Page 53 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

I translate, kicking myself that I haven’t equipped Alex with a translator yet.

The smile that breaks across Alex’s face is like the sun coming out. “Really? You’d show me?”

“Of course,” Cassius replies, and my heart swells at the warmth in his voice. “Everyone deserves to find their strength.”

As I watch them work together—Alex gradually relaxing, Cassius gently demonstrating training techniques—tears prick at my eyes. This is why I stay, despite everything that’s happened between Cassius and me. Because moments like this—watching someone grow beyond their prejudices, seeing a scared kid find acceptance—make it all worthwhile.

Cassius catches my eye across Buddy’s back and gives me a small nod. Professional, respectful, but with an understanding we didn’t have before. We both know what it’s like to feel out of place, to struggle with identity. Maybe that’s why Second Chance works—because here, everyone gets to be who they truly are, not who others expect them to be.

Even if it takes some of us longer to learn that lesson than others.

Chapter Forty-Three

Diana

The dining hall is alive with its usual raucous energy as I push my fork through my mashed potatoes, creating little valleys and mountains. My appetite has been touch and go lately, probably because I spend too much time watching Cassius when I should be eating.

Like now. I can’t help but notice how different he seems as he spars with Thrax in the yard outside the dining hall windows. Gone is the arrogant tilt of his chin, replaced by genuine focus and respect. Where he once taunted and belittled, now he asks questions and learns from others’ techniques.

“You’re staring again,” Skye says softly as she sits beside me with her tray of food. I don’t need to glance at her face to know she’s smirking.

“I’m observing,” I correct her, though my cheeks heat. “Professional interest only.”

“Uh-huh.” She takes a bite of her dinner, clearly unconvinced. “That’s why you haven’t touched your food for the last ten minutes.”

I bite back a juvenile protest that Iamtouching it, just not eating it. Instead, I force myself to swallow a forkful of broccoli, but my attention drifts back to the window. Cassius is working with his makeshift trident, his movements fluid and graceful. Sweat darkens his shirt, making it cling to his muscled frame in ways that are entirely too distracting. But it’s not just his physical presence that draws my eye—it’s the change in how he carries himself.

When Thrax lands a solid hit, Cassius doesn’t bristle or snap like he once did. Instead, he laughs, asking Thrax to show him how he executed the move. The other gladiators are starting to warm up to him again, drawn in by his genuine desire to learn, to improve, to be part of the team rather than above them.

“He’s different,” I murmur, half to myself.

“He is,” Skye agrees. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.” I tear my gaze away from the window. “We’re keeping things professional. It’s better that way.”

“Is it?” she asks, expecting no answer.

The sparring session ends, and the men file into the dining hall, their deep voices carrying through the open door. Cassius enters last, wiping his face with his forearm. His blond hair is darker because it’s damp with sweat, curling slightly at the temples. My fingers itch to brush back the stray locks.

Stop it, I scold myself.Professional distance, remember?

“That was some fancy footwork, Cassius,” Rurik calls out. “Where’d you learn that pivot move?”

“From watching you, actually,” Cassius replies, his voice warm with genuine appreciation. “You’re much quicker on your feet than I would expect from a man of your size.”

Rurik beams at the compliment, and I notice how different it feels from Cassius’s old way of speaking. There’s no condescension, no hidden barb—just honest recognition of another’s skill.

The conversation flows easily as the men eat, and I’m struck by how naturally Cassius now fits into the group. He listens more than he speaks, laughs genuinely at others’ jokes, and offers suggestions without trying to dominate. He also looks more comfortable, more relaxed than he used to.

Jason is doing so well that we’ve helped him wrangle permission to stay a few extra hours at Second Chance every now and then. He practically elbowed Flavius out of the way so he could sit next to Cassius, who seems to be his new hero.

“So, kid,” he says warmly. “How was school today?”

Jason’s initial wariness is nowhere to be found. It’s clear he’s not holding a grudge as he immediately launches into a response. “Okay, I guess. That thing you told me about pride? It helped. When some guys were giving me shit—uh…” He glances sheepishly at me. “Sorry, trouble. I remembered what you said about choosing your battles.”

Pride glows in Cassius’s eyes, but it’s different now—pride in someone else’s growth rather than his own importance. “Good man,” he says softly. “That takes real strength.”

I realize I’m staring again when Cassius’s gaze meets mine. For a moment, the air seems to crackle between us, heavy with everything we’re not saying. I glance away, my heart pounding.

---