Page 42 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

Moving behind her, I wrap my arms around her trembling form. “First, we rest. Gather strength. Then forge our path.”

She leans back against my chest, her warmth anchoring me to this moment, this place, this woman who risks everything to shield me from those who would use me.

“I won’t let them have you,” she says. “Not Tony, not these companies with their private armies.No one.”

Her words carry the weight of a gladiator’s oath—deeper than any formal vow, because it springs from choice rather than compulsion. Drawing her closer, I let my lips brush her temple.

“We fight as one,” I murmur. “Two blades, one purpose.”

She sighs, leaning against me as though it’s only in my arms that she allows herself to relax.

“Rest,” I tell her as exhaustion finally claims her. “I will keep watch.”

But she tugs me down beside her on the too-soft bed. “We’ll guard each other’s sleep.”

Part of me wants to bury myself in her warm body, give her pleasure, and take some of my own. But we’re both fatigued and need our rest. I tuck her close and press kisses to her hair as my hand possessively spans her waist. This is my woman. I will do what it takes to protect her.

As she drifts off in my arms, I realize how far we’ve come from those first days of pretense and lies. Now truth flows between us like a river finding its natural course. Our enemies are legion—Tony’s thugs, corporate mercenaries, corrupted officials. But they hunt a slave, a specimen, a prize to be claimed.

Let them search. What they’ll find is something else entirely—two warriors bound by choice and trust, protecting each other with the fierce devotion that once made gladiators brothers beyond blood.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Maya

I can’t resist. When I wake in the middle of the night, I power up the phone to check messages. The screen glows in the darkness, casting shadows across Damian’s sleeping face. Laura’s latest message makes my blood run cold: “Security teams spotted in your area. Moving in grid pattern. Get out NOW.”

A truck’s engine rumbles past Kane’s shop above. Could be innocent—or not. My fingers find Damian’s shoulder, squeezing gently. His eyes snap open instantly, alert and focused despite the hour.

“Time to move,” I whisper. “They’re close.”

He rises silently, already gathering our meager supplies. No need to explain who “they” are—we both know the pharmaceutical companies won’t give up their pursuit easily. Not when they think his DNA holds the key to extended human life—and the billions that knowledge will bring.

After a quick text to Kane, he meets us at the hidden exit, his expression grim. “Back of the shop. Got an old Chevy truck. Keys under the visor.” He presses something into my hand—a flip phone, ancient but functional. “Burners are traceable these days. This? This is prehistoric. They won’t look for it.”

“I can’t take your truck—”

“Consider it payment for when you trained my kid after his mom died.” His scarred face softens slightly. “I’ll never forgot how you gave him a reason to live again. Some things matter more than money. Get him somewhere safe, Maya.”

Although he might not know Damian understands English, he leans in and whispers, “I see how you look at him… and how he looks at you. You deserve something good in your life.”

The night air hits like a slap as we emerge behind the shop. More engines in the distance—definitely not innocent traffic at this hour. Damian moves with predatory grace, scanning shadows while I locate Kane’s truck.

A flash of movement catches my eye—men in dark tactical gear moving between buildings across the street. My heart nearly stops when I recognize one of the men—the same close-cropped hair and rigid posture as the security team from the warehouse. They’ve swapped their corporate gear for nondescript tactical black, but their military precision gives them away. These aren’t local cops or FBI—they’re mercenaries.

“Down!” I hiss, pulling Damian into the shadows beside a dumpster. The security team passes within feet of us, their radios crackling with coded transmissions.

“Grid seven clear,” one says. “Moving to eight.”

“Contact in nine,” another voice responds. “Possible target vehicle spotted heading east.”

They’re hunting us like animals. Professional mercenaries with military training, unlimited resources, and the determination of men chasing immortality… and unlimited money.

Damian’s hand grips mine in the darkness, his touch steady despite the danger. The heat of his body against my back reminds me of all the reasons we can’t let them win.

When the team moves past, we make our break for Kane’s truck. It starts on the first try—thank god for small mercies. I take the wheel since Damian’s still learning, though his progress with modern vehicles amazes me.

We ease out of the alley with lights off, using only moonlight until we’re far enough away to risk being seen. Damian keeps watch, his warrior’s instincts scanning for threats as I navigate the maze of industrial streets.

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