Epilogue - In Shadows We Dance

WREN

5 YEARS LATER

The small velvet box sits between my parents on Father's mahogany desk, decades of history wrapped in burgundy silk. Five years ago, they wouldn't have been here. Five years ago, this moment would have been reduced to a brief phone call between meetings or a message passed through their assistant.

But Ileana changed everything.

I remember the first time she confronted them, her voice steady even as her hands shook.

"He deserves more than empty rooms and corporate legacies." She'd stood her ground, fierce and brave, until they finally saw what they'd been missing all these years.

Now, Mother's hands shake slightly as she opens the box, revealing the rose gold pendant that defined a legacy. There's a vulnerability in her eyes I never saw in childhood. Guilt mixed with hope, love tangled with regret.

"Alexandra wore this in every performance." Her voice catches on the memories. "From her debut as Clara to her final bow as Giselle."

Father's hand covers hers, steadying her trembling fingers. The morning light catches on the delicate ballet shoes, diamonds glinting like tears. He looks older now, softer somehow. Weekly family dinners and actual conversations have worn away the corporate mask he used to wear.

"Your grandmother would have adored Ileana, son. She would have seen what you saw from the beginning.”

"She reminds me of Alexandra," Mother adds quietly. "Not just in how she dances, but in how she fights for what matters." Her eyes meet mine, full of meaning. "For who matters."

I think of Ileana, of how she moves like she was born to dance in shadows. How she took everything dark inside me and turned it into something beautiful. And the way she managed to heal not just me, but my entire family. "Every time she dances in the old studio, I see pieces of Alexandra in her movements."

My mother stands, coming around the desk to place the box in my palm. Her fingers curl around mine, holding on longer than she would have before. "It’s time this belonged to her. Alexandra always said the right dancer would come along—someone who understood that true grace lives in the darkness between movements." She squeezes my hand. "Someone who could bring light back to this family."

The weight of the pendant stays with me throughout the day, a constant reminder of what's to come. But when night falls, and the house grows quiet, I see her creeping down the stairs and into the ballroom. She’s supposed to be sleeping, the first night we’ve spent apart since we came back home all those years ago, but it seems she’s just as restless as I am.

She moves like a shadow given form. Even after five years, watching her dance affects me the same way it did that first time I saw her—unaware of me, lost in her own world, in the school's dance studio.

I make my way down the familiar hall, the photographs on the wall whispering memories as I pass. Each one captures a moment of perfect grace, my grandmother's legacy preserved in gilt frames.

Soft music drifts through the ballroom doors. I push one open, stepping inside just enough to lean against the doorframe, my eyes never leaving her. Moonlight spills through the tall windows, painting her in silver, her black silk slip flowing against her skin. She moves with the same beauty that first made me want to possess her .

I watch from the dark, drinking in each perfect line of her body. The way she gives herself to the music, lost in a world of her own creation. But not lost to me. Never lost to me.

The sight of her makes my blood burn. Makes possession surge through my veins. Makes me want to strip away everything until there's nothing left but what belongs to me.

"Your arabesque needs work," I call out, my voice cutting through the silence.

A smile tugs at her lips, but she doesn't break her routine. "Only because you're distracting me."

I circle the edge of the ballroom, keeping pace with her movements. The shadows play tricks, reminding me of that first night she danced for me. But there's no fear in her now, no desperation to fade into the background. Just fire and grace, the kind that burns everything in its path.

Drawn to her, I step into the light. "My parents gave me something today."

She turns to face me, her movement as fluid as water. I reach into my pocket, pulling out the burgundy box and balancing it on my palm.

"What is it?" Her eyes spark with curiosity as she moves closer.

I lift the necklace free, the delicate ballet shoes catching moonlight. Her breath catches at the sight of the rose gold and diamonds.

"It was Alexandra's. She never danced without it. Said it carried the soul of every performance, every role she ever brought to life on stage."

Her eyes widen as she reaches out, fingers hovering just above the pendant.

"It’s beautiful.” Her voice catches. I've seen her stop countless times in front of my grandmother's photographs, studying the delicate pendant that always graced her throat.

"The prima ballerina of Ravencrest." I catch her hand, pressing it against the pendant. "Mother said it's time it belonged to you. You brought dance back to these halls. You brought life back to this family."

Tears shine in her eyes. "Wren, I can't ... This is too much. Your family history?—"

I turn her gently, brushing her hair aside.

"You are my family now." When I clasp the necklace around her throat, my fingers linger on her pulse, feeling it jump beneath my touch. The silk slip does nothing to hide her heat, the way she leans back into me, her body responding to my closeness.

"Dance with me," she whispers, and I know she's remembering that first night too. When fear and desire twisted together until neither of us could tell them apart.

Instead of answering, I spin her to face me, capturing her mouth with mine. She meets my intensity, her surrender never weak, never timid. She gives herself to me fully, knowing that I'll never let her go.

My hands drop to her waist, pulling her against me as I walk her backward. The cool mirror presses against her back, her skin burning beneath my hands.

"Someone might see."

"There's no one here but us." I bite where her pulse races. "And if someone is watching, let them. Let them see who you belong to."

Her fingers twist in my hair, pulling me closer instead of pushing away. She’s changed so much from the girl who used to hide, who never understood her own beauty until I showed her.

"The ceremony is in less than ten hours." My tongue teases the spot I just marked. "Having second thoughts?"

Her laugh is breathless as my hands push the silk of her slip higher. "Never. You know exactly where I belong."

There’s a challenge in her eyes, a fire that refuses to be tamed. Every touch, every kiss, every mark I leave on her skin is a reminder of how far we've come, of how completely she’s embraced the darkness we share .

"Mine." The word is a growl as I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her hand pushes beneath my waistband of my sweats and her fingers wrap around my dick. I can’t contain a groan. "Now and always."

"Yours," she whispers against my lips, pulling me closer. "But you're mine too."

She’s right. I’ve always been hers. Before my father signed over Ravencrest. Before Agent Miller tried to take her away from me. Before everything shifted into this perfect balance of possession and surrender. Before I knew she was anything but a puzzle to be solved.

Her head falls back as I claim every inch of exposed skin with my mouth. Moonlight turns the marks I leave into art, a canvas only I get to paint. The pendant at her throat catches the light, a piece of my history shared. A truth offered freely.

"Tell me." Her voice breaks on a gasp as I push inside her.

I still for a moment, and tilt my head, smiling down at her.

“Tell you what, Ballerina?”

Her fingers tighten in my hair, and her gaze turns fierce. “Tell me!”

"No one will ever cage you again." A thrust punctuates each word, drawing sounds from her that feed something primal in my blood. "You will never hide. You’ll never fade away. You’ll never become invisible. You're mine to protect now. Mine to mark. Mine to love."

The words carry more than just possession. Her nails dig into my shoulders as she gets close. Every sound she makes, every reaction she can't hide, every mark she leaves on my skin proves how far we've come from that first dance in this ballroom. This is what I saw in her from the beginning.

This fire. This grace. This perfect surrender to darkness.

When she comes, it's with my name on her lips and moonlight painting her skin silver. I follow seconds later, marking her inside and out. Claiming every piece of her existence .

Tomorrow we'll make it official, though we've belonged to each other since that first moment in the school cafeteria. Tomorrow we’ll exchange vows that can never capture the true depth of what we share.

But tonight belongs to us alone. To the ballroom where I first claimed her. To the legacy Alexandra left in photographs and paintings. To the darkness that binds us more surely than any ceremony ever could.

Some things are meant to remain in shadows. Some people are meant to dance in darkness.

And some loves are meant to burn bright enough to consume everything in their path.