The Shadows We Dance With

Ch25: The Return of Shadows

The room was cold and dark, a stark contrast to the heat that throbbed through Spencer Reid's body. His head pounded with a relentless ache, the pain radiating from the point of impact where he had been struck. When did that happen? He doesn't remember being hit. He tried to move, but the restraints around his wrists and ankles bit into his skin, keeping him bound to the chair he was strapped to. The ropes were tight, expertly tied, leaving no room for escape. Val must've moved him from the cot while he was out, when did he fall asleep?

Spencer's vision was blurry, the edges of his world smeared and indistinct. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his sight, but the haze refused to lift entirely. He was vaguely aware of the faint, rhythmic sound of water dripping somewhere in the background, the occasional creak of old wood, and the low hum of distant machinery.

But above all, he was aware of the presence in the room with him. Valentino Marino. The name echoed in Spencer's mind like a taunt, bringing with it memories he had fought so hard to bury. Memories of a time when he had been vulnerable, naive, and under the control of a man who had taken everything from him.

Slowly, Spencer's vision began to sharpen, and he forced himself to focus on his surroundings. The room was small and bare, with concrete walls and a single, dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. There were no windows, no visible means of escape. It was a place designed to keep someone hidden, to keep them trapped. He was in the same room as before so at least there's that.

And then, there was Valentino.

He was standing just a few feet away, his posture relaxed, one hand in the pocket of his tailored pants. His face was calm, almost serene, as if this was just another day in his life—another day of manipulating and controlling the people around him. But his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes, were fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made his skin crawl.

"Angel," Valentino said softly, the name slipping from his lips like a dark caress. "c'mon now, wake up."

Spencer shuddered at the sound of the name, a name that no longer belonged to him. Valentino had given him that name, had shaped him into the persona of "Angel"—a puppet to be controlled, a dancer to be admired, and, when the time came, something far worse.

But Spencer wasn't Angel anymore. He had escaped that life, had fought his way back to himself with the help of Harry and the police. He had buried Angel deep inside, where he thought Valentino could never reach him again.

Yet here he was, trapped once more in the web of a man who had once had complete power over him.

"You're wasting your time," Spencer croaked, his voice rough from disuse and dehydration. "I already told you, I'm not that person anymore, Valentino. You can't control me."

Valentino's smile was slow, deliberate, as if Spencer's defiance amused him. "You've always been so strong, Angel. Even when you were just a boy, you had a will that intrigued me, drew me to you. But don't mistake your time away for freedom. You never escaped me. You were always mine."

Spencer swallowed hard, the bile rising in his throat as Valentino's words washed over him. The years had done little to dull the man's ability to get inside his head, to twist his thoughts until he couldn't tell where they ended and Valentino's began.

But he wouldn't give in. Not this time.

"I'm not yours," Spencer said, his voice firmer now, even as his heart pounded in his chest. "I was never yours. You manipulated me, groomed me, but I broke free. I've spent my life rebuilding myself, becoming someone you can't touch."

Valentino's eyes darkened, his smile fading as he took a step closer. "You're wrong, Angel. You were always mine. From the moment you first stepped into my studio, I knew you were special. You had a light inside you, a beauty that was unmatched. And I nurtured that light, shaped it, made you into something extraordinary."