Strings Of Fate

Chapter 17

Terrence had gone home.

The man had disobeyed a direct order. He'd gone back to his apartment despite it not being midnight and not having Marquez's permission. He'd returned to the sad little shell of a home rather than return to the van. He wanted to be alone rather than surrounded by warmth and love.

Marquez didn't move, trying not to let the anger boil over inside of him. His muscles tensed as the urge to storm up to the apartment and break in overcome him. The urge burned to grab Terrence by the scruff of his neck and drag him down to the van to force him to sleep on circus grounds, ideally in between Marquez and Sanvish. It wouldn't help. Acting in rage was never a good idea and was more likely to end up with him committing something unforgivable. Terrence had made his choice. Marquez was going to have to live with it, at least for the night.

Not to mention, they'd have to change everything about the way they were courting Terrence to come home if he acted like that. Madame wouldn't be happy with that. They wanted Terrence willingly. They wanted Terrence to come crawling home, not for them to chain and bound him to the grounds.

Breathing carefully, Marquez remembered the lessons he'd been forced to learn after snapping one too many times after Terrence abandoned them the first time. He counted the seconds in between breathing in and out, forcing his breathing to be calm and measured. He was the ringmaster. He wasn't allowed to act in anger. He was supposed to be able to act logically and for the best of the circus first; not for his self-satisfaction.

"You let him go home?" Marquez double-checked as Toby lounged in the office chair comfortably. Toby's body language was relaxed and calm. It almost back Marquez want to snap more. The man wasn't taking this seriously.

"Encouraged it actually," Toby offered in a nonchalant tone that comes how betrayed it wasn't so thoughtless. It had been a thought out and tactical decision that Toby wanted Marquez to think about before going off the rails. Not that Marquez understood just what he was supposed to be getting from this. Toby was overstepping his boundaries. It was not his place to counter Marquez's orders when it did not relate to the safety of the performers and guests.

"Why?" Marquez did not lash out at Toby. That would be rude. He did break the pencil he was holding with a nasty cracking of wood but that was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

The falcon lifted an eyebrow at him, an unimpressed look dancing across his features. His body language shifted from relaxed to the more stern image of a guardian dealing with a disobedient charge. Hot shame washed through Marquez. Toby was his subordinate. He was, like Mika and sadly Nikolai, older than him in both age and years served on the circuit. The man didn't say anything, he gestured to the chair opposite him, his feathers flaring out in a silent scold. Toby may be overstepping but Marquez was doing something to make him act. That was not worth ignoring.

The door was firmly shut and locked before Marquez obeyed the command. The air in between the tiger and the falcon was silent and filled with buzzing electricity as the tension sparked between Marquez's shoulder blades. He couldn't fail. Not now, not when they were so close to getting Terry back.

"Terrence went home," Marquez said, clenching his claws.