Page 9 of In Shadows We Dance

“Sorry.” I duck my head. “I didn’t sleep very well.”

"Just remember to be careful."

If only he knew how desperately I'm trying to do exactly that.

The October air is crisp and mild, but it does nothing to explain the cold shivers skating down my spine with every step toward school. The sensation of being watched clings to me like frost on a window.

You’re being paranoid. Stop it.

But the moment I step through the school entrance, butterflies take off in my stomach. The hallway feels different somehow, charged with something I can’t name. I have to force myself to move normally, to breathe evenly, to act like it’s just like every other day.

Because it is.Nothing has changed.

My locker provides a brief sanctuary, and I stay there, meticulously arranging books I don’t need for the morning.Anythingto delay turning around. Anything to ignore the prickling feeling at the back of my neck.

Just nerves. Leftover anxiety. Nothing more than that.

But when I finally shut my locker and turn, the lies I’ve been telling myself all morning shatter like glass.

He’s here.

Wren.

He’s leaning against the wall, one foot propped behind him, arms crossed, all fluid grace and dangerous vibes. His eyes catch mine and hold, locking me in place like a vice squeezing the airfrom my lungs.

The hallway noise fades, replaced by the heavy thud of my heartbeat. My gaze darts around, desperately hoping he’s watching someone else, but there’s no one close enough for that to make sense.

There’s just me.

And him.

His attention puts my nerves on high alert, and my feet move before my brain catches up, carrying me sideways, away from that intense stare. But his eyes follow me, and my skin burns under his gaze.

“Ballerina.”

His voice cuts through the air, smooth and soft, but it freezes me mid-step, my stomach lurching.

Just walk away. Pretend you didn’t hear him.

But I’m already turning. He pushes away from the wall with deliberate slowness, each movement calculated and graceful. That lazy smile curves his lips into something darker, something that sends fear skittering down my spine.

He takes his time approaching, confidence radiating out from every unhurried step. My heart slams against my ribs as the distance between us shrinks, and no matter how much my mind screams at me, my feet remain rooted to the spot.

“You know,” he says, voice soft. “I’ve always wondered why someone who moves the way you do tries so hard to fade into the walls.”

My breath catches. The way he says it, so casual, almost thoughtful, suggests he’s been watching me longer than just yesterday.

“I … I don’t?—”

“Don’t what?” His head tilts. “Don’t mean to? Don’t want attention?” His smile widens slightly. “Don’t want me to notice how you sneak away to dance when you think that no one is watching you?”

My knees nearly buckle beneath me. My blood turns to ice. He shouldn’t know that.No oneknows that.

The air feels thin, like there isn’t enough of it, and my visionblurs at the edges.

Run.

The word screams in my mind, but I can’t move. His gaze is a hook sunk deep beneath my skin, pulling me back and pinning me in place.

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