Page 36 of In Shadows We Dance

Now the hunt begins.

CHAPTER 17

Running Blind

ILEANA

Why didhe tell me to leave? Why did he let me go? Why go to all that effort to bring me here, only to send me away after less than thirty minutes?

My body aches as I hurry through the dark halls. Every muscle protests, trembling with exhaustion, with the memory of his hands on me—shaping, controlling, commanding. His touch burns like a brand, searing into my skin. A reminder that I was his in that moment. His …completely.

But he let me go.

It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense, and the wrongness of it crawls under my skin, burrowing deeper with every step.

The hallways seem different now—longer, and twisted. I try to retrace our steps, but everything blurs in the dim light. Mirrors flash by, splintering my reflection into pieces. A flushed girl with wild eyes stares back, each fragment a stranger.

Where is the front door?

A sound behind me, a faint creak, spins me around, my heart trying to escape through my throat. The hallway is empty. It’s my imagination. The aftermath of dancing in that ballroom while Wren's camera documented every moment. The phantom click of his phone camera seems to echo in my ears, a counterpoint to my racing heart. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. That the house itself is alive, its walls closing in, suffocating me.

There!The photograph-lined hallway. The black and white dancers are still there, frozen mid-performance. But their stillness feels malevolent now, their shadowed faces following my every move. The sharp lines of their poses seem twisted, mocking theway Wren made me move for him,performfor his lens.

Don't be ridiculous. He said you could go.

But why? Why make me dance, why take so much from me, only to let me leave?

I pick up my pace, the wooden floors creaking beneath my steps like they’re broadcasting my location. I pass the library, its shelves looming like silent sentinels. The dining room with its glittering chandelier. Every room feels like a trap waiting to spring.

A floorboard groans above me.

I freeze. The sound seems to reverberate through the house, stretching the silence taut. My breath catches, my body shaking, while I strain to hear anything else.

Nothing.

But the air feels wrong now. Weighted. Like the house itself is holding its breath, waiting to see if I'll make it out.

Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t a horror movie.

The front door finally appears ahead, moonlight filtering through its glass panels. Relief floods through me, propelling me forward. I grab the handle and twist.

It turns too easily.

Cool night air hits my face, and I step outside. The door closes behind me with a soft click that echoes like a death knell.

Stars glitter in the sky, but the moon is a thin crescent, its weak light swallowed by the encroaching trees. The driveway stretches ahead, curving away into darkness. Trees loom on either side, their branches twisting and arching upwards.

Which way is town?

I don’t remember. Everything looked different in the car. I was too focused on Wren's presence beside me. His leg brushing mine, his breath warm against my ear, the way his words curled around me like a noose.

Movement shifts in the corner of my eye—a shape detaching itself from the darkness near the house. It moves with deliberate slowness, like it knows exactly how this will end.

Run.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. My body moves before my mind catches up, my legs burning as I sprint down the drive. The thin satin of the ballet shoes offers no protection. Each step sends pain shooting through my feet.

"Look at those legs move." A voice calls from close by.NotWren’s. The words are low and mocking, dripping with cruel amusement. "Bet I can catch them. Bet I can break them."

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