Page 37 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

He knew exactly how to hurt everyone he attacked, just as he knew exactly how to hurtme. He didn’t use a bludgeon. No, he used a scalpel. His words were designed to flay me alive. And they did. I feel eviscerated.

The realization hits me like a physical blow: I’ve been fooling myself. The kind, gentle man I fell for was just a mask hiding something far darker. The Cassius I saw tonight was a stranger—cold and cruel, dripping with arrogance and disdain.

I try to make sense of it, grasping for any explanation that will make this okay. Maybe it’s the brain injury, I think desperately. The books say emotional problems, irritability, and aggression are common after head trauma. Or maybe it’s the confusion of his returning memories. Maybe…

But even as I clutch at these excuses, they’re not enough to earn him a pass. This isn’t new. It’s been building for weeks. I’ve watched him change, watched the man I cared for fade away, replaced by someone I barely recognize.

I replay how he sneered at Thrax, mocking his accent and background. Thrax, who’s been nothing but supportive, who’s gone out of his way to make Cassius feel welcome. And Skye—brilliant, kind Skye—shrinking under the weight of his scorn.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper to the empty room, my voice raw from crying. “It’s not right.”

I push myself up off the floor and stumble to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The small mirror above the sink shows a stranger—eyes red and puffy, cheeks blotchy fromcrying. But it’s more than that. I look… defeated. Worn down. Vacant.

His words echo in my head: “At least my parents didn’t throw me away like garbage.”

Fresh anger surges through me. No. It’s not anger, it’s devastation. He laid in wait, listening to my greatest hurts and fears, and then targeted them for his lowest blows.

How dare he? How dare he poke at my most vulnerable feelings? In front of my friends? I laid myself bare for him, let him see my pain and hardships. I thought I was earning his trust, but instead he threw it back in my face to use it as a weapon.

I grip the sink until my knuckles turn white. No. This isn’t okay. This isn’t something I can just forgive and forget.

I’ve spent too much of my life making excuses for men who treat me poorly. Too much time convincing myself that if I just try harder, if I’m just more understanding, if I’m nicer and ignore bad behavior, that things will get better. But they never do. And I promised myself I would never let a man mistreat me again.

“I deserve better,” I tell my reflection, my voice growing stronger with each word. “I deserve someone who respects me, who values me. Someone who doesn’t lash out at me or belittle me when things get tough.”

The realization settles over me like a heavy blanket. As much as it hurts, as much as I wish things could be different, I know what I have to do. I have to end things with Cassius.

The thought sends a fresh stab through my heart. I care for him deeply. I’ve seen the good in him, the kindness and compassion he’s capable of. But I can’t keep holding onto that version of him while this new, cruel Cassius tramples over everyone around him.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. It won’t be easy. We work together; we see each other every day. But I have to do this. For my own sake, for my own self-respect.

As I crawl into bed, exhaustion finally overtaking me, I make a silent promise to myself. Tomorrow, when Cassius inevitably comes to apologize, I won’t back down. I won’t let myself be swayed by promises of change or pleas for understanding. I’ll stand firm in my decision.

Because I deserve better. And maybe this will be the wake-up call Cassius needs to realize how far he’s strayed from the man I need him to be. I thought it was the same man he wanted to be. Obviously, I was wrong.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Cassius

My mind is reeling from what just happened in the dining room. The cool night air does nothing to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. Without thinking about where I’m going, my feet carry me toward the barn.

The horses nicker softly as I enter, the familiar scent of hay and leather wrapping around me. I approach Atlas’s stall, reaching out to stroke his velvet nose.

“What have I done, my friend?” My voice comes out rough, broken. “I’ve ruined everything.”

My stomach tumbles and circles as Atlas pushes his head against my hand, snorting softly. I try to let the beast’s presence calm me. For a moment, I find peace in his simple, uncomplicatedaffection. But it’s not enough to drown out Diana’s hurt-filled voice echoing in my mind.

The urge to fix this hits me like a punch to the solar plexus. I have to make this right! There must be a way to fix this! I burst out of the barn and run toward Diana’s cabin, desperate to get there before she has time to build her walls higher.

I skid to a stop at her door, hand raised to knock. For a moment, I freeze. What if she turns me away? What if I’ve truly lost her? The thought feels like a knife in my gut. But leaving isn’t an option.

Taking a deep breath, I rap my knuckles against the wood. “Diana?” My voice cracks with desperation. “Diana, please. I need to talk to you.”

There’s a long pause, and I feel weak, as though my life’s blood is seeping out of me. But then I hear movement inside, and the door slowly opens.

Diana cracks the door, looking devastated in her soft pajamas, her eyes red and swollen from crying. The sight of her like this—knowing I caused it—feels worse than any physical pain I’ve endured. A memory flashes through me of what a whip feels like, but I push it aside as I realize this pain is worse.

“Cassius,” she says flatly. “What do you want?”

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