Page 49 of In Shadows We Dance

His grin is knowing. "Already arranged. Nico's handling it."

Perfect. Privacy is exactly what I need.

I follow her into the hallway, my eyes tracking her as she weaves through the crowd. She’s trying to disappear, to blend in, but she stands out to me. She could be in a sea of thousands, and I’d still be able to pick her out.

She thinks she has a choice about meeting me, but she doesn’t. She never did. Not since that first day when she stepped into my path. Everything since then has been inevitable. Each step, each moment leading us here.

Mine.

The bell rings again, signaling the start of the next period. The halls empty quickly, leaving me alone. I’ve lost sight of her for now, but it doesn’t matter. Anticipation builds with every step, electricity humming under my skin.

Will she come willingly? Or will I have to hunt her down again?

Either way, I win.

Because if she comes on her own, it means she's already starting to break. And if she doesn’t?

Well, I’ve always enjoyed a good chase.

CHAPTER 25

Sanity’s Edge

ILEANA

The hallways are suffocating,every corner a potential ambush. I can't go to the library—that's too obvious. The dance studio is worse. It might as well have his name carved into the door now. Every second I spend deciding where to hide is another second he could appear, catching me off guard.

My feet carry me toward the auditorium before my mind even catches up. I pray the door isn't locked. When I reach it, the handle turns easily, and it swings open beneath my palm. The morning sun filters through the high windows, casting strange, fragmented patterns across the empty rows of seats. Forgotten props and sets huddle in the corners, wrapped in dust and silence. The space feels huge, yet the feeling of claustrophobia doesn’t leave me.

I walk through the heavy door beside the stage, and into the narrow passage leading backstage. It smells of ancient velvet curtains and aging wood. The drama club won't be here until later. Until then, the maze of discarded scenery will create the perfect refuge.

Winding through the clutter, I find a corner where a piece of scenery meets the wall, its canvas draped like a curtain. From here, I can see anyone approaching, but I’m hidden from view, cocooned in dim light and stillness. My breathing slows as I press my back against the wall, but my thoughts won’t quiet.

Wren’s mouth on mine—his kiss from last night—burns fresh in my memory. The shock of his hands on my breasts. The way he pulled up my top. The gleam in his eyes when he looked at me.

That was my first kiss. My first anything.

The shock of it hits me all over again.

My fingers touch my lips, the sensation of his mouth on mine still vivid. I’ve never ... no one has ever ... and he justtookit. As if it was hisright. Like I belonged to him.

Anger flares, quick and hot, but fear swallows it just as fast. I don't have time to dwell on stolen firsts, or the way his touch made me feel. Not when he could be hunting me right now, closing in with every passing second.

Minutes tick by. Each breath feels too loud in the heavy silence. The warning bell rings, signaling five minutes until the next period. Relief flutters in my chest—maybe he won’t find me here. Maybe he’ll give up.

A door creaks open, the sound reverberating through the empty auditorium. My body tenses. I press my lips together, holding my breath. Footsteps echo, coming closer. Slow. Measured. Too loud in the empty space. The hollow sound shifts as they step onto the stage.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” Wren’s voice is soft, yet it sends a shiver down my spine.

I press myself deeper into the corner, wishing I could disappear.

"You weren’t in the studio." His voice is laced with mock patience. "Not in the library. Clever girl. You’re learning."

Something shifts on the stage, the dull scrape of wood dragging across wood. He’s checking behind props, his movements unhurried, methodical, like a predator circling its prey. I picture him, stalking through the auditorium, searching every possible hiding spot with that single-minded focus I’ve come to fear … and anticipate.

"But here’s what you don’t understand." His voice is closer now. "The more you run, the more fascinating you become. The more I want to find you."

The curtain nearest to me shifts slightly. I hold still, too afraid to even blink.

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