Page 119 of In Shadows We Dance

I hike an eyebrow. “You’re here because of agirl?”

His smile is thin, devoid of warmth. "We both know it’s more than that. You’re playing a dangerous game." He pauses, letting his words settle. "It stops now."

"Or what?"

"Or we make it stop. Walk away, Wren. Before you get hurt. Beforeshegets hurt."

The threat worms its way under my skin. "Is that what this is? A warning?"

"Walk away. Stop digging." He steps closer, his gaze unflinching. "You’re not the first person to get too close to the Rossi case. Smart people back off when we tell them to."

"And if I'm not smart?"

His smile disappears. "Then you'll find out exactly how easily people can disappear. Including rich boys who think Daddy's money makes them untouchable."

I bare my teeth in what might pass for a grin. "You think you scare me?"

“This is your one chance. Take it. The Morenos are gone. Moved somewhere you’ll never find them. Just like we moved them sixteen years ago. And if you’re smart, you won’t try."

Gone?The word sends disbelief and rage shooting through me. I keep my expression neutral. "Gone?"

"Clean exit. No trace." His eyes bore into mine. "Let her go. Find someone else to play your games with. Because if you don't? If you keep pushing?" He steps closer, his cologne invading my senses, a sickly-sweet reminder of his power. "Well, there are worsethings than disappearing. Just ask Victor Rossi's other associates."

His footsteps echo against the hardwood as he moves past me. At the front door, he pauses, looking back. The door closes with a soft click.

She’s gone?

I’m moving before the thought fully forms, keys in hand, slamming out the door. The black sedan is gone when I reach the gates, but I don’t care. My mind is already racing, calculating possibilities, planning moves and countermoves.

The drive to her apartment passes in a haze of streetlights and fast turns. I’m running on adrenaline, the need to see her, to prove Miller wrong, burning through me like wildfire. The apartment building is dark when I pull up. The bad feeling in my gut gets worse, but I shove it down.

The window opens easily. Too easily. No point in changing the locks on an empty apartment. I go inside, my feet making no sound on the floorboards. But there’s no girl asleep in her bed. No beautiful, invisible dancer fading into the shadows.

The room is bare, stripped of personal items, mattress gone, everything that made it hers erased. Blank walls where her posters used to hang. Nails jutting out where curtains used to sway in the breeze.

The living room is empty too. Everything is gone … There’s nothing left.

Except for two black roses.

They lie crumpled near the wall, their petals dry, brittle, and curling inward.

And beside them … the ballet shoes. The ones I gave her.

I drop to my knees, my breath stuck somewhere in my chest as I pick them up. They’re ruined now. Torn satin, mud-streaked soles, holes where they caught on the undergrowth. Reminders of the woods. Of that night.

The night I chased her. The night I thought I could break her walls and make her mine. I see it all again. Her face pale andfrightened. The sound of her voice breaking.

And nowthis. An empty room and broken shoes.

My hand shakes as I hold them.

This is what I did.

I destroyed something beautiful. I gave her the tools to dance, and then I tore it all apart. My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. I’m responsible for this. My need to possess her, to own her secrets, to control her life. My obsession. My madness. It’s driven her back into the shadows I worked so hard to break her free from.

The irony burns in my throat. In trying to make her mine, I’ve made her disappear more completely than her father ever could.

They think this is over. That they can erase her. They think they can make her fade away again?

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