ignited. This time, anger shoves any fear aside, and I let it burn free. “Maybe since I realized everything about my life is a lie.”

The words land like a grenade in the middle of the room. My father stills. He looks at me,reallylooks at me, and for the first time, I see clearly what he’s been hiding. His expression cracks, ever so slightly, and the truth starts to show through.

“What are you talking about?” And because I’m waiting for it, I can hear the off-note to his voice.

Sixteen years of silence. Sixteen years of hiding. I could shatter it all right now. I could tell him I know about Victor Rossi, about my mom’s real name, about the operation that turned my life into someone else’s. I could tell him that I know he’s not really myfather. The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to strike … and then the soft tread of footsteps stops me.

Mom appears in the doorway, hair falling loose around her shoulders. She picks up on the tension in the room straight away, and her eyes move between us.

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