Chapter 4

Chapter Four

A lex

The shadows stretch long across the circus grounds as I settle into a quiet corner, away from the chaos and prying eyes. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the lingering sweetness of sawdust. It’s a secluded spot, perfect for the kind of work I need to do—work that requires focus, precision, and absolute secrecy. My notebook is open on my lap, a few cryptic notes scrawled across the pages, each one representing a piece of the puzzle that is Rajah’s disappearance. But no matter how I arrange them, the picture remains incomplete.

I sift through the clues again, my mind sharpening to the task. Rajah wasn’t just any tiger—he was the crown jewel of this circus, a creature of both beauty and terror, with a lineage that made him priceless. Whoever took him knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t an opportunistic grab; it was calculated, planned. And that’s what worries me the most.

My expression hardens as I consider the list of possible suspects. The circus is a close-knit community, but that doesn’t mean it’s immune to betrayal. I know better than most how secrets can fester beneath the surface, how the people closest to you can harbor the darkest intentions. But as I work through the suspects, my thoughts keep drifting back to Sophia.

Damn her.

She’s a distraction I can’t afford, but one I can’t seem to shake. Her fierce protectiveness over Zeus, her guarded vulnerability—it all pulls me in, against my better judgment. The more I learn about her, the harder it is to keep my distance. And that’s dangerous. For both of us.

I’m here to solve this case, not get entangled in something that could compromise everything I’ve worked for. But the lines are blurring, and every time I think I’ve got a handle on it, she does something that throws me off balance. Like now—just the thought of her is enough to make my concentration waver, and I can’t afford that. Not when the stakes are this high.

I close the notebook, running a hand through my hair as I consider my next move. The investigation is personal now, not just because of the mission, but because I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to her. That’s why I need to stay close, under the guise of protecting the animals. It’s the perfect excuse, really. I get to keep an eye on her, gather information, and maybe—just maybe—find a way to keep her safe without her realizing just how deep I’m in this.

The decision is made, and it’s one I know I’ll have to be careful with. Spending more time with her is a double-edged sword. It gets me closer to the truth, but it also brings me dangerously close to crossing a line I swore I wouldn’t.

When I find her near the animal enclosures, she’s focused, her expression a mix of determination and unease. She looks up as I approach, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if she’s already trying to figure out what I’m doing here. I keep my voice casual, calm. “I was thinking we should work together, at least until we know Zeus is safe. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

She hesitates, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She’s wary—good. She should be. But there’s also a flicker of relief there, something she tries to hide but can’t quite manage. Finally, she nods. “It makes sense. We can cover more ground that way.”

We can, but it’s more than that. Every moment we spend together, the tension between us builds, an undercurrent of something neither of us is willing to name but both of us feel. I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t resist the pull. Being close to her is intoxicating, even as it complicates everything.

This proximity—it’s a time bomb, and I’m the one who lit the fuse. Now all I can do is wait for it to blow.

The night has settled over the circus, a blanket of stars flickering above us as the chaos of the day finally begins to fade. The grounds are quieter now, the sounds of the performances and the crowd replaced by the distant hum of generators and the occasional rustle of leaves. I find Sophia in a secluded spot, sitting on a weathered bench near the edge of the camp. She’s staring out at the darkened landscape, lost in thought.

I approach her slowly, careful not to break the fragile peace of the moment. She looks up as I near, her eyes catching the low light. There’s a softness there I haven’t seen before, a vulnerability that tugs at something deep inside me. Without a word, I sit beside her, leaving just enough space between us to keep it from feeling too intimate. But even with the gap, the tension crackles in the air, thick and undeniable.

For a while, neither of us speaks. It’s a comfortable silence, one that feels heavy with unspoken words, but also oddly reassuring. I can tell she’s been through something—something that’s left its mark on her, just as my past has left its mark on me. The circus is a place of refuge for people like us, but it’s also a place where secrets go to hide.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “I wasn’t always here, you know. At the circus.”

Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as if she’s unsure whether she wants to let me in. I stay silent, letting her find the words at her own pace. This is new for her—opening up—and I don’t want to push her. Whatever she’s about to tell me, it’s important, and I need to handle it carefully.

“I had a life before this,” she continues, her gaze still fixed on the distance. “A normal one, or at least it felt normal at the time. But that all changed when… well, when everything fell apart.”

She pauses, and I can see the struggle in her eyes, the way she’s fighting to keep her emotions in check. I want to reach out, to touch her hand, to offer some kind of comfort, but I don’t. Instead, I stay still, giving her the space she needs to tell her story.

“It was a few years ago,” she says, her voice steady now, as if she’s made a decision. “I was in love. Or I thought I was. But it turned out to be a lie. Everything I thought I knew, everything I trusted, it all came crashing down. And I couldn’t stay. I had to get away, had to find somewhere to start over.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of her past. I can feel the pain behind them, the hurt she’s carried with her all this time. And I understand it, because I’ve carried my own pain, my own scars that never seem to heal. I finally allow myself to look at her, really look at her, and I see the strength beneath the surface, the resilience that’s kept her going despite everything.

“That’s when I found the circus,” she says, finally turning to meet my gaze. “It wasn’t what I expected, but it was what I needed. Zeus… he saved me in a way. Gave me something to hold on to, something to care about when I didn’t think I could care about anything anymore.”

Her voice falters, and for a moment, I see the girl she used to be, the one who was hurt so badly that she had to rebuild herself from the ground up. And damn it, if I’m not completely captivated by her, by her strength and her vulnerability all at once. But there’s also guilt, gnawing at me, because I’m not being honest with her. Not completely.

“Sophia…” I begin, my own voice softer now, tinged with the conflict that’s been brewing inside me. “I know what it’s like to lose everything. To have your world turned upside down and not know how to put the pieces back together.”

She looks at me, curiosity and something else—something warmer—in her eyes. “What happened?”

I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. This isn’t something I share with people, but she’s opened up to me, and it feels right to give her a piece of myself in return. “There was someone,” I say slowly, the memory of it still raw even after all these years. “Someone I loved. But I lost them, in a way I never saw coming. And after that, everything changed. I changed. I had to.”

She’s silent, but I can feel the tension between us shift, becoming something more intimate, more charged with the weight of our shared experiences. It’s like we’re both standing on the edge of something, something we’re afraid to name but can’t ignore.

The conversation winds down, the air around us growing thicker, heavier with each passing second. We’re so close now that I can feel the heat of her body, the way her breath quickens in the dark. I know what’s coming, and I know I should stop it, but I don’t. I can’t.

She leans in slightly, just enough to close the distance, and I feel her breath on my skin, warm and inviting. My pulse races, my body aching to close the gap, to give in to the pull that’s been building between us since the moment we met.

Sophia stands inches from me, her breath uneven, lips parted just enough to drive me wild. The tension between us is thick, electric. I’ve been holding back for weeks, and I can feel it now, burning at the edge of my control. She’s not mine—yet. But the way she looks at me, the way her body responds when I’m near, I know she wants this just as much as I do.

She’s holding back, though. It’s in her eyes, the slight hesitation that makes her wary, the small distance she keeps between us, like she’s afraid of what will happen if she crosses that invisible line.

But I’m not afraid. I step closer, closing the space between us, the heat radiating from her body drawing me in like a flame. My fingers brush her bare arm, trailing up to her shoulder, and her breath hitches. She’s soft, smooth beneath my touch, and it takes everything in me not to pull her against me right now, to crush those lips with mine.

“Sophia…” I say her name low, almost a growl, and I can see the way it affects her, the way her eyes darken, her pupils dilating with the same desire that’s been twisting me up inside. She’s trying so hard to hold it together, but I can see the crack in her defenses. She wants this, wants me, but something’s stopping her.

“Alex…” Her voice is barely a whisper, shaky and unsure. Her gaze flickers between my eyes and my mouth, like she’s trying to decide if she’s going to give in.

I’m not going to push her, but damn it, I want to. “You don’t have to hold back with me,” I say, my hand resting at the base of her neck now, my thumb grazing her pulse. It’s racing, as fast as mine. “You feel this too, don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer right away, but she doesn’t need to. Her body tells me everything. Her lips part slightly, a soft breath escaping as I lean in, just close enough that she can feel the heat of my breath against her mouth. I’m giving her the space to pull away, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she closes the distance, her lips brushing mine in the softest kiss. Tentative. Testing. I can feel the hesitation in it, but I can also feel the fire beneath, just waiting to ignite.

I deepen the kiss, pressing just a little harder, tasting her, savoring the way she melts into me. Her hands reach up, fingers threading through my hair, and that small, unsure kiss turns into something more. She rises on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, her body pressing against mine.

And fuck, my body responds instantly. My cock strains against my pants, painfully hard as the heat between us builds, her soft curves pressing into my chest, her scent driving me crazy. My hands roam down her arms, feeling the goosebumps that rise beneath my fingers, then I slide them to her waist, pulling her even closer until there’s no space left between us.

The kiss turns hungry, her lips parting for me as my tongue grazes hers, tasting her, needing more. She gasps against my mouth, and that sound, that little sound of pleasure, drives me over the edge. I grip her waist tighter, feeling her body arch into mine, and I’m barely holding on, my control slipping with every second.

But just as I’m ready to lose myself in her, she pulls away, breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she takes a step back, her eyes wide and filled with something I can’t quite place—desire, fear, and something deeper.

I freeze, my heart pounding, my hands still tingling from where I touched her. “Sophia,” I breathe, my voice rough with frustration and concern. “What is it?”

She swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she lowers them from my shoulders. “I… I can’t,” she whispers, her voice tight, filled with that hesitation again.

I want to pull her back to me, to kiss her until she forgets whatever’s holding her back, but I don’t. Not yet. Instead, I take a slow breath, stepping forward, but careful not to crowd her. “Talk to me,” I say softly. “What’s going on?”

She shakes her head, blinking rapidly, her hands balling into fists at her sides as if she’s trying to hold herself together. “It’s not you… it’s me. I just—” She breaks off, looking down at the ground, her shoulders tense. “I don’t know how to do this.”

I reach out, gently lifting her chin so her eyes meet mine. “You’re overthinking it,” I say, my thumb brushing her jaw. “I’m right here. We’re right here. Nothing else matters.”

She bites her lip, and I can see the war waging inside her, the way her past still has its grip on her. I don’t know everything she’s been through, but I know enough to understand that she’s scared. Scared of letting someone in. Scared of being vulnerable.

But I’m not going to let her run from this. From us.

“Don’t fight it, Sophia,” I murmur, stepping closer, my forehead resting against hers. “You don’t have to be scared with me.”

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, I think she’s going to let go, going to trust me. But then she shakes her head again, pulling away, her arms wrapping around herself as if she needs the physical barrier between us.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I need time.”

My heart aches for her, but I nod, swallowing down the frustration. “I’ll give you all the time you need,” I say, my voice rough but sincere. “But when you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere.”

She puts more distance between us, and I can see the turmoil in her eyes. The conflict between what she wants and what she’s terrified of.

“I get it,” I say, my voice low, even though it feels like the air has been sucked out of my lungs. “I do.”

She nods, her expression torn, before turning and walking away. I watch her go, my mind a tangle of emotions—desire, frustration, guilt. I’m in deep, and I know it. But I also know that this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The tension between us isn’t something that can be easily dismissed. It’s there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to boil over. And when it does, I’m not sure either of us will be ready for what comes next.