Page 11 of Taming the Lion
“We’re running out of time,” he says, his tone softening. “Sophia, if we don’t figure this out soon, more animals will disappear. And Zeus…”
My heart clenches at the mention of Zeus. I grit my teeth, willing myself not to show any weakness. I have to stay strong, keep my emotions in check. But the thought of losing him, of letting this circus—my home—fall apart... it’s too much.
“I know,” I whisper, my voice strained. “That’s why I’m here.”
For a moment, the weight of everything—Zeus, the missing animals, the crumbling circus—presses down on me, and I feelmyself faltering. But I can’t let him see that. I can’t let Alex think for a second that I need him for anything more than this. I straighten my shoulders, forcing the vulnerability back behind my walls.
“This isn’t about us,” I say again, more firmly this time. “I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t want to hear any more excuses. We work together to solve this, and when it’s done, we go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.”
Alex’s expression darkens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he steps closer, just enough that I can feel the heat of him, the pull I’ve been trying to ignore. “Sophia… I’m not asking for anything more. But you need to know that everything I’ve said—everything I’ve felt—it’s real. I never meant to hurt you.”
My throat tightens, but I refuse to let him in. Not again. I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze with all the resolve I can muster. “It doesn’t matter.”
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words, unresolved emotions, and the simmering tension that’s always there, no matter how much I try to push it away. But I won’t let myself fall into that trap again. Not with him.
“We need to focus,” I say, breaking the silence. “The animals. The investigation. That’s all this is about.”
He nods, though I can see the flicker of something—regret, longing—behind his eyes. But he doesn’t push, and for that, I’m grateful.
I turn away from him, taking a deep breath to steady myself. This is about survival. About saving the circus. About protecting Zeus. It’s not about Alex. And I won’t let myself forget that.
Chapter Eight
Alex
I stand just outside the main tent, watching the chaos unfold around me. The circus has always been a wild, untamable beast, but now, with every missing animal, the tension inside the tent thickens, tightening its grip on everyone like a vice. The performers, the crew, even the clowns—there’s a paranoia in their eyes that wasn’t there before. They’re looking at each other with suspicion, with fear. The air is thick, not just with the smell of sawdust and sweat, but with desperation. Everyone’s trying to figure out who’s next to disappear. And it’s only a matter of time before this place crumbles.
I keep my distance, leaning against a stack of crates, scanning the grounds. My mind isn’t on the circus itself—it’s on the animals, on who’s taking them, and why we’re always two steps behind. And it’s on Sophia. It always is.
She’s walking toward me now, her expression tight, her body language screaming tension. There’s a haunted look in her eyes, like she hasn’t slept in days. I know the feeling. I push off the crates as she approaches, my pulse quickening like it always does when she’s near.
“Another one’s gone,” she says, her voice clipped, her eyes avoiding mine. She’s barely holding it together, but Sophia’s never been one to show cracks easily. “It’s getting worse.”
I nod, though it’s not like she needs my confirmation. We both know the truth. It’s spiraling out of control. “The leopard?” I ask.
She swallows hard, and that’s all the confirmation I need. The knot in my gut tightens. It’s not just about the missing animals anymore—it’s about time. Every second we waste, every step we fall behind, means more loss. And we’re running out of both.
“I can’t—I can’t lose Zeus, Alex,” she says, and for the first time, her voice falters. “If he’s next…”
She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t need to. I can see it in her eyes, in the way she wraps her arms around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together. She’s terrified. Not just for the circus, but for him. Zeus isn’t just an animal to her—he’s everything. I’ve always known that, but seeing the fear etched across her face now makes it real in a way that twists my chest.
“He won’t be,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to offer something—anything—that will make her believe we can stop this. “We won’t let it get that far.”
But even as I say the words, I can feel the weight of the lie in them. We don’t know how close we are to stopping this. The threats, the missing animals, the danger—it’s closing in, faster than we can keep up. And Sophia’s unraveling. I can see it in the way she’s struggling to keep her composure, to stay strong.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she snaps, finally meeting my eyes, her gaze sharp, almost angry. But it’s not anger—it’s fear. She’s trying to push me away again, trying to build those walls higher, but we’re in too deep now. Neither of us can do this alone, and she knows it.
I step closer, ignoring the distance she’s trying to put between us. “We’ll figure it out,” I say, my voice softer now. “But we have to work together.”
She lets out a harsh breath, her gaze flicking away from me. “We are working together.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head slightly. “You’re barely letting me in.”
Her jaw clenches, and she looks like she’s about to snap back, but instead, she drops her shoulders, the fight draining out of her. “This isn’t easy for me, Alex. None of this is.”
“I know,” I say, my voice low. “But we need each other if we’re going to stop this. You know that.”
She goes quiet for a long moment, and I can see the internal battle waging inside her. She’s never been one to rely on anyone else, and after what happened between us, I can’t blame her for wanting to keep me at arm’s length. But the walls she’s built are starting to crack, whether she wants to admit it or not.
