Page 54 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

Later, as I’m heading back to my cabin, I hear footsteps behind me. I know it’s him before he speaks—I’d recognize his stride anywhere.

“Diana?” His voice is hesitant, careful. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

I should say no. Should remind him of our agreement about professional distance. Instead, I find myself turning to face him. “What is it?” I can’t keep my wariness and irritation out of my voice.

He stands a respectful distance away, his hands clasped behind his back. The setting sun catches his hair, turning it to burnished bronze, and my treacherous heart skips a beat.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says quietly. “For trusting me with Alex today. For giving me the chance to learn and understand.”

“You did well with them,” I admit. “Better than I expected—especially without fair warning.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Life is a learning experience.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them—warmth, longing, respect—that makes my breath catch. “You’ve taught me so much more than just how to work with horses, Diana.”

“Cassius…” I start, not sure what I’m going to say.

“I know,” he interrupts gently. “Professional boundaries. I respect that. I just… wanted you to know that I see now what you were trying to show me all along. About acceptance, about growth, about being better than what the world tries to make us.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. This is the man I fell for, what seems like ages ago. He’s thoughtful, caring, eager to learn and grow. But all I need to do is remember the callous expression on his face as he shredded Thrax to ribbons with his unkind words—and the soul-crushing things he said to me—and I’m thrown into confusion. Can I risk my heart to this man again?

“Thank you.” I keep my tone level. I consider saying more, but I don’t want to hint that there can be anything more between us.

He nods, taking a step back. “Good night, Diana.”

As I watch him walk away, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold in the confusing mix of emotions threatening to spill over. Despite all my resolve, despite the walls I’ve built, he’s harder to resist than gravity itself.

I’m just not ready to trust that the changes I see in him are real.

Chapter Forty-Four

Cassius

Sweat drips down my back as I work. Each methodical scrape of the manure fork against the stall floor is a meditation. The familiar scent of hay and horses surrounds me, grounding me in the present moment.

Through the barn doors, I can see Alex perched atop Buddy, following Diana’s gentle instructions. Their confidence grows with each lesson, though they still tense when I come too near.

The sound of an approaching truck breaks through my thoughts, followed by Dominus the goat’s indignant bleat as he darts between Atlas’s legs. The little goat has developed an uncanny ability to escape Thrax’s attempts to contain him, usually choosing the most inconvenient moments to make his appearances. Atlas, used to the kid’s antics by now, merely flicksan ear as Dominus headbutts his ankle playfully before racing toward the incoming truck.

This is the hay delivery we’ve been expecting. I step out of the stall, surprised by the big truck’s speed. He’s coming in too fast, kicking up gravel and causing dust to drift toward the corral where Diana is working with Alex.

Out in the training yard, I glimpse several of my fellow gladiators sparring. Thrax pauses mid-strike, his attention drawn to the truck’s noisy arrival. When the driver swings out of the cab, something about his demeanor sets me on edge. His dirty bright green cap and stained shirt suggest personal hygiene ranks well below judgmental sneering on his priority list.

“Where you want this load?” the driver directs his question at me, completely ignoring Diana, who is much closer to him. His gaze sweeps over the scene, lingering too long on Alex as his expression hardens into obvious disapproval. “And what isthatsupposed to be?”

The cruel emphasis on “that” slices through the air like a blade, speaking volumes about his negative judgments. Alex’s face crumples, tears welling instantly in their brown eyes. They curl in on themselves, trying to disappear, while Diana stands frozen, clearly caught between comforting Alex and addressing the driver’s bigotry.

My warrior’s blood burns with righteous fury. Every muscle in my body coils, ready to teach this fool what it means to face a gladiator’s wrath.

White-hot rage surges through me. My first instinct is to grab thisstultusby the throat, to remind him how it feels to be powerless and afraid. My muscles coil, ready for violence. The gladiator in me—the warrior who survived matches in the arena—demands blood for this insult.

But then I see Alex’s tear-stained face, and another path presents itself. What lesson would violence teach? That might makes right? That fear is the only way to change minds?

No. I am not that man anymore.

“Diana.” My voice is steady despite my fury. “Please translate my words for him.”

She nods, her face hopeful.

I step forward, drawing myself to my full height. “That is a brave young person who deserves your respect.” I pause as Diana translates, her voice growing stronger with each word.

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