Page 64 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

Laura collapses into a seat, already typing furiously on her phone. “It was during the Colosseum incident. He used the chaos as cover. When we were occupied with the trip here and handling the press, he wheeled Victor out of the facility. Made it look like an emergency transfer due to cooling system failures.”

As Laura texts with the hospital staff, I lean close to Thrax and ask, “Were you good friends?”

“I met the Greekling on theFortuna.I didn’t know him long. He was a quiet male, serious. Big and muscular, but not like most gladiators. He was thoughtful, wise, talked about ideas he learned in books. He was easy to be around.”

Just that little bit of information allows me to imagine the male: huge, with slabs of muscle, yet bookish. I can’t imagine how Thrax and Varro are dealing with such devastating news of the loss of their friend.

As we take off, more messages pour in, adding new layers to the deception. A compromised tech specialist. Fabricated system warnings. An unauthorized medical team. By the time we reach cruising altitude, the picture becomes frighteningly clear: while we were fighting Roth in Rome, his organization was about to execute an elaborate heist.

“The transport vehicle?” Varro asks, his voice carefully controlled.

“Gone dark,” Laura reports grimly. “They’ve vanished.”

I reach for Thrax’s hand, feeling the tremors of rage running through him. The victory we felt in Rome seems a distant memory.

Varro paces the narrow aisle of the plane, his movements tightly controlled. “This was coordinated. Roth in Rome, Keller in Switzerland…”

“A diversion,” Laura agrees, her voice hollow. “We were so focused on protecting Thrax and Skye…”

“That our brothers were left vulnerable.” Thrax’s words are barely audible, but I feel them rumble through his chest where I’m tucked under the shelter of his muscled arm.

More messages arrive throughout the flight. Dr. Diaz sends surveillance footage, security logs, staff statements. Each new piece of information reveals how meticulously planned the theft was.

“He had so much help,” I say, scrolling through the logs on Laura’s tablet. “And we were all oblivious.”

“We tried,” Laura adds. “We hired what we thought was the best security money could buy. We just,” she shakes her head as she heaves a sigh, “trusted the wrong guy.”

“We did our best,dulcis,” Varro says to Laura. “How could we have known?”

The rest of the flight passes in tense strategy sessions. By the time we land, we not only have the beginnings of a plan—but the growing realization that we’re facing something bigger and more organized than we imagined.

Chapter Fifty

Thrax

Back at the hospital, the conference room feels too small for all of us considering the weight of our situation. Skye’s hand is warm in mine as we sit around the table, Laura and Varro across from us. The events in Rome play on a loop in my mind, now tangled with the terrible news we received on the plane about Victor’s abduction. Two crises, colliding in the worst possible way.

“So,” Laura begins, her voice tight with stress, “the world knows about us now, and we’ve lost one of our own. The question is, what do we do next?” She steeples her fingers and shakes her head. “We’ve got Interpol involved in searching for Victor, but they advise keeping his disappearance quiet for now.”

“Agreed,” Varro says grimly. “The last thing we need is to alert Roth’s organization that we’re onto them. They clearly planned the attack in Rome as a distraction while they took Victor from the hospital.”

My jaw tightens at Varro’s words. Guilt churns in my gut—while I was fighting in Rome, one of my brothers was stolen away. Skye squeezes my hand as though she can read my mind. She always seems to know when dark thoughts plague me.

“The scientific community is in an uproar,” Varro continues, scanning his phone. “I’ve received dozens of requests for interviews, tissue samples, brain scans—you name it. They still thinkof us as specimens rather than people.” His expression darkens. “And now they’ve actually managed to steal one of us.”

“And don’t get me started on the politicians,” Laura adds, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, you’re now a ‘matter of national security’ according to half a dozen countries.”

The tension thickens in the room, but before we can discuss things further, Laura’s phone buzzes. Her eyebrows shoot up as she reads the message.

“It’s Dara Hobson.” Her voice carries both surprise and relief.

Skye straightens beside me. “My boss.”

Laura puts the phone on speaker. “Ms. Hobson, you’re on with the team.”

“Excellent.” Her voice is filled with authority as she speaks. “I’ll cut to the chase. This gladiator situation is the biggest story of the century, and NextGenTech was instrumental in developing the translation technology that’s making communication possible. I want to be present at the in-depth press conference you’re inevitably going to give.”

We exchange glances around the table. Laura mutes the call.

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