Page 138 of In Shadows We Dance

He’s coming. I know he is.

I don’t know what comes after that, and I don’t care. For now, it’s enough to wait.

CHAPTER 70

Setting the Stage

WREN

The night explodes.

A firework screams through the air, bursting into a torrent of red and gold. It lights up the sky, and for one split second, I can see everything—the fence line, the movement of agents, the flash of a radio glinting in the dark. Then it’s gone, swallowed by the night. Another blast follows, closer,louder, shaking the ground like a war drum.

I laugh to myself, imagining Nico somewhere on the far edge of the property, howling like a maniac as he strikes another match. Monty will be cursing him, pacing with that calm, simmering tension he always has when things are about to go sideways. But he’ll be keeping track, orchestrating every flicker of light, every trick of sound. He’s our clockmaker, winding the gears on this chaos while Nico lights the fuse.

And me? I’m the problem they’ll never see coming.

I move through the woods, my steps light. The trees are alive with noise now. Alarms screeching, dogs barking, agents shouting into radios they think will save them. They don’t realize how far behind they already are.

This isn’t random. This is fucking theater.

Monty and Nico are pulling the strings, and I’m the grand finale, waiting in the wings. They’ve got agents spinning in circles, chasing shadows that don’t exist, while the real threat—me—walks right out of the front door. I don’t need to see what’s happening to know it’s working. I can picture it perfectly.

Nico will be wild-eyed and grinning, crouched low behind a rock, flicking lighters like he’s putting on a show. He’ll be singing some stupid pop song, something random, because that’s what Nico does when he’s having too much fun.

Monty, on the other hand, will be somewhere high up, probably glaring down at the chaos with his arms folded. He’ll be telling Nico he’s a fucking idiot, while he flips another sensor, or cuts a wire, because for all his griping, Monty thrives on this too. He’s good at it. Weallare.

They’re distracting the agents, spinning their heads with fire and noise, and I’m the devil breaking free. They won’t see me. They’ll never know I was here. By the time they catch their breath, I’ll be gone.

I reach the car, exactly where I expect it to be, and retrieve the keys. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I pull out my phone.

“Yeah?” Monty answers, over the distant shriek of fireworks.

“I’m at the car. You holding them?”

“Them, yeah. Nico? No.” Laughter rings out, punctuated by a loud bang, then a sigh. “Nico just blew up a fucking propane tank.”

“Of course he did.” I smirk. “Any injuries?”

“Only to their pride. Half of them think you’re running east. The other half don’t even know wheretheyare anymore. You’re good.”

“Keep it that way.”

“You got it, psycho.” His tone changes then. “Wren, listen. These aren’t weekend rent-a-cops. They’re trained for this.”

“Good.” My voice hardens. “Then they’ll know what it means when they lose.”

He’s quiet for a second. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

He’s still laughing when I end the call. The car engine growls to life, low and smooth, and I press down on the gas and pull onto the hidden road.

The headlights cut through the dark, illuminating only what’s directly in front of me. Trees blur past, shadows bleeding into one another. The sound of the engine blends with the distant pops and booms from the fireworks Nico is still hurling into the sky.

It’s all going to plan.

The agents think they know me. They think I’m reckless, young, and out of control. But they don’t understand what’s really happening. This isn’t recklessness. It’s strategy.

---