Page 117 of In Shadows We Dance

“James?”

Before either of us can say anything, there’s a knock at the door. It’s not loud, but in the quiet of the morning, it rips through the tension. The second knock is harder, more insistent.

“If that’s the boy who called the other day …”

“It’s not!”Please, don’t be Wren. He promised he’d meet me at school.

“Stay here.” He turns toward the hallway, expecting me to do as he says, like I always do. But I’m different now. Wren has freed something inside me. I follow him through the apartment, and stand to one side while he opens the door.

A man stands in the doorway. He’s taller than my father, dressed in a crisp dark suit. He exudes authority, the kind that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud. He steps inside without an invitation, his presence filling the small space. Something about him raises the hairs on the back of my neck. He doesn’t belong here, in our cluttered little apartment, but he fills it anyway.

“James.”

“Miller,” my father replies, his voice losing its usual warmth, replaced with something distant, wary.

The stranger’s eyes move past him, landing on me. There’s nothing there. No kindness, no curiosity, just the cold eyes of someone used to issuing demands and expecting compliance.

“We have a problem. Someone has been asking questions about your background.”

My stomach drops. I don’t need to hear anymore. I know exactly what he means. Wren warned me about this. About the people who built this lie, who buried my name so deep I could never dig it out. The ones who erased us.

“We need to relocate you.”

Relocate?The word slams into me. They’re going to take us away. Pull us out of Silverlake Rapids. They want to take me away from everything. From the dance studio.

Away from Wren.

“When?” my father asks.

“Now. Your location is compromised.”

“No!” The word tears out of me before I can stop it. It hangs between us, loud and defiant. The man in the suit turns his gaze on me like I’m an inconvenient bug.

“You can’t just decide to take us away. I won’t go.”

“Ileana—” My father’s voice is a warning. Yesterday it would have been enough to silence me. But not today. Not anymore.

“I know who you really are.” My voice rises. “Agent Charleston. The man who infiltrated the Rossi family. The man who tore me away from my real life. From myrealfather.”

Miller’s head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. My father’s mask falls away completely, and beneath it, I see a man I don’t recognize. Someone guilty. Someone afraid. Mom makes a choked sound behind me.

“I won’t let you erase me again!” The words come out stronger, steadier now. “I won’t let you destroy everything just because you’re afraid someone has found you.”

“You have no idea what kind of danger—” my father begins, his voice rising, but I cut him off, the words pouring out before fear can stop me.

“Then tell me! Stop hiding behind your lies and tell me the truth! What are you so afraid of? What’s worth destroying any chance I have at a real life?” My voice breaks, the desperation finally breaking through, each word a plea for answers I’ve waited too long for.

Miller’s face remains impassive, watching, his silence almost more terrifying than his words. The air between us is taut, ready to snap.

“This isn’t up for debate. Pack your things. You have thirty minutesbefore clean-up gets here.”

“No!”

“Everything I’ve done has been to protect you, Ileana,” my father says, his voice quieter now, and I can hear the weariness in it.

“Protect?” A bitter laugh spills from my lips. “You callthisprotection? You’ve kept me locked away, hidden from the world. You taught me to fade into the background. I’m not safe, I’mtrapped. You made me a prisoner of your fear.”

“James,” Miller interrupts, his tone clipped, “we need to move.”

---