Page 123 of In Shadows We Dance

"And you'll go with him."

"Yes."

Her hand brushes my cheek, her touch trembling. "You’re braver than I was." She drops her hand, nodding once. And in her eyes, I see understanding. See the echo of another young woman who once chose freedom over safety.

“Go burn bright, my Isabella.”

Ten minutes. That’s all I have before they try to pull me deeper into their shadows. Ten minutes to fight my way back to the only person who’s ever seen me.

To the boy who taught me how to burn.

And the choice feels like freedom. Like flying.

Likeme.

CHAPTER 62

Patterns in Shadows

WREN

Sleep eludes me,but it’s not the typical restlessness that keeps my mind racing. The emptiness of Ileana’s apartment tears at something deeper than obsession. The roses on the floor, the ballet shoes placed just so. Every detail sears itself behind my eyelids, a thorn I can’t extract.

My muscles throb from hours hunched over my surveillance setup, but I force myself to focus. The car crash footage loops on my main screen. The angle of impact, absence of skid marks, that figure disappearing into the trees. It’s a mystery that should consume me. This kind of puzzle used to ignite my blood, driving me through sleepless nights until I unraveled every thread.

But my thoughts keep circling back to those roses.

The placement itches at my mind like an unsolved riddle, something left for me to untangle. The shoes in third position, aligned with such care, as if frozen mid-dance. Black satin ribbons trailing across the hardwood like she’s daring me to follow.

The roses. The same black ones I gave her. Fragile symbols now twisted into something more. Symbols of her strength. There’s something about the way they were placed. It makes me wonder if there’s more to it. It’s got to be more than coincidence. But what? It’s driving me crazy not knowing.

I lean back, my fingers drumming against the desk, the rhythm syncing with my racing pulse.

It means something.

She knew I’d notice, knew it would haunt me until I unraveled it.

My clever ballerina.

There’s something beautiful in that. The way her mind works. The way she’s come to know me, to anticipate me. The realization doesn’t unsettle me like it should. It pulls at something deeper,something I can’t name yet.

A growl rumbles low in my chest as Agent Miller’s smirk slithers into my mind. His satisfaction at taking her, at making her vanish.

They think they’ve won. That they can make her disappear. Cut her off from me.

I won’t let them.

My eyes go back to the footage playing on the screen.

Students rushing from the building, phones raised. Chaos engineered to perfection, every eye drawn exactly where someone intended.

Those fucking roses.

My jaw clenches, tension winding tight enough to make my head throb. The emptiness she’s left behind gnaws at me, each second another twist of a knife.

I need answers.

I needher.

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