Wrong person 267

Posted by ADMINMMADMIN, ? Views, Released on August 18, 2025

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Chapter 267: Boomer

I don’t move when the curtain drops.

I don’t breathe. Don’t speak. Don’t even try.

Because I’m not ready for it to be over. For the spell to break. For the silence that fell when she landed that final leap to stop echoing through my chest.

Everyone around me is just as still. Rooster’s got his hand covering his mouth, and Asher–stoic, unshakable Asher–hasn’t said a word since Penny stepped onto the stage. His hands are on his knees, tight fists like he’s holding something back. Like if he doesn’t ground himself, he might float right out of his chair.

And honestly? I get it.

Because what we just witnessed?

I don’t think I’ll ever see anything like it again.

I’ve never been to a ballet before. Never cared to. I thought it was a bunch of girls twirling around in tutus, waving their arms in the air. Fancy. Elegant. Not really my thing.

But I was wrong.

So damn wrong.

Penny didn’t twirl. She didn’t float. She soared. She moved like a weapon disguised in silk. Like something forged in light and emotion, built for no other reason than to leave people breathless. Her body told a story without needing a single word. Her face, her eyes, the curve of her fingers, the way her feet sliced through air like it was butter–it all said something I didn’t even know how to name.

When she stepped on stage in that blue costume–soft baby blue with little sparkles like stars trapped in ice–I actually forgot how to swallow. She looked like something out of a dream. Not even real. Like she’d stepped out of some storybook where angels danced instead of flew. The way the lights hit her? She glittered. Every movement caught the shimmer in the fabric, and it wasn’t just pretty, it was unreal. Like she was part of the lighting, part of the music.

She wasn’t just in the performance.

She was the performance.

I’d seen her before, of course. Around Asher. At little moments here and there during that week where I brought her to rehearsals. I knew she was talented, but this? This was something else entirely. This was mastery. This was devotion. This was the kind of thing people dedicate their whole

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Chapter 267: Boomer

lives to, and even then, most still never make it to where she just stood.

And the way she moved?

Like it was easy. Effortless. But I know better. I know what it looks like when someone trains themselves past pain. Past fatigue. Past human limits.

Because that’s what we do in the military.

We break, and we rebuild stronger.

And she had that same thing in her. That fire. That refusal to quit. The way she extended her leg in an arabesque that looked like it could stretch all the way to heaven and didn’t flinch. The way she spun without wobble. Landed without sound. Like her feet didn’t belong to the rest of us anymore.

And then there was Luc.

God.

Luc was tall. Bigger thighs than me, which isn’t something I admit lightly. Shoulders thin but strong like he could hold up a roof. The guy was all lean muscles. But when he moved? It was like silk on

water. Effortless. Controlled. He picked Penny up like she weighed nothing–one hand, arm extended

above his head–and tossed her into the air like she was made of feathers.

And then caught her like it was second nature.

Like she was gravity–bound to him.

I’ve trained with weapons. I’ve sparred with the best. I know what controlled strength looks like. And that man was a machine. But not a loud one. A quiet, respectful kind of power. One built to protect, not dominate. One that moved with intention, not ego.

I couldn’t look away.

And then, just when I thought I was already gone…, Mila stepped on stage.

Mila.

She didn’t say anything about this part. Just a shrug and a “yeah, I’m dancing too” when I asked earlier in the week. She didn’t even seem excited. Didn’t act like it was a big deal.

She lied.

Because it was everything..

She didn’t take center stage the way Penny did. She moved in the background, weaving between

Chapter 267: Boomer

dancers, adding color, emotion, story. But even then… she shined. Not like glitter or flash or loud makeup, but like restraint. Like grace. Like control I didn’t know she was even capable of. She’s always wild. Loud. Sharp. Witty.

But on that stage?

She was like a breeze. Quiet. Powerful. Uncatchable.

Every gesture, every turn, every graceful slide across the floor–it was like watching her from a new angle. A softer one. And I don’t know if I’m supposed to say this, but I kind of fell for her all over again right there.

Because the Mila I know could set a room on fire with just one sarcastic comment.

But this Mila?

She could rebuild the world with just a dance..

And I watched her do it.

I watched both of them–Penny and Mila–show the world what it means to belong to something. To command a stage without needing to shout. To scream with beauty. With movement. With light.

I’m not a guy who cries.

But I felt it, deep in my chest.

And I knew–just from glancing left and right–that every single person in the first row felt the same thing. Asher, holding his breath like he’s afraid if he breathes too loud it’ll break the moment. Penny’s mom, clinging to her husband with tears down her cheeks. Max whispering “dude” over and over like it’s the only word left in his vocabulary.