Page 30 of In Shadows We Dance

My blood turns to ice.

The tapping becomes more insistent, harder, like a nail dragging across the edges of my sanity.

No. Not now. Please, no.

I freeze, my heart pounding so hard it drowns out everything else. He taps again, each sound like a promise. My body trembles, but this time, it’s not just fear. It’s anger, too, bubbling beneath the surface.

How dare he?

With trembling fingers, I pull back the curtain. Wren leans against the glass, half-shadowed, his eyes locked on mine. His expression is calm, but there’s something in his gaze that chills me—dark, unrelenting amusement. He's enjoying this—watching me squirm, savoring every second of my reaction.

"Come out," he mouths through the glass. "Now."

I shake my head, backing away. My stomach twists, a mess of fear and fury warring inside me. I don’t want to play this game, but the rules are his, and I don't know how to change them.

His knuckles rap against the window again. Each tap is louder, vibrating through the silence of the room, as if he's knocking on my soul. His eyes never leave mine as his fingers drag down the glass, leaving a faint streak, a mark that feels like a scar.

I square my shoulders, trying to steady my breathing. Hewantsme to panic. The thought forces me to pause, to hold his gaze, and pretend I’m not shaking inside. But Wren’s eyes glint, dark and knowing, and I get the distinct impression he can see right through me.

"If you don't come out, pretty Ballerina." His voice cuts through the glass, clear and terrifying. "I'm coming in. Even if I have to break the window to do it."

My fingers curl into fists. “You wouldn’t.”

His smile deepens, turns almost playful. “Wouldn’t I?” He steps back, hands pushing into his pockets, but there’s no mistaking the threat in his posture. “Maybe I’ll just have anotherchat with Daddy dearest instead. Tell him all about your little dance performances.”

My heart stops. If Dad finds out about the dancing—about how I've been lying about staying after school to study …

"Wait!" My hands fumble with the window latch, fingers clumsy but determined.

The window opens with a faint squeak that sounds deafening in the quiet night. Before I can change my mind, I swing my legs over the sill. The ground isn't far—one small mercy of living on the first floor—but my bare feet still sting when they hit the cold concrete.

Wren's hand closes around my arm the instant I straighten, his grip like iron. I try to pull free. His fingers tighten.

"Good girl." His voice drips with satisfaction. The praise sends an unwanted shiver down my spine. "For a minute there, I thought I'd have to make good on my threat."

"What do you want?" My voice is low, but I’m proud of how steady it is. I meet his gaze head-on, fighting not to look away.

His laugh is soft, almost mocking. "Haven't you figured it out yet?" His grip tightens as he pulls me deeper into the shadows, his fingers digging into my skin. "What I want is too long a list to share standing out here."

“Then why are you here? Why have you dragged me out into the street?”

Wren’s eyes narrow. “Oh, we’re not staying here.” He inclines his head toward the road.

I follow his gaze and see a black car idling at the end of the street. Even from here, I can make out two figures inside.

My heart skips a beat. “Who is in the car?”

“You’ll find out.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Of course you are. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”

“What if I scream?”

He laughs. “Go ahead.”

I glance at the car again. My pulse thunders in my ears. I shouldn't have come out. I've made a terrible mistake.

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