Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
As the circus settled into the quiet of midnight, Ava wandered alone outside in the shadows. I watched her from a distance, giving her the space I knew she needed but loathing every inch that separated us. I hated myself from walking away earlier, and I hated myself even more because I couldn’t stay away either. I watched her walk along on soft steps before she paused by the lion’s cage, her figure bathed in moonlight, her attention fixed on the wild animal pacing behind bars. I couldn’t hear her thoughts, but the way she mirrored the lion’s restless movements spoke volumes. I wondered if she was caught in a cage of her own making like I was, torn between duty and the raw, escalating desire that pulsed between us. I knew she felt it because I could feel it too. As the night deepened, I remained hidden in the darkness, my eyes never straying from her solitary form. The emotional distance, the professional barriers, the secrets—they all seemed trivial now against the backdrop of what I felt, of what I saw in her every hesitant step. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would bridge that gap. I would confront not just the investigations or the suspicions but the burgeoning something that neither of us could deny any longer.
Tonight, though, I left her to the moon and the pacing lion, to her thoughts and turmoil. But tomorrow, I would be there, ready to face whatever came our way—together or apart. The circus, with all its enchantments and illusions, had never felt more like a battleground than it did under that vast, starlit sky.
Chapter Six
Ava
In the dim light of the circus archive room inside the office tent, the dust motes danced like tiny specters in the shafts of sunlight that pierced the gloom. I tried to keep my thoughts off of Dante as I rifled through aged documents and old show posters until my fingers, driven by an investigative instinct, discovered a false bottom in one of the drawers. With a soft click, the hidden compartment gave way, revealing ledgers and paperwork that reeked of age and secrets. As I sifted through the pages, the figures jumped out at me—large payments made out to unknown entities, the purpose of these transactions marked vaguely or not at all. Each entry was a breadcrumb on a trail that promised to lead me deeper into the circus’s shadowy financial underbelly.
With the weight of the evidence in my backpack, I stepped out into the daylight, the circus grounds bustling around me as if it were just another day. But for me, the stakes had just escalated. I noticed a group of stern-looking men heading toward a restricted area rarely frequented by the performers or staff. My curiosity piqued, I followed discreetly, keeping a safe distance. From behind the cover of a brightly painted wagon, I observed their guarded demeanors and snapped photos of their faces and the secluded meeting spot. And a while later, in the performers' dressing room, amidst the chaos of preparations for the evening’s show, I stumbled upon something chilling. Behind a row of glittering costumes, in a small, overlooked locker, I found a stack of letters bound by a faded ribbon. Unfolding them with trembling hands, I read the threats veiled in polite prose, the messages clear: comply or suffer the consequences. The letters were unsigned, but the fear they were intended to instill was as oppressive as the makeup scent that permeated the air.
As dusk settled over the circus, casting long shadows that twisted like the secrets I was unearthing, I lingered near the back of the main tent. Here, I overheard a conversation that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Two of the circus’s top office guys, Larry and Matt, their voices hushed and urgent, discussed how to “deal with the snooping journalist”—me. Their words, coupled with the knowledge of the threats already issued, sent a cold dread spiraling through me. I was no longer just an observer; I was a direct threat to their operations, and they knew it. Each discovery, each clandestine observation, drew me deeper into a web of deceit that was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline of uncovering hidden truths, was heady, but so was the growing connection I felt with Dante. He was woven into the fabric of this place, his leadership a beacon that now seemed marred by the murkiness of these revelations. How much did he know? How deeply was he involved? My heart ached to confront him, to hear his side of the story, but fear—a fear of the truth I might uncover—held me back. Was he only wooing me to find out my own secrets? I was weary of letting him too close for fear he’d discover my true purpose at the Misfit Cabaret.