Page 79 of In Shadows We Dance

The more I dig, the clearer it becomes. This wasn’t just an operation. This was love tangled with betrayal. A federal agent, a mafia princess, a child they would do anything to protect. A secret hidden so deeply that only a fool or someone obsessed would try to find it.

My phone lights up again.

Nico: She's leaving school. Looks terrified.

Perfect. Let her run. Let her scurry back to that safe little hole she calls home, wondering if I’m following her. Wondering ifI’m just out of sight, ready to pounce. The image forms in my mind. Her rushing through the school gates, eyes darting, wide with panic. I can almost hear her breath hitching, see her hands trembling as she grips her bag strap tighter, her knuckles pale.

I lean back, satisfaction thrumming in my veins. This is better than any photograph, almost better than watching her dance. Each secret I uncover, each truth, draws me closer to her.

She isn’t just some passing amusement.

When was she ever that?

Never. She’s a mystery. One that I need to solve, to understand fully. It isn’t just about her being invisible. It’s about her being untouchable, protected by ghosts of a past that could still ruin her.

I stand, the chair creaking as I push it back. The glow from the screens makes my reflection in the window look almost inhuman, a shadowy figure with too many secrets and too much desire. My reflection stares back, the darkness of my eyes mirrored in the empty window.

The house is quiet, the kind of silence that feels heavy, expectant. My parents aren’t home—they never are. They prefer their parties, their events, their perfect social lives. I don’t miss them. This silence is better. It gives me space to think, to plan.

I walk to the window, pushing it open. The cold October air hits me. I can imagine her now, in her small apartment, pulling the curtains shut, trying to pretend that I’m not out here somewhere. I wonder if she’s scared of the dark. If she thinks shadows hide monsters.

"Run home, pretty Ballerina." My voice is a whisper, lost to the breeze. "Pull your curtains tight. Pretend you’re safe."

Because I own her now. Not just her fear, or her unwilling desire, but every lie that’s ever surrounded her. Every secret they used to make Isabella Rossi disappear. Every truth they buried to keep her hidden.

I close the window, the cool metal frame pressing against mypalms. My breath fogs the glass momentarily before vanishing, leaving only my reflection. I picture her face. Those wide, dark eyes staring up at me, the way her lips parted when I leaned in too close, that intoxicating blend of fear and curiosity.

She’ll soon learn that the darkness isn’t just something outside her window. It’s something inside her now, something that will keep growing until there’s no turning back. Because the truth about her past, about who she really is, isn’t just a story to tell.

It’s a weapon, and I’m going to wield it.

A new message lights up my phone. I glance down at it, a smile already forming.

Monty: What do you want us to do now?

I type my response slowly, savoring each word.

Me: Nothing. Let her stew.

My plan has shifted from those first few days. It’s no longer about fear or control. It’s about knowledge. Let her wonder what every move means, until she can’t think about anything else. It's only a matter of time before the need for answers consumes her. And when it does? I’ll be the only one who can provide them.

I put the phone into my pocket and look back at the screens, each one glowing with the secrets I’ve unearthed.

Her secrets aremysecrets now.

CHAPTER 41

Invitation to Darkness

ILEANA

The apartment feels different tonight.The walls seem to breathe, the shadows deeper and darker than usual, like they’re waiting for something to happen. The floorboards groan beneath my pacing, each creak scraping against my nerves. The silence is too loud, the air too still, and nothing feels right.

Wren didn’t come to school today.

The thought circles endlessly in my head. The black rose in my bag hasn’t left my mind. It’s there, waiting, a promise I don’t fully understand. I can’t bring myself to throw it away, even though I should. Its presence is magnetic, terrifying, and impossible to ignore.

Footsteps break the silence, moving down the hallway, and stopping outside my door. I hold my breath, waiting for the knock. When it comes, it’s firm and loud.

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