Page 15 of Taming the Lion
He moves closer again, just enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hand lifts, slowly, hesitantly, like he’s giving me the chance to stop him, to pull away. But I don’t. I can’t.
His hand rests on my arm, gentle but firm, and I feel the electricity of his touch shoot through me. It’s like a spark, igniting something inside me that I’ve been trying to smother for so long. My breath catches, and for a second, I let myself lean into it, into him.
But just as quickly, the fear comes rushing back—the fear of losing control, of letting him in, of getting hurt again. I can’t afford to be vulnerable. Not now. Not ever.
I pull away, stepping back, breaking the connection between us. The air feels colder, emptier without his touch, but I force myself to put the walls back up. I have to.
“We need to focus,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “This isn’t about us. It’s about the animals, about the circus.”
Alex watches me, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s not giving up. Not yet.
“I know,” he says softly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not about us too.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unresolved. I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. Instead, I turn away, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing.
The tension between us is still there, thick and undeniable, but I’m not ready to face it. Not yet.
I hear Alex move behind me, but he doesn’t press. He’s giving me space, but I can feel the weight of his presence, the unspoken promise in the way he lingers near.
We’re not done. Not by a long shot.
But for now, the danger has passed. The emotions haven’t.
Chapter Twelve
Alex
The lights of the circus flicker, casting long shadows over the ring, but it doesn’t feel like magic tonight. The big top is alive with energy, a sold-out show roaring in the audience, but my focus isn’t on the dazzling acrobats swinging above or the thunderous applause that rattles through the tent. It’s on Sophia, standing center stage with Zeus, her lion. And it’s on the invisible danger that lurks behind every corner.
Sophia is poised, commanding, the picture of strength as Zeus circles her in the ring. But I can see the tension rippling under her skin, the way her gaze darts to the edges of the tent, scanning for something—anything—that feels out of place. She’s waiting, just like I am. We both know it’s coming. The villain is going to make their move tonight, and Zeus is the target.
I shift from my position near the back, trying to keep an eye on everything at once. The air feels too thick, too charged. There’s a hum of anticipation running through the crowd, but they’re here for the show—they don’t know that the real performance is happening in the shadows. I lock eyes with Sophia for a brief moment, and there’s something unspokenthere, something heavy. We don’t need words. We’ve been on this path long enough to know what’s at stake.
And then it happens.
The lights snap off without warning, plunging the tent into complete darkness. The audience gasps in unison, the sound swelling up like a wave. For a second, everything is chaos—screams, confused murmurs, the ringmaster’s voice barking orders to try and calm the crowd. But I know better. This isn’t a technical glitch. This is it.
I’m already moving before the lights flicker back on, and when they do, my worst fear is confirmed. Zeus’s cage, which was supposed to stay at the edge of the ring, is being wheeled toward the back of the tent by masked figures. My pulse kicks into overdrive. It’s all unfolding exactly how we feared.
Sophia’s eyes widen, but only for a heartbeat. She doesn’t freeze—doesn’t let the panic that’s surely pounding through her veins stop her. She’s too strong for that. Her voice cuts through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Zeus!”
The lion responds immediately, leaping toward her, his muscles rippling as he moves with the precision of an animal that trusts his trainer with his life. He’s out of the cage before the thieves can fully secure it, and the relief that rushes through me is overwhelming. But we’re not out of the woods yet.
I’m sprinting toward the masked figures before I even realize it, my body moving on pure instinct. The crowd’s confusion rises, the ringmaster still trying to regain control, but the performance is now the least of our worries. Sophia is already beside Zeus, standing tall, her hand on the lion’s back as she faces the chaos head-on.
This heist was planned meticulously. Every move, every second has been calculated by the villain, and I know we’re dealing with more than just a few rogue crew members. This is bigger, deeper. But right now, all I care about is stopping them.
“Get the lights on!” I shout to anyone who will listen, my voice cutting through the noise as I weave through the throngs of confused performers and staff. I catch a glimpse of the ringmaster, his face pale with shock, but he nods, barking orders into his radio.
The tent is a mess of confusion, but I don’t have time to stop. I’m close enough to the masked figures now, and I can see them struggling to get the cage out through the back. They’re panicking, not expecting this much resistance. Good.
I dive toward them, grabbing one of the figures by the shoulder and slamming them into the ground. The impact jars my arm, but I don’t care. The figure writhes beneath me, trying to get free, but I tighten my grip.
“Not tonight,” I growl, my voice low, dangerous. “You’re not getting away with this.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sophia guiding Zeus to the far side of the ring, away from the chaos. Her focus is unshakable, even with the audience still on edge. She’s got this. I know she does. But I can see the strain in her face, the raw fear beneath her tough exterior. The bond between her and Zeus is the only thing keeping her steady right now.
The lights come back on in a flash, flooding the tent with bright, unforgiving light. The audience’s confusion turns into cheers—they think it’s all part of the show. They don’t realize how close we are to losing everything.
