41. Invitation to Darkness

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.

“Come in.”

The door swings open, and Dad steps inside, his gaze zeroing in on me immediately. “What is going on?” He doesn’t even pretend to make small talk.

“Nothing.” The word comes out too quickly.

“I don’t believe you. You’re acting strange. Distracted. Nervous. Is something going on at school?”

“It’s just school. Senior year is stressful, I told you that.”

He steps closer, and his eyes drop to my neck. My hand flies up too late to hide the bruise.

“What is that? Did someone do something to you?”

“No.” I snap the word too fast again .

“Is this what you’re hiding? Are you sneaking around with a boy?” his voice rises, and there’s no mistaking the accusation in it.

“No! I’m not doing anything.”

“Stop lying to me.” His voice bounces off the walls. “I’ve given you rules to protect you, Ileana. But this …” he gestures to the bruise on my neck. “This isn’t safe.”

“You’re not protecting me!” The words erupt before I can stop them, louder than I mean them to be. “You’re controlling me. You run my whole life! I’m not a child anymore.”

He recoils, and my face heats up. His voice is flat when he next speaks. “As long as you live under my roof, you’ll follow my rules. That includes not sneaking around, and not lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” My voice is lower now.

His expression tightens, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Dinner’s ready. Do your homework afterward.” He turns and walks out, leaving the door open behind him.

I slump against the bed, my heart hitting my ribs so hard it makes me dizzy. The fight buzzes in my ears, anger and guilt twisting my stomach.

I want to run after him, to explain.

I want to scream at him that he can’t rule my life this way. That I’m suffocating. That I’m nobody, and I can’t live like this anymore.

I want to say something that will make all this make sense.

But I don’t do any of it. Instead, I follow him out of the room, and take my place at the dinner table. Tension fills the air. Mom tries to make conversation, but her eyes move between me and Dad.

“You’ve barely touched your plate.” Mom’s voice is soft. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired. Looking forward to Fall break.”

Dad grunts, but doesn’t say anything, and I excuse myself as soon as I can, retreating back to my room. I try to study, but my gaze keeps going to my bag, to the rose inside. Finally, I give in, tossing my book aside, and cross the room. Unzipping my bag, I pull the rose out slowly, my fingers brushing over the petals. The thorns are sharp, and I run my thumb just above them, careful not to press too hard.

Why didn’t he come to school today? Why does it bother me this much?

The question burns, but what scares me more is the truth I won’t admit out loud.

I missed him.

The thought leaves me breathless. I missed the way he watches me. I missed the way his presence makes everything more vivid. I missed feeling like I was the center of his attention, no matter how terrifying it is. Without him, today felt empty.

I grip the rose tighter. I should throw it out, rip the petals from the stem and scatter them like ashes, but I don’t. Instead I walk to the window, and set the rose down on the sill.

The latch is stiff under my fingers as I unlock it and push the window open. The cold air rushes in, and I shiver.

What am I doing? Is this an invitation? A signal? Or am I just trying to prove something to myself?

I look at the rose, and my heartbeat quickens, my breathing turns shallow and uneven. Before I can second-guess myself, I pull my shirt over my head, toss it to the floor, and step closer to the open window. My fingers grip the frame, stopping myself from running.

What if he’s watching?

The question makes between my legs throb, and I squeeze my thighs together. My heart races, and I lean forward, the open window baring me to the outside world.

I want him to see me.

The thought is dizzying, stealing the breath from my lungs. My nipples tighten. Heat pools in my stomach. My heart pounds in my ears as I accept the truth I can no longer ignore.

I don’t want to be invisible anymore. Not to him. I want him to notice me, to know I’m here, waiting.

A car turns into the road, headlights moving across the building, and I jerk backward, one arm covering my breasts as I grab for the curtain and yank it closed.

My heart is thrashing against my ribs so hard, I’m sure it’s going to burst out of my chest. Fear, exhilaration, desire all converge together, leaving me jittery and breathless.

My eyes dart around the room, landing on my discarded top, and I snatch it up and tug it over my head with shaking hands. Grabbing my pajamas, I rush to the bathroom, heat burning in my cheeks as I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. The water is too hot, scalding my skin, but I don’t care. The sting is grounding, leaving me embarrassed and ashamed.

When I return to my room, the rose is still on the sill. I stare at it for a long moment.

I should move it. I shouldn’t leave it there.

My heart still hasn’t settled, and my thoughts are a tangled mess.

What have I just done? Anyone could have seen me. What if they speak to my father and tell him what they saw?

Sleep comes in fits and starts, and my dreams are no better. Wren is there. His dark eyes find me no matter where I try to hide. His voice is low, insistent, pulling me closer, wrapping around me like a tether.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I feel it—the mattress dipping beneath someone’s weight. My eyes snap open, and a hand clamps over my mouth before I can scream.

“Shhh.”