Chapter One

T he stench of cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes assaulted Kitty's nostrils as she slouched in the grimy bar booth. Her fingers traced the deep scratches on her forearm, still livid against her pale skin. Six months, and they hadn't faded. Neither had the memories. Neither had her notoriety.

Justice for Brutus! was still a trending hashtag.

And she was a meme for failure and ridicule.

She’d lost her job, her lover, her friends, and her home.

But she missed her lions most of all.

Kitty's gaze fell to her chipped nail polish, once a vibrant red, now peeling and faded. Just like her dreams. She tugged at the hem of her worn tank top, suddenly self-conscious of how it clung to her curves. Once, she'd reveled in the attention her body drew. Now, she wished she could disappear.

She had been an animal trainer. Of course, the circus she had performed at called her a lion tamer. She had been their social media star with her sexy outfits and her garish makeup vids. But it was her show inside the ring that had brought people into the circus. The circus had touted her as the new Siegfried and Roy. There had been talk about her taking her show to Vegas.

The jukebox in the corner crackled to life, a mournful country song filling the air. Kitty closed her eyes, letting the melancholy tune wash over her. For a moment, she imagined herself back in the ring as she guided her beloved lions through their routine. Brutus, majestic and powerful. Nala and Sarabi, lithe and graceful, they were all magical together.

A sob caught in her throat. God, she missed them.

Her fingers itched to look up what had happened to them after the accident. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was terrified of what she might find.

"Hey, ain't you that lion lady?"

Kitty's head snapped up, the illusion shattered. A man with a patchy beard and bloodshot eyes swayed before her, pointing an unsteady finger.

"The one who let that cat maul that fella. Saw it on YouTube."

Bile rose in Kitty's throat, bitter and burning. She gripped her glass tighter, knuckles whitening. "You don't know what you're talking about," she growled, her voice hoarse from disuse and too much whiskey.

The man's face twisted into a leer. "Sure I do. You're that Wylde woman. The one who can't control her pussy—"

"Leave me alone," Kitty snarled, rising to her full height. For a moment, she felt it again – the power, the command. The man must have sensed it too. He retreated, muttering curses.

As the adrenaline faded, reality crashed back. Heads turned, whispers rippled. Kitty slumped back into the booth, the familiar weight of shame and anger settling on her shoulders. She hugged herself, suddenly cold despite the bar's stuffy warmth.

"That's enough, Wylde," the bartender called. "Time to hit the road."

Kitty didn't argue. She tossed some crumpled bills on the table and stumbled out into the night. The cool air hit her like a slap, clearing some of the funk of depression and self-pity.

Her truck sat alone in the parking lot, a rusted hulk that had seen better days. Just like her. Kitty fumbled with the keys, cursing as she dropped them in a puddle. The splash echoed in the empty lot, a sad punctuation to her fumbling attempts.

As she bent to retrieve them, a flash of color caught her eye. A poster danced in the wind and came to rest by her scuffed boots. 'Twisted Carnival,' it proclaimed in lurid letters. 'Where Dreams and Nightmares Collide. This weekend only.' There was an address written on the bottom. It wasn’t too far away.

What were the chances they needed a lion tamer?

What were the chances that they never heard of her?

Slim to none.

And yet ...

Kitty straightened, keys forgotten. Something about the image tugged at her. The promises it whispered. A new start. A place where her past might not matter.

A place where she might belong again.

Maybe she could do carnie work until she got back on her feet. Maybe she could find a new family. One who wouldn’t dump her at the first sign of trouble.

Maybe even a new love.

Pain jolted through her.

Somehow she doubted that she’d ever love again. Not after Marco’s betrayal. But the other stuff? It was worth a shot. What was the worst they could do? Kick her out on her ass?

Been there. Done that.

Decision made, Kitty snatched up her keys. She plugged the address into her GPS. The truck's engine coughed to life, and she peeled out of the lot, leaving behind nothing but tire marks and the lingering echo of failure and ridicule.

The highway stretched before her, a ribbon of black in the gathering gloom. Kitty's hands clenched the wheel, her mind racing faster than the truck ever could. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on the road ahead.

Images flashed through her mind, as vivid as the day it happened. The chatter of the crowd, the smell of popcorn and the thrill of waiting to step into the spotlight. Brutus, magnificent in the center ring, his golden coat gleaming under the spotlights. The routine had been going perfectly. Until it all went to shit.

A man who had been sitting in the front row, standing when he should have stayed seated, waved his arms, shouting something she couldn't make out over the music. Then all of a sudden, he had a Tomahawk steak in his hands. Was he crazy? Had he had a death wish? Brutus, distracted, eyed the man and the meat that had been dripping juice into the ring. And then...

Chaos. Screams. The metallic tang of blood in the air.

Kitty blinked hard, forcing the memories away. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she angrily wiped them away. Crying wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't bring back her career, her reputation. Her lions.

God, her lions. What had happened to them after? The thought of Brutus, Nala, and Sarabi locked away in some sterile zoo enclosure made her chest ache. Or worse, put down because of one stupid man who should have known better. He had wanted to pet the lions.

Pet them.

Lured them in with a steak.

He lost his arm.

It happened so damned fast.

She almost lost her arm trying to get Brutus back under control. The claw marks he left pulsed with a phantom pain.

The nasal voice of the GPS told her to take the next exit. Once off the highway, she was directed to take a narrow road that wound through a dense forest. Branches scraped against the truck's sides like grasping fingers. The darkness was broken only by the weak glow of Kitty's headlights. She leaned forward, straining to see through the dirty windshield.

The trees pressed close on either side, their leaves rustling in a wind she couldn't feel. It reminded her of the way Brutus would huff softly before a performance, his warm breath tickling her neck as she prepared to step into the ring. The memory sent a pang through her heart.

Just as she was beginning to think the GPS had gotten her hopelessly lost, the trees parted. Kitty's breath caught in her throat.

Before her sprawled the Twisted Carnival. Tents of various sizes dotted a muddy field, their once-bright colors now faded and stained. Strange, twisted shapes loomed in the shadows. The Ferris wheel stood motionless, its weather-beaten cars swaying slightly in the breeze, chains creaking ominously. The merry-go-round was a study in decay, its chipped and faded animals frozen in a macabre dance, their glass eyes reflecting the dim light with an unsettling gleam.

As she killed the engine, an eerie silence fell. No calliope music, no chatter of crowds. Just a low, throbbing hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It vibrated in her chest, setting her teeth on edge.

Kitty's hand trembled as she reached for the door handle. What was she doing here? What did she hope to find in this godforsaken place?

But she was out of options. Out of time. Out of hope.

With a deep breath, Kitty stepped out of the truck and into the unknown. The mud sucked at her shoes, threatening to pull them off with each step as she walked through the temporary gates. A sickly-sweet smell hung in the air – cotton candy mixed with something darker, something wrong. It reminded her of decay, of things best left buried.

As she drew closer to the main tent, Kitty became aware of other sounds. The creak of metal, as if the rides were shifting in their sleep. A distant, keening wail that might have been the wind or something else entirely. And underneath it all, that persistent thrumming, like the heartbeat of some vast, slumbering beast.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

Kitty whirled, heart pounding. A figure emerged from the shadows, moving with an unnatural power. As it stepped into the wan light of a nearby lamp, Kitty's breath caught in her throat.

The woman before her was tall and rail-thin, draped in layers of dark, shimmering fabric that absorbed the light around her. Her face was all sharp angles, framed by a wild mane of black hair shot through with silver. But it was her eyes that held Kitty transfixed – deep, swirling purple that looked right through her, stripping away every defense.

"I'm looking for work," Kitty managed, hating the tremor in her voice. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how unprofessional she must look in her T-shirt and jeans. "I thought—"

"You thought what, my dear?" the woman interrupted, her voice a silky purr that sent shivers down Kitty's spine. "That you might find refuge here? Or perhaps redemption?"

Kitty stiffened. "How did you—"

"Madame Noir knows many things," the woman said, spreading her arms to encompass the carnival around them. The movement sent ripples through her dress, making it seem as if shadows were dancing across the fabric. "Especially when it comes to lost souls seeking a new beginning. And you, Kitty Wylde, are more lost than most."

Kitty's mouth went dry. "You know who I am?" Shit. So much for this idea.

Madame Noir's lips curved in a smile that never reached her eyes. "Oh, yes." She cocked her head, studying Kitty with unnerving intensity. "I know all about the accident. Poor Brutus. And those accusations from your former lover. Marco, wasn't it? Such a shame."

"He lied. I never—"

"Never abused your power?" Madame Noir finished, raising an eyebrow. "Never lost control? Never put your own glory above your relationship with Marco? Never told Marco that he’d be nothing without you?"

Each word was like a knife, cutting through the defenses Kitty had built around her heart. How could this woman know so much? She hadn't mentioned Marco's name to anyone since the incident. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't allowed herself to be since that fateful night. She had been a power-hungry bitch. And maybe she deserved to be smacked down to earth. But her animals hadn’t deserved to be vilified.

"I loved them," Kitty whispered, her voice cracking. "My lions. They were everything to me. I would never hurt them like Marco claimed. Brutus wasn’t starving to death. That’s not why he went after the man with the steak." It would have been easy to blame the circus’ security. To blame the idiot with the meat death wish. But in the end, she should have controlled Brutus. “It wasn’t Brutus’ fault. It was mine. But I didn’t mean for anyone to be hurt.”

“Even Marco?” Madame Noir asked.

That was a little more complicated. “I loved him too. But that hadn’t been enough for him. And maybe he hadn’t been enough for me either.”

For a moment, something like sympathy flickered in Madame Noir's eyes. But it was gone so quickly Kitty thought she might have imagined it. Kitty and Marco had fought and made up, and fought again. It was thrilling, passionate, exciting and towards the end... exhausting.

"Intentions matter little in the face of consequences, don't they?” Madame Noir said, her tone softening slightly. “The question is what type of work are you looking to do?”

As Madame Noir's words hung in the air, Kitty felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. She'd come seeking a fresh start, but standing here, under Madame Noir's penetrating gaze, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd walked into something far darker than she'd ever imagined.

“I’m an animal trainer. I specialize in lions. But I can do just about anything you need. I grew up working the carnival circuit.” She gave a half laugh. “I ran away as soon as I could to join the circus.” She ran away from uncaring parents, boring school, and a small town that hadn’t changed since the seventies. Kitty had never looked back. Never wanted to.

“I need a dare devil. I need someone with renown to put this carnival on the map.”

“I’m not sure my type of renown is what you’re looking for.”

“It is.”

Kitty didn’t like putting herself out there, riding on the bad publicity and social media hate to bring people to gawk at her like she was one of the carnival freaks. But what choice did she have?

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," she said, meeting Madame Noir's gaze. "Just tell me where to start."

Madame Noir's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed just a touch too sharp. "Oh, my dear," she said, sending a shiver down Kitty's spine. "We're going to have so much fun together."

As she followed Madame Noir deeper into the shadows of the carnival, Kitty couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a lion's den. But this time, she wasn't sure who the real predator was.