Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I scoff. “They’re not scared, Alex. They’re looking for someone to blame.”
He doesn’t argue, which only makes the knot in my chest tighten. I know I’m right. They’ve already made up their minds. I’m the lion tamer. The animals trust me. It’s too easy to point fingers in my direction.
“They’re wrong,” Alex says, stepping closer. “You know that, right?”
I close my eyes, trying to hold on to that truth, but the doubt is still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind. “Do I?”
Alex reaches out, his hand hovering near my arm as if he’s not sure whether I’ll pull away. I don’t move, but I don’t look at him either. “Sophia,” he says softly, “I know you. You would never do this.”
I want to believe him. God, do I want to believe him. But how can I trust anything he says? He’s been lying to me since the beginning, pretending to be someone he’s not. And now, when I need to be sure of who I am, I can’t even trust myself.
I take a step back, breaking the small, fragile connection between us. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”
Alex’s expression hardens, but there’s something softer in his eyes, something I don’t want to see right now. “I know you’re scared.”
I grit my teeth, refusing to let him in. “I don’t need you to save me.”
“I’m not trying to save you,” he says quietly. “I just don’t want you to go through this alone.”
The words hit me harder than I expect, but I push the feeling down, burying it deep. Alone is what I know. Alone is where I’m safe.
I stand outside Alex’s trailer, my fists clenched, my pulse a frantic beat in my chest. Every instinct screams at me to turn around, to forget this, to handle things on my own like I always have. But the circus is unraveling, the animals are disappearing, and the people I once called family are starting to turn on me.
I can’t do this alone. As much as I hate it, I need him.
The last place I want to be is here, pacing like a caged animal in front of Alex’s door. After everything—his lies, his betrayal—I never wanted to speak to him again. But now, my hands are tied. It’s not about me anymore. It’s about Zeus, the animals, and the circus that’s falling apart at the seams.
I bite my lip, staring at the trailer door. My stomach twists in knots. I’ve rebuilt my walls since our last encounter, bricked them back up as high and solid as ever. Now I’m about to crack them again, and I hate that it’s for him. But there’s no other option. I take a deep breath and force myself to knock.
The door opens faster than I expected. Alex stands there, shirtless, his eyes wide with surprise. His gaze locks onto mine, and the air between us thickens with tension. For a second, I can’t breathe, can’t think past the overwhelming urge to turn and run.
“Sophia.” His voice is low, cautious.
I don’t let myself linger on the way his skin gleams in the soft light of the trailer or how his eyes have that familiar heat that always made my pulse quicken. I cross my arms over my chest, my posture rigid, keeping as much distance between us as I can.
“We need to work together,” I say, my voice clipped, each word bitter on my tongue.
Alex’s expression shifts, something close to relief flickering across his face. But he stays quiet, waiting for me to continue. Smart. He knows he’s on thin ice, and one wrong word could send me storming away.
“I don’t trust you,” I add, forcing myself to keep the anger out of my voice, even though it’s bubbling just beneath the surface. “But I need help, and the animals need protection. So this isn’t about you and me. This is about them.”
Alex nods slowly, stepping back to give me space to enter the trailer, though I don’t move from the doorway. He’s careful, deliberate. He knows I could snap at any moment, and I can see the tension in his shoulders as he tries to figure out how to navigate this without pushing me too far.
“I understand,” he says, his tone measured. “I know I screwed up. But I want to help. I never stopped wanting to help.”
I swallow the retort that rises in my throat. This isn’t about us. I keep reminding myself of that. “This is business, Alex. Strictly business. Don’t make it more than that.”
I can see the way his jaw tightens, the way he presses his lips together as if to hold back whatever apology or explanation is burning on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he just nods again. “Okay.”
The word hangs between us, fragile but holding. It’s enough to keep me here, to let this shaky partnership begin.