Chapter 3

Chapter Three

S ophia

The sun isn’t up yet, but the circus is already alive with chaos. The usual morning calm is shattered by frantic voices and hurried footsteps. I step out of my trailer, the cool morning air slapping me awake, but it’s not enough to shake the unease settling in my gut. Something is wrong.

“Rajah’s missing!”

The words cut through the early dawn like a knife. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. Rajah. That damn tiger. He’s not just another animal; he’s a symbol, a legacy. Dante’s pride and joy. If he’s gone, it’s more than a loss—it’s a message. And it’s not a good one.

I start moving, my legs carrying me before my mind catches up. Performers and crew are already scouring the grounds, their faces pale with fear and confusion. Whispers of sabotage, betrayal, and theft buzz in the air, feeding the growing panic. This isn’t just a financial blow—it’s a violation, an attack on everything the circus stands for.

Dante’s voice booms over the chaos, barking orders, demanding answers. But no one has any. The tension is thick, and I can feel it gnawing at the edges of my composure. Rajah might be the prized tiger, but my thoughts are on Zeus. My Zeus. If Rajah can disappear, then Zeus could be next.

A wave of protectiveness washes over me, sharp and fierce. I push through the crowd, ignoring the questions, the worried glances. My only thought is getting to Zeus, making sure he’s safe. The idea of losing him—no, I can’t go there. I won’t.

The morning fog hangs low, clinging to the ground like a bad omen as I navigate the maze of tents and wagons. Every rustle of leaves, every distant noise, seems amplified, setting my nerves on edge. My breath comes faster, my heart pounding in my chest as I reach the animal enclosure.

“Please,” I whisper to myself, the word a desperate plea as I round the corner.

When I see Zeus, a wave of relief crashes over me, nearly bringing me to my knees. He’s there, lying in his enclosure, his golden eyes watching me with that familiar, steady gaze. But the relief is fleeting, replaced quickly by a gnawing fear. If someone could take Rajah, they could come for Zeus next.

I drop to my knees in front of the gate, my hands trembling as I check the locks. They’re secure, but it’s not enough. I tighten them, reinforce them, every motion fueled by a growing sense of dread. My fingers fumble slightly, betraying the fear I’m trying so hard to keep at bay.

Zeus watches me, calm and unbothered, but there’s an alertness in his gaze that tells me he senses the tension too. He’s my rock, my constant in a world that often feels like it’s spinning out of control. Losing him isn’t an option. It’s not something I can even let myself consider.

As I work, my mind races, cycling through possibilities. Who could have taken Rajah? And why? It doesn’t feel random—it feels calculated, deliberate. The fear that this is just the beginning of something much darker lodges in my chest, refusing to budge.

And then there’s Alex. Damn him. My thoughts keep circling back to him, no matter how much I try to push them away. He’s been a steady presence since he arrived, calm in the midst of the storm, and I hate that I’m drawn to that calm, to him. I don’t want to rely on anyone, least of all a man I barely know, but I can’t shake the feeling that I might need his help. And that frustrates me to no end.

I stand, my hands still shaking as I take one last look at Zeus. He’s safe, for now. But the anxiety gnaws at me, the fear that it won’t last. That I can’t do this alone.

Despite every instinct screaming at me to keep my distance, I find myself seeking out Alex. I spot him across the grounds, his presence like a beacon in the chaos. He’s calm, collected, the only one who doesn’t seem rattled by the morning’s events. And that calm draws me in, even as I fight against it.

My steps slow as I approach, uncertainty gnawing at me. This isn’t me. I don’t ask for help. I don’t let people in. But this is different. This is about Zeus.

As I get closer, he looks up, his gaze locking with mine. There’s something in his eyes that unsettles me, a knowing look that tells me he’s been expecting this. Expecting me. And it pisses me off, because it feels like he’s already got the upper hand.

“Alex,” I say, my voice betraying the tension I’m trying to suppress. “We need to talk.”

His expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—interest, maybe even a hint of amusement. “I’m listening.”

And just like that, I’m caught in the pull of him, knowing full well that this is only going to complicate things. But with Zeus’s safety on the line, I don’t have a choice. I just hope I don’t regret it.

I find Alex near the training ring, his back to me as he packs away his gear. The air around him is still charged with the remnants of his earlier performance, the scent of smoke and sweat clinging to his skin. The intensity of the flames he commanded lingers in the space between us, but it's nothing compared to the heat that simmers when our eyes finally meet.

“Alex,” I call out, trying to keep my voice steady, but the edge in my tone betrays me. He turns slowly, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—interest, maybe, or a challenge.

I close the distance between us, feeling the tension coil tighter with each step. “We need to talk,” I say, and it comes out more commanding than I intended. I’m not used to this—being on the back foot, needing help. It grates against every instinct I have.

Alex doesn’t react immediately. He just watches me, that cool, composed exterior giving nothing away. “I’m all ears,” he says finally, his voice low, calm. Too calm.

The weight of everything unsaid between us presses down on me. This is the first time I’ve approached him directly, and it feels like stepping onto a tightrope with no net below. I can sense him reading me, taking in the tension in my posture, the way I’m trying to hold myself together. He’s too observant, and I hate that it makes me feel exposed.

“Rajah’s gone,” I say, getting straight to the point. I force the words out, trying to keep it professional, detached, but there’s no hiding the anxiety in my voice. “If they can take him, they can come for Zeus. I need to make sure he’s safe.”

Alex nods, his gaze steady on mine, but there’s something in his eyes—an understanding that goes deeper than the situation at hand. “You think this is more than just a theft.”

It’s not a question, and it pisses me off that he’s so quick to get there. But he’s right. “Yes,” I admit, my voice tight. “I don’t know who’s behind it or why, but I’m not taking any chances with Zeus.”

“Smart,” he says, and the way he says it, so calm, so confident, it almost makes me want to punch him. Or kiss him. Damn it. “I’ll help,” he continues, and there’s an underlying current to his words that I can’t ignore. He’s not just doing this out of duty. There’s something more, something that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

I bristle at the implication, at the suggestion that he’s doing this because of whatever this thing is between us. “I don’t need your help,” I snap, but it’s a lie, and we both know it. “But I’ll take it.”

A slow smile curves his lips, and it’s infuriatingly smug. “Glad to be of service,” he says, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re probing, searching for the cracks I’m trying so hard to keep sealed. He sees too much, and it sets my nerves on edge.

I turn away, needing to put some distance between us before I say or do something I’ll regret. My thoughts are a tangled mess of anger, fear, and something else I’m not ready to name. I’m frustrated with myself for needing his help, but even more so for the way he affects me. He’s too calm, too controlled, and it throws me off balance in a way I’m not used to.

As I walk away, I can feel his gaze on my back, heavy and unyielding. It should bother me, but instead, it leaves me feeling unsettled, like I’ve already let him too close. I don’t like this feeling—this vulnerability. It’s foreign and dangerous, and I want no part of it.

But I can’t shake the sense that the more I try to push him away, the more I’m drawn to him. It’s like being caught in a current, one that’s slowly pulling me under, and I’m not sure I have the strength to fight it.

This isn’t just about protecting Zeus anymore. It’s about protecting myself, and for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure I can do it alone. The realization leaves me raw, exposed in a way that makes my chest tighten with a mix of fear and something else—something that feels a lot like longing.

As I disappear into the shadows, the turmoil inside me deepens. I know this conversation was a turning point, a moment that will set the course for whatever comes next. But whether that’s a path to safety or destruction, I can’t yet say. All I know is that the tightrope I’m walking just got a lot narrower, and the fall feels a hell of a lot steeper.