I practically run toward the lobby.
The rest of the workday passes in a blur. I'm so distracted I don't even register Miles's comments.
After work,I grab my gym bag from under the desk.
The bass thrums through the floorboards as I step into the dance studio. A dozen people move in sync, faces a mix of concentration and joy. I missed this. Before life got complicated, I used to dance.
“First time?”
A petite brunette with cropped hair and a bright smile appears beside me.
“Is it that obvious?”
She grins. “Only because you have the 'oh crap' look. I'm Marie. Instructor and cheerleader.”
“Emma. I'm hoping this helps me clear my head.”
“Dance has a way of doing that. Come on.”
I change quickly and join the group. Marie takes me through the warm-up. I stretch muscles I haven't used in months.
“Let's start with some basic steps,” Marie calls out.
I try to follow. My feet tangle. I lurch forward, barely catch myself before face-planting. My brain is still in that car, still feeling Kai's hand on my neck.
“You're fine,” the woman next to me whispers. “We all start somewhere.”
I force myself to keep going. Halfway through, something shifts. The music seeps into my bones. My movements feel less awkward. My body remembers what my brain forgot. How to let go.
By the end, I'm sweaty and out of breath. Thighs burn. I'm smiling.
“Same time next week?” Marie asks.
“Maybe sooner,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it.
I walk out into the cool night air, feeling more alive than I have since I arrived in Silverpoint.
CHAPTER 24
THE SHADOW
KAIDEN
The glowof my phone screen is the only light in the car. The investigator's report is brief. A grainy photo of Emma walking into The Movement Studio after work. An update that she left fifteen minutes ago. Another photo of her chatting with a brunette outside.
I told her I would wait for her to come to me.
I'm a liar.
II watch her building from across the street, engine off. I know exactly what this makes me. Controlling. Paranoid. The kind of man my father would approve of. I've been burned too many times to take chances. Brianna played me for years. My own family turned my trust into a weapon. I want to believe Emma is different. I want to believe she's real. Trust doesn't come easy, and I can't bear to walk away. So I watch.
A figure moves in the darkness of her entryway. Pulse picks up. Not Emma. A man. He's leaning against the brickwork with a proprietary slouch, like he has every right to be there.
I watch him. No one comes out to meet him. He doesn't leave.
Emma turns the corner. She's walking with a lightness that loosens something in my chest. Hair tied back, gym clothes,small smile on her face. The sight of her makes it easier to breathe.
Then she stops.
