Page 120 of In Shadows We Dance

But I’ve seen her. I’ve seen the way she burns. The way sheexists. They can’t erase that, no matter how much they try.

Fury bubbles up, hot and fierce, but it’s different now. It’s not just possessive rage, it’s something deeper. Something that tastes like regret and burns like guilt.

My grip tightens on the ruined shoes.

Let them think they’ve won. Let them think I’ll stop. They don’t know me. And they sure as hell don’t know her.

She isn’t Ileana Moreno, the Ghost Girl. She is Isabella Rossi, heir to an empire that burned.

I won’t let her fade away.

Not when she deserves more. Not when she deserves to dance in the light, to be seen, to be known.

I rise, the shoes in one hand, the roses crumbling in the other. The apartment door slams behind me with enough force to rattle the windows.

They’ll learn.

Nobody can force her back into darkness.

Not even me.

And not while I’m still standing.

CHAPTER 61

Exposed In Shadow

ILEANA

The placethey brought us to ... it's more prison than sanctuary. Not even a safe house. Just a dingy motel room with cracked walls and stained carpets. We've been here since seven A.M.

I fought.

I refused to leave the apartment, ignored their orders to pack and change, to step outside. I was still in my doorway when three more agents in black suits barged into my bedroom, hands resting on their guns. They didn’t have to say anything. Their message was clear. I had no choice.

Now I’m here, sitting on a bed that creaks with every move, staring at water-stained wallpaper while Agent Miller talks to my father. Their voices are low, but I can hear odd words, enough to fuel the fire in my chest.

"... need time to establish new identities ..."

"... at least a week to process ..."

"... keep her contained ..."

Her.

Like I’m a problem to store away. An object, not a person.

But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not the girl who faded into corners because my dad said it was safer. I’m not the girl who let herself shrink to nothing. I’m done being small. Done being silent.

My thoughts go back to this morning, to the ruined ballet shoes and black roses I left behind. My message to the only person who might understand.

Please let him understand.

Wren.

His name is a whisper in my mind, curling through my thoughts like smoke. He shouldn't matter. I should hate him for what he’s done, for the storm he brought into my life. But I don’t.

Because Wrenseesme.

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