Page 31 of In Shadows We Dance

CHAPTER 14

Predator’s Game

WREN

I've got her.

A rush of satisfaction hits me as I study her face—defiance mixed with fear warring with panic, followed by that beautiful flicker of resignation. She knows she’s trapped, but she’s not going to make this easy for me. At least I hope not.

"Get in the car, Ballerina." I gesture to Monty's black Audi idling at the curb, engine purring in the night. "Unless you'd prefer the alternative."

Her eyes dart to the vehicle, then back to me. There’s a flash of something in her eyes, calculation, resolve. For a moment, I think she might bolt, but her gaze drops, and that’s when I know I’ve won this round.

When she moves, it’s with that unmistakable grace I’ve come to crave. But I see it—the cracks forming, the tension bleeding through every step. She’s walking into her own destruction, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. Yet there’s a strength to her stride that I can’t ignore, a resilience that refuses to break, and it fascinates me, holds my attention like nothing else.

At the car door, she falters. Her hesitation draws me closer, my hand brushing the curve of her waist.

A warning. Apromise.

"Second thoughts?" My voice is low, soft, as my fingers skim her spine. The slight quiver in her body feeds my hunger. "Think carefully. Not a good idea."

Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t look at me. “Why are you trying to scare me?”

“Scare you? No, Ballerina. You’re too smart for that.”

Her lips press into a tight line, and she climbs into the backseat, her movements tight, desperate for an illusion of dignity. I let herhave that—for now. I follow her, sitting closer than necessary, my leg brushing hers as the door closes. The sound seals her fate, and Monty pulls away from the curb.

She presses herself against the opposite door, her eyes fixed on the passing streetlights, their brief flashes doing nothing to soften the tension etched into her features, but it highlights something else. She might be in the car, but she hasn’t surrendered to whatever I have planned. Not yet, anyway.

"Where are we going?" Her voice is strained. She’s trying to regain control.

"You’ll see soon enough." I keep my tone light. "But don’t worry, tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

“That’s not comforting.” She looks at me, then away quickly. But not before I see the fear in her eyes.

Her reflection in the window is a study in restraint, the tension in her jaw betraying the fear she tries so hard to conceal. It’s intoxicating, watching her hold the threads of herself together while I tug at each one.

"You're tense." My hand rests on her wrist, fingers curling around it, the delicate bones trembling beneath my grip. Her pulse hammers against my thumb, a wild beat she can’t hide. “Relax, Ballerina. You’ll only make this harder for yourself.”

Her jaw tightens, her body tense as she shifts in her seat. “I’m not tense. I just … don’t want to be here.”

Her honesty is unexpected, and it draws a smile from me. “What youwantdoesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s what counts.”

I move closer. For a moment she doesn’t speak, and I savor the way her chest rises and falls, the way her fingers curl into fists in her lap. Then her head turns slightly.

“Why are you doing this? Am I some kind of game to you?”

“A game? No. Games are fun. This is … necessary.”

“Necessary forwho?”

“For both of us.”

Her lips press together. “You think you can force me intowhatever you want. Is that it?”

I laugh. “It’s not about forcing you. It’s about seeing how long you can resist.”

She looks away, gaze fixed on the road ahead, and doesn’t answer me. But her silence speaks louder than anything she could have said.

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