Page 21 of In Shadows We Dance

“Or that teacher’s aid.” Nico’s voice isn’t as amused as before. “The one sleeping with the basketball coach. Took you what? Two days to get the evidence, and send it to the school board?”

“Tommy Peterson.” Monty tips his chin toward the table wherethe jocks all sit. “Star quarterback with the secret boyfriend. Only took three hours to break him.”

“That cheerleader.” Nico tosses another name into the mix. I sigh. They don’t take the hint. “What was her name? The one who transferred schools after?”

“Chantelle,” Monty supplies with a lick of his lips. “She cried so pretty when you let all her secrets spill into the world.”

I remember Chantelle. She was too easy. Too many photographs on her phone, too many secrets she thought were well hidden. It took less than a week to reduce her to tears. But that was different. That was just a game.

This … this is something else entirely.

“You won’t even let us near her. Won’t share. This isn’t how we play.”

“Who says I’m playing?”

“Me!That’s what we do. We find their weak spots, push them until they break, and then move on.”

“Tell me something. When was the last time you noticed her?”

“What?”

“Ileana. When did you last see her before this week?”

Monty frowns, clearly trying to remember. “I don’t know. Never?”

“Exactly!” I slam my hand down on the table.

“So?”

“So? What the fuck do you mean,so? She’snobody. No social media. No phone. No bank accounts. No driver’s license. She doesn’t fucking exist on paper. Doesn’t have any traceable footprint. She doesn’t make ripples. She moves through this school like a ghost, and … No one. Fucking. Notices.” My lips curve up. “No one but me, anyway. No one tries that hard to be invisible without a reason. And I want to know what that reason is.”

“You sound like you actually care. That's not how this usually works. Remember that guy last semester? The one who was paying prostitutes for sex.” Nico has refound his backbone.

“Jeremy,” Monty supplies. “That was fun. Watching him squirm when we threatened to tell his parents where his money was really going.”

“Those are different.Thisis different.”

“Different how?” Monty presses, either brave or fucking stupid. “Because she spilled juice on you? Because she pretends not to exist? You’re fucking obsessing over her. Even for you, this is weird.”

“Is it?” The words come out distant, detached, as my attention shifts to the library doors opposite the cafeteria. I know she’s in there, hiding from me. The thought makes me smile. Let her think she’s safe.

"I saw Lottie Mitchell talking to her in the library earlier," Nico mentions, noting the direction of my gaze. "Probably warning her about us. About what happened to Jessica and Chantelle."

My fingers curl, nails biting into my palms beneath the table, but I keep my voice casual. “Did she now?”

I push back my chair and stand. Nico makes a move to say something, but the look I send him shuts him down before he opens his mouth.

I don’t bother with explanations. Let them speculate. Let them think I’ve lost my edge. They’ll see soon enough.

The library is quiet, the air thick with the usual hush of whispered voices and the soft rustle of pages turning. It doesn’t take me long to find them. Lottie Mitchell, sitting stiff-backed at a corner table, her hands folded neatly on the desk as she leans in to talk to Ileana.

Ileana is the opposite. Her shoulders are hunched slightly, one finger absently tracing the spine of a closed book in front of her. She doesn’t look uncomfortable exactly, but there’s a tightness to her eyes. I watch for a moment, noting the subtle tension in the way she avoids meeting Lottie’s eyes directly.

Perfect.

I stride across the room. Lottie looks up first, her words trailingoff mid-sentence when she sees me. The shift in her expression is immediate. Her shoulders tense, her fingers twitch against the table, and her gaze darts quickly toward Ileana before snapping back to me.

“Lottie.” I stop just short of their table. “Always so busy spreading your little warnings, aren’t you?”

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