Chapter 10
X. LIAR
She had that look in her eyes, somewhere between lust and hate.
The way they caught the light, it was like stars fell into them and drowned in green.
Is this what falling for someone feels like?
Because if it is, I don’t want it. It took me a long time to get this cold, and I was good at it.
The people I grew up with taught me well, and love was never something I learned.
She stood in front of me, blinking, ready to spit another word before I shut her down. I yanked the chain and pulled her toward the table as I sat down.
I opened the drawer and pulled out the leather sack, spreading it open on the table. It had knives inside, all the same size and shape. It was the first thing I ever learned to perform, throwing knives.
“We are on in fifteen minutes,” I said, pointing at the black and white wheel in the corner. A wooden target I used to practice on. Tonight, she would be the center.
“Are you going to kill me in front of everyone?” she asked, looking at the knives, then at the wheel.
I chuckled, taking one knife out. The chain rattled as I pulled her closer until her head was level with mine. I pressed the knife along her cheek, meeting her eyes.
“I’ll leave that for the final act,” I whispered, tracing the blade down her neck, stopping at her breast. She swallowed hard, her breath shaking as the blade slid to her right side.
Her chest trembled when I let the flat of the knife drag down her sternum. “You’re shaking,” I murmured, leaning closer, my breath brushing her skin. “You want me to stop?”
She didn’t speak. Her lips parted, only a quiet gasp escaping. Her mouth wanted to curse me, but her body wanted me in.
I felt it, because I wanted the same.
I tilted my head and leaned closer until my face brushed hers.
“Didn’t think so.”
The circus music outside began to play. I stood and turned her around, sitting her on the table. My body pressed between her legs as I leaned in.
“You think I’ll miss tonight?” I said, raising the knife again, resting it beneath her neck.
She met my eyes, then pushed me gently, leaning closer to the blade. “Maybe you should.”
I laughed, stepped back, and threw the knife. The blade struck the center of the wheel with a sharp thud. She blinked, startled.
“I never miss.”
She swallowed again. I lowered my mouth to her ear.
“Pray, Doll,” I whispered, “that my hands don’t slip.”
I stepped away, leaving her breathless. Her hand went to the choker around her neck as if she needed space to breathe.
I went to the table, pulled the chain tight, and locked it to the golden iron bar I used for the animals.
“Ten minutes,” I said over my shoulder. “Be ready. And fix your face. Your paint’s smudged. Can’t have my doll looking broken before the curtain rises.”
I stepped out of the tent, pushing the curtain aside.
People were everywhere, rushing, laughing, their kids playing. The main tent was filling fast. I took a cigarette from my pocket, lit it, and inhaled until the smoke burned down my throat.
A man approached me, dressed in a black suit and a black mask. He didn’t speak, only handed me a black envelope.
I looked at him, then at it, ready to ask, but he was already gone.
I slipped a cigarette between my lips and tore open the envelope.
Inside was a letter written in gold:
“Dear Mr. Ricci,
We received your invitation, and we will be watching. If we find you worthy of being a member, you will be invited.
The Circle.”
I flicked my lighter, set the letter on fire, and watched it curl into ash.
The Circle would be watching. Good.
Once I was in, I would finish what my brother started. Take them out one by one until there is no one left.
I exhaled the last drag, dropped the cigarette, and crushed it under my heel. Then I turned, moved the curtain aside, and stepped back into the tent.
She was sitting in a chair, holding a small silver mirror as she fixed her makeup. When she saw me, she set it down and stood.
I walked toward her. Her eyes followed me. I stopped near the iron bar and unlocked the chain, pulling her toward me.
“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.
I laughed, pulling harder until our faces were inches apart.
“Your mouth will get you into trouble, Doll.”
I caught her arm and dragged her toward the target wheel, turning her so her back pressed against the wood.
I lifted her left wrist and fastened it to the leather strap hanging there.
Her breathing quickened. I leaned close enough to feel her heartbeat pulse through my chest. I caught her right wrist, tied it the same way, then crouched down.
My hands slid slowly along her thighs, tracing the path down to her ankles.
Her muscles shivered beneath my touch. I lifted her left foot, slipped off her heel, and placed it against the wooden edge, buckling the strap in place.
Then I moved to her right, taking her other heel, lifting my gaze until it met hers.
Her pulse jumped. Her body leaned into the contact, wanting more even when her mind didn’t. I liked that. I locked the strap around her right ankle and stood, facing her again.
I caught her jaw between my fingers, ran my thumb along her lips. Her breath hitched.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she whispered.
I didn’t look up. My eyes lingered on her full breasts. “Enjoying what?”
“Having me chained up before your big moment,” she said, voice breaking into shallow breaths.
I laughed, taking a step back.
“Not as much as you do.” I winked, then turned and walked to the table, checking the knives.
I picked one up, checking the weight in my hand. Looking up, I met her eyes and smirked before letting the blade fly.
It sliced through the air and struck the wood between her thighs, the handle stopping just an inch from her pussy, which I knew was already pulsating for me.
She gasped, eyes snapping shut.
I laughed again, walking toward her. My hand slid down her waist, tracing the curve of her hip until my fingers reached the knife. I pulled it free from the wood, and she let out another sharp breath.
“Mmm,” I murmured against her neck, watching goosebumps rise along her skin. “I wish we had more time.” I chuckled, low. “I would love to see you ride that knife handle.”
She turned her face away, whispering, “You can keep wishing.”
That made me laugh harder.
Just then, two clowns stepped in, followed by Mia. She carried a black cylinder hat and a black leather coat with gold buttons. The circus director’s uniform, made for me. All black, trimmed in gold.
“Mia,” I said, “right on time.”
I turned my back as she draped the coat over my shoulders. I faced her again, bowing slightly as she placed the hat on my head and handed me a black cane.
“Showtime,” I whispered.
I turned to the clowns. “Bring her out in one minute, when I make the announcement.”
Then I pushed through the curtain and left the tent.
The crowd was already roaring. The main tent, striped in blood red and bone white, rose out of the meadow like it was alive. The ropes straining to hold their shape as if containing the chaos inside. Behind it, five smaller tents sat in a half circle. Four for the performers. One for me.
The flaps of the big tent moved as I entered.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have imagined standing here. But now I was ready to run the show.
The entrance closed behind the last of the crowd. Lanterns bathed the ring in gold. As I stepped into the center, the cheers grew louder, and the same gold light fell upon me. And in the shadows behind the ring, I saw a man in a black mask.
The Circle was watching.
“Ladies and gentlemen of La Maddalena,” I began, my voice echoing through the tent, “prepare for a show like no other.” I smiled, the crowd holding its breath. “Prepare for wonders. For the only place left where the impossible still dares to breathe.”
The audience leaned forward. I smiled wider.
“For our opening act, watch the man who never misses, and his human doll who dared not to flinch.“ I bowed, “I never miss,” I said with a wink, and the ladies chuckled in the audience. Clowns entered, bringing Chiara on a wheel, her eyes now covered with a red silk band.
I gestured toward the wheel.
“Next,” I called, leaning on the wheel, “our clowns, painted fools who’ll remind you that laughter can sound a lot like crying if you listen too long!” The music rose, bringing the dark along as lights moved towards the crowds.
“After that,” I said, walking back to the centre, “you’ll see fire eaters, contortionists who can twist into shapes you thought were nearly impossible, a strongman who can lift two tigers, a man who can hypnotize even if he is blind, lost his sight in a great battle with a knife.”
The crowd cheered again.
“And when all that’s done,” I said softly, “our last light will rise, the bearded lady from the north. She’ll sing a song for every soul that’s ever been caged by the world and still found the breath to keep singing.”
For a moment, the tent held still. The clowns removed the silk band from Chiara’s eyes, and across the ring, her gaze locked with mine. She was so damn perfect, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist.
Then I raised my hand. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, smiling, “welcome to Circo dei Perduti.”
The crowd roared. The band struck up, and as the music climbed, I turned my head just enough to whisper to the man behind the curtain, “Let’s begin.”
The clowns rolled out the wheel with Doll fixed at its center. One of them came to me and tied the silk band across my eyes.
“They dared me to throw a knife blind,” I said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. The gasp followed as I took a knife in my hand.
I stood still, breathing steady. Dark pressed against my eyes. I lifted my arm and threw the first knife. The crowd erupted in cheers.
I smirked beneath the blindfold.
I guess she’s still alive, I thought, taking the second knife.
I threw again. The crowd roared louder this time.
I pulled the silk from my eyes and bowed, turning to face the wheel. Both knives had landed between her thighs, close enough to make her tremble.
A laugh broke from my chest. I met her eyes, saw the sweat glistening at her hairline, two drops rolling down her temple.
I turned, drew the last knife, and sent it spinning. When I faced her again, it quivered in the wood right above her head.
The tent exploded in applause. I bowed again, grinning. “Grazie, grazie.”
The clowns rushed in, unstrapping her from the wheel as the parade began behind them.
I stepped out of the ring, scanning the crowd, but the man in the black mask was gone.
Turning toward the performer’s tent, I walked back. The clowns had already brought my Doll inside. She was still shaking, eyes fixed on me, her mouth parting like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find a word.
I walked toward her, my whole body wanting her, every part of me aching for her. But I knew if I gave in now, I would lose control. I would hand it to her. And I couldn’t let that happen.
When you give your control to someone, they own you. You become theirs. I didn’t want her to own me. I wanted to own her instead. To take her completely while she still believed I didn’t give a damn.
It was a game I played. A game I always won. No one ever really knew how I felt, and she wouldn’t be the first to find out. That’s what I do. That’s who I am.
Call me a bully. Call me a liar. Call me whatever the hell you want. But if your heart had been broken as many times as mine, you would stop asking for love, too. You would start taking what’s left of it.
Love is just a game until someone cracks. The one who wins isn’t the one who loves harder. It’s the one who knows when to stop.