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 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.