The Shadows We Dance With

Ch20: In The Darkness

Spencer's world was a blur of pain and confusion as he slowly came to. His head throbbed, each pulse sending a wave of nausea through his body. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright, piercing through the fog in his mind like a knife. He groaned softly, trying to move, but his limbs felt heavy, uncooperative.

As he slowly regained consciousness, memories began to filter back in—fragmented, disjointed. He remembered running, the panic that had gripped him, the feeling of being watched. And then... darkness. The realization that something was terribly wrong settled over him like a shroud.

When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, the first thing he noticed was the room. It was dimly lit, the walls bare and cold, with a faint smell of mildew lingering in the air. He was lying on a hard surface, a makeshift cot that did little to cushion his aching body. Panic surged through him as he realized he was bound, his wrists tied together with coarse rope that bit into his skin.

He struggled to sit up, but the effort sent a sharp pain through his side, forcing him to stop. Spencer's breath came in ragged gasps as he fought against the panic rising in his chest. He tried to focus, to push through the fog in his mind, but every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body.

Where am I? The question echoed in his mind, but no answers came. All he knew was that he had been taken, and whoever had him wasn't going to let him go easily.

He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, but the fear was overwhelming. He had faced danger before—serial killers, hostage situations—but this felt different. This felt personal. And deep down, he knew why.

Valentino.

The name surfaced in his mind like a dark specter, bringing with it a flood of memories he had tried so hard to forget. Memories of the dance studio, of Valentino's touch, his voice, the way he had manipulated and controlled Spencer during his most vulnerable years. Spencer had spent years burying those memories, trying to move past the trauma that had shaped his adolescence. But now, it seemed, the past had come back to claim him.

He forced himself to focus on the present, to assess his situation. The room was small, with no windows and only one door—a heavy, metal door that looked like it hadn't been opened in years. The walls were bare, the floor concrete, and the only light came from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the room.

Spencer tested the ropes around his wrists, wincing as the rough fibers dug into his skin. They were tight, expertly tied, and he knew there was no way he could free himself without help. His mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but every scenario ended in the same place—with him trapped, helpless, at the mercy of a man who had once held him in his thrall.

He shuddered at the thought, a cold sweat breaking out across his skin. He had escaped Valentino once, with Harry's help, but now... now he was alone. And Valentino was here. He could feel it in his bones, the dread settling deep in his gut. Valentino had found him, and this time, he wasn't going to let him go.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door creaked open, the sound sending a jolt of fear through Spencer's body. He tensed, every muscle in his body screaming at him to run, to fight, but he was trapped, helpless. All he could do was watch as the door slowly swung open, revealing a figure standing in the doorway.

Valentino Marino.

He looked older than Spencer remembered, his once dark hair now streaked with gray, but the same cold, calculating eyes stared back at him. Eyes that had haunted Spencer's nightmares for years. Valentino stepped into the room, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment.

"Angel," he said softly, his voice sending a shiver down Spencer's spine. "It's been a long time."

Spencer swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm, to keep the panic at bay. He wouldn't give Valentino the satisfaction of seeing him afraid, even though fear was coursing through his veins like ice.

"What do you want, Valentino?" Spencer's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Valentino's smile widened, a cruel twist of his lips that made Spencer's stomach churn. "Isn't it obvious? I want you back, Angel. I want to finish what we started."

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the reality of the situation crashing over him like a tidal wave. He had known, deep down, that this day might come, that Valentino might find him again. But he had hoped—prayed—that it never would.

"You're wasting your time," Spencer said, his voice firmer now, despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "I'm not the person I used to be. You can't control me anymore."

Valentino's smile faltered for a moment, a flash of anger passing over his face before he regained his composure. "We'll see about that," he said quietly, stepping closer to the cot. "You and I, we have a lot of catching up to do."

Spencer recoiled as Valentino reached out, his hand brushing against Spencer's cheek. The touch was cold, familiar, and it took every ounce of willpower for Spencer not to flinch away. He couldn't show weakness, couldn't let Valentino see how much this was affecting him.

"I've missed you, Angel," Valentino whispered, his voice soft, almost tender. "You were always my favorite."

Spencer's skin crawled at the words, memories of the past flooding back in vivid detail. He could still feel the way Valentino's hands had roamed over his body, the way he had whispered those same words in his ear, manipulating him, controlling him. He had been so young, so naive, and Valentino had taken advantage of that, shaping him into something he wasn't.

But Spencer wasn't that boy anymore. He was stronger now, smarter. He had fought his way out of the darkness once, and he would do it again. No matter what it took.

"You're a monster," Spencer said, his voice trembling with anger. "I'm not your Angel anymore. I'm not yours at all."

Valentino's eyes darkened, his expression hardening as he gripped Spencer's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You'll always be mine," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "No matter how far you run, no matter how much you try to forget, you'll always be mine."

Spencer's heart raced, his mind scrambling for a way out, a way to escape. But there was no escape, not yet. He had to bide his time, had to wait for the right moment. He had to survive.

Valentino released his grip, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. "We have plenty of time to get reacquainted," he said, turning to leave the room. "Don't go anywhere, Angel."

The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the small room. Spencer was left alone, his heart pounding, his mind racing. He knew he had to stay strong, had to find a way out. But the fear was overwhelming, threatening to pull him under.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. He wasn't a helpless child anymore. He was an FBI agent, a profiler. He knew how to think, how to strategize. And he would use every skill he had to get out of this alive.

But as he sat there, bound and alone in the darkness, the memories of his past clawed at him, threatening to drag him back into the abyss he had fought so hard to escape.

And for the first time in years, Spencer Reid wasn't sure if he was strong enough to fight his way out again.