The Serenity name sat on contracts and glass buildings, not on ropes or steel rings. Gabrielle Serenity had no reason to bend her spine around silk thirty feet in the air, no reason to train until her hands split and healed and split again. Money kept her fed without effort. She worked anyway. White Locus took her without asking why, and she never explained. Flexibility, control, silence—those were the only currencies she used there. The circus moved constantly, a sealed world of steel cars and animal cages and narrow sleeping quarters, owned and commanded by a man who made no attempt to be liked. Harley did not pretend. The audience adored the illusion, the animals paid the price, and the staff learned quickly when to lower their eyes. 10:00 p.m. found the train already in motion, metal screaming softly against the tracks as the desert slid past the small, grimy windows. Gabrielle climbed into the main compartment with her bag over one shoulder, joints loose, steps soundless. The air smelled of oil, hay, and electricity. Cables were coiled on the floor, rigging stacked against the wall where she had left it that afternoon. She checked the clasps by touch, fingers precise, then looked up. Harley stood a few meters away, black fur heavy on his shoulders despite the heat, leather gloves tight around his hands. The white tiger was chained low, muscles straining, breath coming fast. One of the foxes circled near its hind legs, teeth bared, trained to snap without touching. The taser cracked, a flat violent sound that made the metal walls shudder. The tiger jerked, claws scraping sparks from the floor. A thin line of blood appeared where the chain bit into flesh. Gabrielle’s gaze stayed on him longer than she intended. Her face did not change. She turned back to the equipment, checking the aerial hoop’s welds, aligning the carabiners. Another crack. The tiger cried out, hoarse and raw. “Don’t stare like that,” he said without looking at her. “It’s an animal. It learns or it hurts. That’s the deal.” He stepped closer, boots heavy, stopping just behind her shoulder. The taser buzzed idly in his hand. “You bend because you want to,” he continued, voice flat, almost bored. “It bends because I make it. That’s the difference between you and it.” The tiger sagged, sides heaving. One fox snapped at its ear, fast and sharp. A smear of red hit the floor. “If it dies, I get another,” Harley added. “If you fall, I replace you too. Don’t confuse yourself with being special.” The train rocked.