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I reach up, trailing my fingers along his jaw, then Tobias’s. “I’m planning on changing the rules of the game. And I need you both to decide — are you with me, or The Carnival?”

The tension crackles between us. Desire and danger intermingling until they are indistinguishable from each other. Kenan bites his lower lip. I don’t truly know what or how I plan to change things, but something deep inside me knows that I will. Because the only option otherwise is to join them, and I can’t do that. And what about Tobias and Kenan? Will you leave them? I shake my head slightly to ignore that line of thought.

“This is madness,” Tobias whispers, but he doesn’t pull away from my touch.

“Maybe …” I concede. “But it doesn’t change the question. And wasn’t it the two of you who told me that ‘sanity is overrated’?”

Kenan catches my wrist, “You don’t understand, Emerson.”

The Carnival continues around us, the sounds of the next act beginning, the crowd’s excitement building again, but in this moment, it’s just the three of us, poised on the edge of a cliff.

“Ten minutes, Kenan.” Rosie appears from nowhere before she flits away.

Chapter 30

The final knife slips from my fingers with practiced precision, embedding itself in the wooden target a hair’s breadth from Melody’s ear. The crowd erupts, the power of it flowing through me. I bow mechanically, muscle memory taking over while my mind races elsewhere.

Tomorrow is the finale. The last normal night before everything changes, and the In-Between calls us again.

Melody skips away, her smile bright and oblivious to the tension swirling inside of me as she disappears behind the curtain. The audience files out in a daze, drunk on The Carnival’s enchantment, unaware of the darkness pulsing beneath their feet.

My hands tremble as I collect my knives, the steel cold against my fingertips. These hands have done terrible things in service of The Carnival. And I hope, if I understood Emerson’s words ... these same hands will soon betray it. I can’t let anything happen to either her or Tobias. I won’t allow it.

“That was a hell of a performance,” Emerson says from behind me.

I turn to find her leaning against one of the support beams, her hazel eyes reflecting the fading stage lights. Something has changed in her since her performance earlier — perhaps even before Tobias and I had her between us — but it’s a new confidence, a deeper connection to The Carnival’s magic.

“We need to talk,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Not here.”

She raises her eyebrow but nods, following me as I lead her through the back corridors of the Big Top. Around us, performers are dispersing; Layla unwrapping the fire-resistant wraps from her arms, and Rosie skipping around with that manic energy that always makes my skin crawl … probably to go find The Ringmaster. None of them look our way. They know better. While I might have slept with ... most of them ... it’s only when I want it. Not that Rosie doesn’t like to test that theory. But all of that was before Emerson, and mostly after Tobias.

I push open the flap to my practice tent, a smaller space away from the main attractions. The air inside is cooler, smelling a lot like sweat and leather. My motorcycle stands in one corner, polished and ready for tomorrow’s death cage act — one Emerson doesn’t even know about.

“What’s wrong?” Emerson asks, crossing her arms.

The tent flap rustles again, and Tobias slips inside. I’ve missed how he emerges and disappears without a sound. After all these years, I won’t tell him that. I’m happy to see him during the acts ... and at the way my heart exploded last night when I felt him again. He doesn’t have his face paint anymore, and without it, I love him more.

“You tell her yet?” He asks.

I shake my head. “Nope, waiting for you.”

Emerson’s eyes dart between us. “Tell me what?”

My hands won’t stop trembling, and I clench them into fists. “You’re to be a part of the final act tomorrow, Ringmaster’s orders before your ritual. Good news, though, you should be comfortable with your rings for your performance.” He smirks, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can handle it.”

Emerson’s face pales, “Want to explain?”

I swallow hard. “Since your soul was chosen this year, the ritual to ‘make it official’ happens after the final performance.” I stop as she rolls her eyes. “Tomorrow night, Tobias and I will mount our bikes.” I flick my eyes toward his.

“You ride bikes?” Emerson smirks.

“We do. Fun fact: it’s the only time he doesn’t do makeup.” I smile at Tobias. “You’ll be in the death cage with us with your pretty little ring as we ride around you.”

She looks around the room and shakes her head almost jokingly. “Of course you do, because why wouldn’t my nightmare of the current situation be a fucking dream any other time? Two men who look good, fuck good, and ride bikes ...” She bites her lip, and gestures for me to continue with a laugh.

I look at Emerson then. Her hazel eyes are not even displaying even an ounce of shock. She is truly accepting this place for what it is, or, possibly, it’s starting to drive her crazy, because I don’t understand why any of that was funny. The weight of what’s coming settles heavily on my shoulders as I refocus my thoughts on the motorcycle cage act.

Riding in that cage is more than just a show; it’s a dance with death. Each time we rev our engines, it reminds me of how easily I could die if I wasn’t trapped in this otherworld — but her in there with us? That is what worries me, because she is still mortal. I glance over at Tobias, whose lips twitch as he’s probably considering the same thing.