62. Patterns in Shadows

CHAPTER 62

Patterns in Shadows

WREN

Sleep eludes me, but it’s not the typical restlessness that keeps my mind racing. The emptiness of Ileana’s apartment tears at something deeper than obsession. The roses on the floor, the ballet shoes placed just so. Every detail sears itself behind my eyelids, a thorn I can’t extract.

My muscles throb from hours hunched over my surveillance setup, but I force myself to focus. The car crash footage loops on my main screen. The angle of impact, absence of skid marks, that figure disappearing into the trees. It’s a mystery that should consume me. This kind of puzzle used to ignite my blood, driving me through sleepless nights until I unraveled every thread.

But my thoughts keep circling back to those roses.

The placement itches at my mind like an unsolved riddle, something left for me to untangle. The shoes in third position, aligned with such care, as if frozen mid-dance. Black satin ribbons trailing across the hardwood like she’s daring me to follow.

The roses. The same black ones I gave her. Fragile symbols now twisted into something more. Symbols of her strength. There’s something about the way they were placed. It makes me wonder if there’s more to it. It’s got to be more than coincidence. But what? It’s driving me crazy not knowing.

I lean back, my fingers drumming against the desk, the rhythm syncing with my racing pulse.

It means something .

She knew I’d notice, knew it would haunt me until I unraveled it.

My clever ballerina.

There’s something beautiful in that. The way her mind works. The way she’s come to know me, to anticipate me. The realization doesn’t unsettle me like it should. It pulls at something deeper, something I can’t name yet.

A growl rumbles low in my chest as Agent Miller’s smirk slithers into my mind. His satisfaction at taking her, at making her vanish.

They think they’ve won. That they can make her disappear. Cut her off from me.

I won’t let them.

My eyes go back to the footage playing on the screen.

Students rushing from the building, phones raised. Chaos engineered to perfection, every eye drawn exactly where someone intended.

Those fucking roses.

My jaw clenches, tension winding tight enough to make my head throb. The emptiness she’s left behind gnaws at me, each second another twist of a knife.

I need answers.

I need her .

A cramp knots my neck as I jerk upright.

North west.

The realization strikes like lightning, electricity surging through my veins. Maps flood my screens, possibilities crystalizing into something real. They wouldn’t risk going east. Too many major cities, too much surveillance. South leads to borders and complications they’d want to avoid.

But north west.

A fierce pride courses through me. She’s created a compass rose. The perfect clue. She knew I’d see it, knew I’d understand. I picture her dancing in my ballroom, in the school’s dance studio … the precision, the flawless execution. Just like the damn clue she’s left me.

She’s left me the first step to follow her.

Pride gives way to something sharper. Something dangerously close to admiration.

I drive my fist against the desk, monitors rattling at the impact. The ache in my knuckles barely registers as I drag my focus back to the screens. Cities, towns, and routes begin to take shape. They’ll hide her somewhere remote enough to disappear, but not too far from civilization. Small enough to go unnoticed. Somewhere they think I won't look.

Somewhere similar to Silverlake Rapids …

The search narrows as I input variables. Population under seven thousand. Remote but functional. An hour’s drive from any major city. My tracking software updates, scanning possible routes. The roses gave me a direction, but not distance. They could be anywhere from the next state to the Canadian border.

It’s a puzzle, and I’m putting the pieces into place, one by one.

Agent Miller’s words crawl back into my head, laced with contempt.

Stay away. Let her go. Find someone else to play with .

Like she’s nothing. Like she’s just another girl. Just another toy.

The thought sends rage through me, hot and violent. My fist slams down again, the pain a fleeting satisfaction. The memory of her dancing fills my mind. Her fire, her defiance, the way she blazed to life under my attention. The thought steadies me.

They don’t understand. They can’t.

Because this isn’t just possession anymore.

My fingers pause on the keyboard, the screens flickering as data pours in, while a truth I didn’t expect settles over me.

She trusts me .

The thought stops me cold.

I picture the roses again. The shoes. It wasn’t just a clue to her direction. It was a challenge. A message. A choice .

She’s trusting me to follow her. To find her. The way I promised I would.

It shakes me, winds around me, burrows deep into my chest, right where I thought nothing could touch. I don’t even recognize the person I was when I first saw her. Back then, she was prey. Something to chase, to corner, to torment. Now ?

Now she’s something I can’t afford to lose.

The crash footage continues its endless loop, the perfect misdirection, the background to the realizations playing out in my head.

The clue she left isn’t just a cry for help. It’s a promise. A declaration. She’s not running away from me. She’s pulling me to her. And I’ll follow.

I’ll always follow.

Let them think they’ve won. Let Miller and his team believe they’ve taken her away from me. They don’t understand the game we’re playing. They don’t understand us .

My custom software scans cameras, traffic data, weather reports. Every tool, every resource I have focuses on her. Her strength. Her mind. Her choice.

She’s not prey anymore.

She’s my partner in this. My equal. My clever, reckless mafia princess who knew exactly what she was doing when she left those roses behind.

They don’t understand what lengths I’ll go to reclaim what’s mine.

She’s more than a fixation now. She’s become vital, like oxygen, like blood, like the darkness we both crave. The realization should make me want to walk away. Instead, it brings clarity.

Sharp. Focused. Absolute.

No federal interference, no protective father, no chaos will keep me from following the path she’s left.

North west.

Time to hunt.

Time to show everyone exactly what happens when they try to take someone who wants me to catch them.