Page 68 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

“Yep. Full of personality,” I agree, my heart warming at the sight of my fierce gladiator melting over a baby goat. “But where did he come from? We should probably find his owners.”

After a bit of detective work (and a lot of chasing), we manage to corral our adventurous visitor, put a rope around his neck, and fight with him all the way to a neighboring farm. We give our agreed-upon cover story about having just bought the property for ourselves and some friends.

“Oh, the commune folks,” the elderly couple who own the place give us the once-over, then greet the kid with grudging exasperation.

“Glad to find the little shit,” the old farmer grumbles, eyeing the kid with annoyance. “He escaped when we were loading him onto the truck to be butchered.”

My heart sinks at his words, and I feel Thrax tense beside me. We exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. With a slight nod, Thrax turns to the farmer.

“How much?” he asks in English.

The farmer’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to buy him?”

I step forward, unable to keep the eagerness from my voice. “Yes, we’d love to. He’d make a great addition to our… farm.”

After some negotiation (and a price that’s probably far too high for a baby goat—especially a little shit), we find ourselves trudging back home, the kid trotting happily between us. Our new purchase seems determined to live up to the farmer’s description, zigzagging across our path and attempting to eat everything in sight.

“You know,” Thrax says between bouts of laughter as the goat nibbles the toe of his boot, “I think we may have bitten off more than we can chew with this one.”

I grin, watching as Thrax scoops up the mischievous kid. “Maybe, but look how happy he makes you. Besides, every farm needs a mascot, right?”

Thrax grumbles, “By his nature, perhaps we should name himDominus.”

“Master!” I laugh. “That’s a good one. You’ve probably hit the nail on the head. I think he’ll try to rule the roost, although when the other gladiators arrive, I imagine they’ll give him a run for his money.”

“Not to mention your cat, Alabaster,” Thrax says as he tries to rein in the ornery creature. “I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s in charge.”

I giggle. He’s right, though. She still hasn’t forgiven me for traipsing off to Switzerland for months.

As we crest the hill that leads to our farmhouse, we pause to take in the view. The property stretches out, a patchwork of fields and construction sites that will soon become home—not just for us, but for the other gladiators as well.

The existing farmhouse, where we’ve been staying, stands sturdy and welcoming. Soon, it will be Laura and Varro’s home, a place for them to build their life together, just as Thrax and I are building ours.

To the left, I can see the foundation of what will become our cottage—a cozy haven for just the two of us. Although Thrax made sure the plans were drawn up to include room for expansion. He gave me the sweetest look when he said that to the architect. I’m not gonna lie. It made my stomach do that swoopy, swirly thing that feels like an elevator dropping way too fast.

“It’s really coming together, isn’t it?” I muse, leaning into Thrax’s side.

He nods, his arm tightening around me. “It’s more than I ever dreamed possible,” he says softly. “A home, a future… a family.”

The word “family” sends a warm flutter through my chest. It’s true—in the months since we left Switzerland, even across an ocean, we’ve become more than just a group of people thrown together by extraordinary circumstances. We’re becoming a cohesive unit.

My phone buzzes with a textfrom Laura.

“She has several updates,” I announce as I scan the messages. “First, Lucien just completed the revival process. He’s healthy and adapting well, though understandably stunned by his journey through time.”

Thrax’s eyes light up at the mention of his brother. “Ah, the one with skin and hair white as milk. He was always quick to learn—he’ll do well here.”

Thrax gives me a thumbs up, our little in-joke.

“There’s more,” I continue, my smile faltering. “Roth’s case has concluded. He had powerful friends and excellent lawyers; he received a surprisingly light sentence.”

“And Victor?” Thrax asks quietly.

“Still missing,” I reply softly. “Interpol and Dara’s teams are following every lead, but…” I trail off, not wanting to voice our shared fears.

Thrax squeezes my hand. “We’ll find him. I feel it in my bones.”

“Laura and Varro will be here tomorrow afternoon to check on the construction progress,” I add, trying to lift the mood. “And she hints at having some other news, but didn’t say what it was. She ended her message with three dots.”

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