Page 154 of In Shadows We Dance

ILEANA

TWO WEEKS LATER

The first fewdays back in Silverlake Rapids pass in a haze of sensation and adjustment. Wren keeps me in his room initially, wrapped in silk sheets and his possessive embrace, while his father's influence clears away the last traces of federal interference and smoothes the way for us to return to school.

Each morning, I wake to his eyes on me, his hands tracing lazy patterns on my skin, his mouth claiming mine before I’m fully conscious. The isolation should feel like another cage, but instead, it feels like freedom. The freedom to exist fully and completely, without hiding any part of myself.

He takes care of me in ways I never expected. It's not just the possessiveness, it's the way he ensures I eat, and the way he keeps me grounded when I start to lose myself in the chaos of everything that's happened. His insistence isn't soft or gentle, but it's exactly what I need. He knows my limits better than I do, and his demands make me feel safe, cherished, and completely his.

When we return to school, whispers follow us through the halls, but I don’t try to fade into the dark anymore. Wren's hand on my lower back, his possessive touches between classes, the marks he's left on my throat. Everything declares exactly who I belong to now. Even the teachers seem uncertain how to handle the new dynamic.

Now, two weeks later, I'm standing in the east wing thatwill become our space. Sunlight streams through tall windows, catching dust motes stirred by the constant movement of movers and boxes. Monty and Nico arrived early to help, their presence a reminder that some things haven't changed, even if everything else has.

"Christ, you've gotten even worse with the photography," Monty mutters, sorting through another pile of prints. "At least before you just used your phone. Now it's?—"

"Those aren't for your eyes." Wren’s voice carries that dangerous edge I've come to crave.

"Clearly. I need eye bleach, and possibly therapy to get over them." Monty shoves the photographs back into their folder and reaches for another box. He pauses, pulling out a memory card. "Hey, aren't these the shots from the crash? From when that car hit the school?"

Wren's expression shifts, that piercing focus turning toward a new target. He abandons the surveillance equipment he's dismantling and crosses to where Monty stands.

"I never did figure out what was behind that." His voice is thoughtful as he takes the card, turning it over in his fingers. "Got ..." His eyes lift to meet mine, and a smile tips one corner of his mouth up. "Got distracted by other mysteries."

I remember that day. Standing beside him on the steps, his fingers around my wrist, watching someone disappear into the trees while chaos erupted around us. It feels like another lifetime, though barely a month has passed.

His gaze locks on me, the intensity deepening.

"Do you want to watch it?" The invitation isn't gentle. It's a demand to stand beside him, to share his world. I nod, stepping closer.

He slides the card into his laptop. "Something about it wasn't right. The timing was weird. It made no sense."

Security footage fills the screen. Students pouring out of the building, phones raised to capture the spectacle. But Wrenfocuses on the edges of the frame, on the spaces between the obvious chaos.

"There." His finger taps a figure on screen. "Moving away from the crowd instead of toward it. Heading for the science wing while everyone else runs forward."

"The midterms were that week," Nico says slowly. "Advanced Chemistry. Half the football team was on academic probation."

Wren pulls up another camera angle. "And where was the exam office?"

"Other side of the building." I move closer, drawn to his intensity. After days of being his sole focus, watching him turn that keen attention to solving a mystery sends heat curling through me. "While everyone filmed the crash ..."

"Someone had time to get in and out without being noticed." Wren's smile turns sharp. "The missing plates, no key in the ignition. It was all staged. Create enough chaos, and no one looks past the obvious."

"So who ran into the trees?" Monty asks.

"Check the varsity roster against student schedules." Wren's fingers move across the keys. "Who had the most to lose from failing chemistry?"

I watch, fascinated, as Wren connects the pieces together.

The car was reported stolen from a local garage. The perfectly timed distraction. The desperate need to maintain grades for scholarships.

Is that how he discovered all the hidden threads of my life?

"All that drama just to steal test answers?" Nico shakes his head.

"Sometimes the simplest answer is the right one." I find myself smiling at the sheer normalcy of it. After federal agents and hidden identities, after days of adjusting to this new life with Wren, regular high school drama feels almost refreshing.

"Should we do something about it?" Monty asks.

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