Page 45 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cassius

The streets of this endless city swallow me whole. I’ve been walking for hours, each step taking me further into a maze I don’t understand. My feet ache in these fine leather shoes, and the night air has turned cold enough to cut through this expensive jacket that isn’t meant to keep me warm.

A metal box on a pole flashes from red to green, and people around me surge forward across the black stone path. I follow, but halfway across, cars roar toward me, their bright eyes blinding. Someone yanks me back as one vehicle screams past, barely missing me as the driver shouts angrily, accusing me of drinking too much.

My heart bangs against my ribs. In the arena, I knew the rules. I understood the threats. Here, death lurks in every crossing, in every misunderstood signal.

My stomach growls, reminding me I fled the gala before eating. I watch people enter and exit shops, exchanging small rectangles of plastic for food. I have nothing—no money, no way to communicate, no understanding of this world’s basic functions.

A group of young men laugh as they pass me, and I catch their sneers at my formal attire, now wrinkled and sweat-stained. In Rome, I would have had them flogged for such disrespect. Here, I am nothing. Less than nothing.

The thought strikes me: I am less now than I ever was in Rome. There, at least, I knew the customs, spoke the language, and understood my place in the world. Here, I am utterly helpless.

As if the gods themselves mock me, the sky opens up. The rain is cold, soaking through my clothes within moments. People hurry past with strange shields over their heads—umbrellas, I’ve heard them called. I have nothing to protect me from the elements.

I need to get back to Second Chance. The thought hits me with the force of a punch to the gut. But how? I don’t know where I am. I can’t read the signs. I can’t ask for directions. I can’t…

A memory surfaces: Diana, teaching me to mount Atlas for the first time. “It’s okay to be afraid,” she said. “Courage isn’t about not feeling fear. It’s about facing it.”

Diana.

My chest tightens, but not from panic this time. I see her face in my mind—not perfect like a statue, but real. Beautiful in her imperfections. Strong in her vulnerability. The way her eyes crinkle when she laughs. The gentleness of her hands when she tends to the horses. The passion in her voice when she talks about helping others.

By all the gods. I love her.

The realization stops me in my tracks, heedless of the rain. I love her not because she can help me. Not because I need her. But because she makes me want to be better. Because she saw the good in me even when I couldn’t see it myself. Because when I’m with her, I’m not the patrician or the gladiator or the man out of time—I’m just Cassius, and for her, that’s enough.

A soft golden light catches my eye. Through the rain, I see a building with tall windows of colored glass. A cross rises above its peaked roof—I recognize it from our lessons about this era’s culture and religions. A church.

The massive wooden doors are heavy, but they open at my touch. Inside, the air is warm and still, scented with candle smoke that reminds me of temple incense. Rows of wooden benches face an altar where candles flicker.

I sink onto one of the benches, water dripping from my clothes onto the floor. The space is empty save for a few people scattered throughout, heads bowed in prayer. No one stares at me. No one demands anything. For the first time since fleeing the gala, I can breathe.

“Diana,” I whisper her name like a prayer to whatever god might be listening in this strange house of worship. “I love you.”

The words echo in my heart, true and clear as a temple bell. I don’t deserve her. I may never deserve her. But I love her, and no matter what it takes, I will win her back. Not because I need her, but because she’s mine, and I protect and cherish what’s mine. If there’s even the smallest chance she might forgive me, I must find my way back.

I close my eyes, letting the warmth of the church seep into my bones. I don’t know how I’ll get back to Second Chance nor do I know if Diana will even want to see me. But for the first time since waking in this century, I know exactly who I am and what I want.

I am Cassius Cornelii, and I love Diana Thompson. Everything else is just details.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Cassius

The candlelight flickers across the wooden pews, casting dancing shadows on the walls. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been sitting here, my clothes slowly drying in the warmth of this sanctuary. The sound of footsteps approaches, and a gentle voice speaks in English.

“Are you alright, my son? You seem troubled.”

The words come through my translator clearly, but in my distress, I respond in Latin without realizing he won’t understand me. “Obsecro te… auxilium egeo.” I beg you… I need help.

The man in black robes startles at my words, then his eyes widen with interest. He hesitates, then carefully forms his response in halting Latin. “Tu… loqueris Latina?” You speak Latin?

“Yes,” I reply, relief flooding through me at finding someone who might understand. The words pour out of me in a rush of Latin. “I’m lost. I don’t know how to get home. I can’t read the signs, can’t speak to anyone—”

“Lente, lente,”he says, holding up his hand. Slowly, slowly. He settles into the pew in front of me, turning to face me. Switching to English, he asks, “You understand me like this?”

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