The Shadows We Dance With

Ch12: Names to Faces

The conference room at the Las Vegas precinct was filled with the quiet hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clicks of Garcia's keyboard. The team was focused, but there was an undercurrent of frustration that no one could ignore. They'd been digging into the club formerly known as Pride, hoping it would yield a lead on their unsub. Yet, as they sifted through the records, it was as if Pride had never existed. Beyond the legal documentation of the name change to Eden, there was nothing—no history, no incidents, no mentions in the press. It was as if someone had gone to great lengths to erase any trace of the club's past.

Hotch frowned as he scanned the report in front of him. "It's like the club was wiped off the map," he muttered, glancing up at Garcia. "Nothing at all? No records of complaints, inspections, nothing before 2000?"

Garcia shook her head, her bright demeanor noticeably dimmed by the lack of useful information. "Nada, Boss Man. It's like Pride just vanished. Whoever handled this rebranding was thorough. Too thorough, if you ask me."

Rossi leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table. "That's unusual. Even in a city like Vegas, clubs don't just disappear like that without a reason. Someone went out of their way to cover this up."

As the team continued discussing the dead ends they were hitting with Pride, Spencer Reid remained uncharacteristically quiet. His focus was trained on the victimology, his brow furrowed in concentration. He knew the others were frustrated with the lack of information on the club, but he was doing everything in his power to keep the conversation away from Pride and what it could mean. He had redirected the discussion a couple of times already, guiding the team back to the victims, to the unsub's behavior, anything that didn't involve the dark connections the club held in his past.

It's just a coincidence, he told himself, repeating it like a mantra. Nothing about my relationship with Pride should matter. This is about the victims. Not me.

But deep down, the cold knot of fear was tightening in his gut. The statistics didn't lie, and neither did his instincts. He could feel the truth creeping up on him, the walls closing in.

A sudden flurry of movement outside the room drew their attention. Officers were rushing down the hall, voices raised in hushed urgency. The team exchanged curious glances, and Hotch caught the eye of Chief Hayes, who was standing just outside the room. Hotch raised a questioning eyebrow, asking him a silent question.

The chief shook his head, a quick, dismissive gesture that suggested the commotion probably  had nothing to do with their case. Hotch hesitated for a moment but eventually turned back to the team, the matter put to the side for the time being.

"Let's stay focused," Hotch said, bringing the discussion back on track. "We need to figure out what connects these boys beyond the clubs. Garcia, keep digging into Eden. See if you can find any associates or regulars who might have a connection to the victims."

As the conversation continued, Spencer's mind drifted. He felt the tension building within him, the pressure of secrets he'd tried so hard to keep buried. It was becoming harder and harder to push back the memories, to ignore the signs that were pointing directly to his past.

He couldn't sit still any longer.

"I'm going to get a coffee refill," Spencer muttered, standing abruptly and heading for the door. The others barely acknowledged him, too engrossed in their discussion to notice his discomfort.

He made his way to the break room, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The precinct coffee was bitter, almost undrinkable, but it gave him something to focus on, something to occupy his hands and his thoughts.

As he poured the steaming liquid into his cup, the sound of conversation drifted from a group of officers near the entrance. It was the usual chatter, nothing out of the ordinary—until a name slipped into the air. A name Spencer had strived for years to never hear again.

"Valentino."

The name sent a jolt of electricity through Spencer's body. His hands shook, and the coffee splashed over the rim of the cup, scalding his skin. He swore under his breath, the pain snapping him out of his trance. He grabbed a napkin and hastily wiped his hand, but his mind was racing.

Valentino. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be him. But as Spencer listened more closely to the officers' conversation, dread settled into his bones, heavy and unrelenting. The details they mentioned—someone fitting his description, the recent escape—everything aligned too perfectly. Too many factors pointed to the same conclusion, the one Spencer had been trying so desperately to avoid.

He stood frozen for a moment, the realization crashing over him. If Valentino was here, in Las Vegas, it meant that everything Spencer had feared—everything he had tried to run from—was now coming back to haunt him. The face he thought he'd seen last night, the one that had haunted his nightmares for years, wasn't a figment of his imagination.

He was here.

And this time, he wasn't just a ghost from the past. He was real, and Spencer knew that he was going to come for him.

The coffee cup clattered against the counter as Spencer set it down, his hands trembling too much to hold it. He needed to compose himself, to think, to figure out how to deal with this without letting the team know the full extent of what he was facing. But the walls were closing in, and the truth was becoming impossible to deny.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic. He couldn't afford to lose control, not now. He needed to get back to the team, to keep his focus on the case—on the victims. But how long could he keep the truth at bay before it overwhelmed him completely?

As he steadied himself and returned to the conference room, the reality of his situation settled like a weight on his shoulders. Valentino was back. And this time, he wasn't just a memory—he was a threat.

Spencer had always been a man of statistics, of logic, of facts. And the facts were undeniable.

Valentino was coming for him.

And Spencer wasn't sure he could outrun him this time.