Page 10 of In Shadows We Dance

“Yesterday was …illuminating.” He steps closer, the space between us shrinking. His voice drops, almost a whisper, but it carries. “Makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

I stumble back a step, but his presence seems to press in, filling every corner of my awareness. “I’m not hiding anything.” The words come out too quick, too breathless.

“No?” He reaches out, his fingers brushing against a loose strand of my hair, twirling it slowly. The intimacy of the gesture twists my stomach into knots. “Then why do you work so hard to be invisible?”

The question hits too close to home, and I jerk back, pulling free from his touch. His hand falls away, but his smile deepens, the dark glint in his eyes sparking like a warning I can’t ignore.

“Careful, Ballerina.” The name rolls off his tongue, laden with meaning, a threat disguised as an endearment. “You’re not as good at disappearing as you think you are.”

He steps back, giving me room to breathe, but it feels more like a predator toying with its prey than mercy. His gaze moves over my face one last time before he turns away, and strolls down the hallway like he has all the time in the world.

I release a shaky breath as the school’s clatter and hum rushes back in, the normalcy going on around me almost jarring.

What does he mean?

His words echo on a loop inside my head.

You’re not as good at disappearing as you think you are.

The memory of the shadow outside my window crashes over me, vivid and chilling. Was it real? Am I imagining threats where there are none? Or worse … have I been fooling myself all these years, thinking I was invisible when I wasn’t?

The thought makes me feel naked. Stripped down to my essence. And I can't shake the feeling that this is only the beginning. That he’s only just getting started.

CHAPTER 6

The First Move

WREN

I getto math class early, choosing my seat with care. Yesterday’s orange juice mishap hooked my attention, but this morning’s hallway encounter? That made her irresistible.

The empty classroom gives me the perfect opportunity to plan. I settle at the desk directly behind her usual spot, anticipation buzzing under my skin. The chaos of students filtering in is just white noise to me, meaningless compared to what’s about to happen.

When she appears in the doorway, my pulse quickens, surprising me. She freezes for a heartbeat, eyes darting around the room until they land on me. The color drains from her face, then she forces her shoulders back, lifts her chin, and pretends she hasn’t seen me.

But it’s an act. A clumsy one.

She approaches her desk with the quiet deliberation of prey trying not to draw a predator’s attention. My friends spill into the room next, claiming the surrounding seats, clearing out anyone too close. No one protests. They know better.

Ileana lowers herself into her chair slowly, as if it might collapse beneath her. The tension radiates off her, her awareness of me palpable. I lean back, stretch my legs, and let my foot nudge her chair leg—a slight tap. She stiffens.

The teacher starts talking, and she lets out a breath, relaxing a little. I can almost hear her thoughts.

She thinks she’s safe now. Protected by the teacher being here. She thinks the teacher’s presence is enough to shield her.

She’s wrong.

I study the elegant line of her neck. Her skin is bare, vulnerable, the ponytail only emphasizing how exposed she is. Deliberate ornot, it’s an invitation I can’t resist. I drag my pen lightly across the back of her neck, just below her hairline.

“Tell me, Ballerina,” I whisper, voice low enough that only she can hear me. “Do you always try this hard to be invisible, or is it just a school thing?”

A shiver runs through her, but she keeps her face forward, pen moving across her notebook in shaky lines.

“I saw you dance yesterday. Nothing invisible aboutthat.” I keep my voice calm, almost casual. “The way you move … it’s like you become someone else entirely.”

Her pen stills, knuckles turning white around it.

I press my foot against her chair, pushing just hard enough that it shifts forward. She catches herself against the desk, her hands trembling as she tries to steady herself.

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