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I watched Livia walk onto the sands ahead of me, my chest tightening at the way she moved. There was something different in her stride today, something dangerous. Her chin was lifted high, shoulders set with a defiance that made my hands clench around my sword hilt. She looked neither broken nor defeated, as I'd feared she might. Instead, she burned with a cold fury that both impressed and unsettled me.

The morning sun caught the edges of her armor, the same armor I'd helped her into countless times before. But today the familiar ritual had been tainted by the bruises I'd found on her skin, by the way she'd flinched when my fingers brushed certain spots. The memory of those bruises, of my own uselessness the night before, made bile rise in my throat.

Around us, the crowd's roar built to a crescendo, but it felt distant, meaningless. All I could focus on was Livia, the way she tested the edge of her blade with her thumb, the slight tremor in her hands that only someone who knew her as well as I did would notice. She hadn't slept much after I'd finally gotten her to my room. I'd felt her lying awake in my arms, rigid with tension, until exhaustion had finally claimed her in the early hours.

I moved toward her, using the excuse of checking her armor to close the distance between us. My fingers found the familiar straps, adjusting them with practiced ease. She stood perfectly still as I worked, but I could feel the energy radiating off her, like heat from a forge.

"The back strap is loose," I said softly, though it wasn't. I just needed a reason to stay close, to have this moment before whatever came next. My fingers lingered on the leather, remembering how different my touch had been last night, when I'd cleaned her wounds with trembling hands.

The crowd's noise faded to a dull roar in my ears as I stepped closer, close enough that only she would hear my next words. Close enough to smell the lavender oil I'd used to wash her hair in the dark hours before dawn. My throat tightened at the memory.

"I should have..." The words stuck in my throat. Should have what? Should have fought harder against the guards? Should have found a way to stop it? Should have killed Drusus with my bare hands, consequences be damned? All useless thoughts now. "I should have protected you."

She didn't respond, but I felt the slight tensing of her muscles under my hands. Desperate to fill the silence, to make her understand, I continued, "But I will. When this is over, when we're free, I'll make sure he never touches you again. I'll keep you safe from all of it - the violence, the fighting, everything. We'll find somewhere quiet, somewhere-"

"Marcus." Her voice was low, dangerous. She turned to face me, and the look in her eyes made me step back. There was something wild there, something that hadn't been there before last night. Or maybe it had been, and I'd been too blind to see it. "Don't."

Around us, I could hear the other gladiators taking their positions, the creak of leather and clink of metal as they prepared for the fight to come. But I couldn't look away from Livia's face, from the fury and determination I saw there.

I reached for her arm, needing her to understand. "I just want to protect you. To save you from-"

"I don't need saving." The words came out like a whip crack, sharp and final. She stepped closer, close enough that I could see the gold flecks in her eyes, the ones that always seemed to burn brighter when she was angry.

"I'm not telling you to give up," I said quickly, misunderstanding the fire in her eyes for despair. "You're the strongest person I know. Keep fighting, like I know you can. There's always hope, always a way forward. Once this tournament is over, once we've proved our worth-"

She let out a harsh laugh that made me flinch. "You still don't understand." Her hand came up to my chest, pressing against my armor. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but her eyes blazed. "This isn't about giving up or keeping hope alive. This is who I am, Marcus. The fighting, the violence - it's in my blood. I was born with a sword in my hand and fire in my heart."

"But after everything he did..." I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence, the memory of last night still too raw.

"After everything he did, I want to fight more." Her fingers curled into a fist against my chest. "Every bruise, every cut, every humiliation - they don't make me want peace. They make me want to burn the whole world down."

Relief flooded through me. This was the Livia I knew, the warrior who'd captured my heart. "Good. Hold onto that fire. We just need to be patient, play their game a little longer. Once we're free-"

"Marcus." My name on her lips sounded like both a caress and a warning. "I will never stop fighting. Not in the arena, not after. That's not who I am. I'm not made for quiet lives and peaceful gardens."

I smiled, proud of her resilience, missing entirely the weight behind her words. "We'll figure it out together. Whatever comes next-"

The horn sounded again, more insistent this time. Livia's hand dropped from my chest, and something shifted in her expression - a sadness I didn't understand.

"Yes," she said softly, turning away. "Whatever comes next."

I watched her move into position, satisfaction warming my chest. She hadn't given up, hadn't let Drusus break her spirit.

I watched her take her place in the line, and unbidden, the memories of last night crashed over me like a wave of acid. Drusus's languid smile as the guards held me down. His soft footsteps circling Livia. The way he'd looked at me while he... while he...

My vision blurred red at the edges. The sword hilt creaked under my grip as my fingers tightened, remembering how they'd strained against the guards' hold. If I closed my eyes, I could still hear Livia's sharp intake of breath as Drusus's hand had first touched her face. Could still see the way she'd raised her chin, refusing to show fear even then.

The things he'd said to her. The things he'd made me watch.

A single guard would be all it would take. One moment when Drusus's back was turned. I knew a dozen ways to kill a man quickly, and a hundred ways to make it slow. I could imagine it with perfect clarity - my blade opening his throat, watching him try to speak as his life drained away. Or better yet, making him suffer first, letting him feel helpless, letting him know what it was like to be at someone else's mercy.

But that path ended only one way - with my execution, and Livia left alone to face whatever came next. I couldn't save her if I was dead. Couldn't protect her. Couldn't give her the peaceful life she deserved.

The crowd's roar shifted, taking on that particular tone that meant someone important had arrived. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Drusus always made his entrance at the last moment, always had to be the center of attention.

"My dear people!" His voice carried across the arena, that cultured, educated tone that made him so popular with the nobles. I forced myself to look up, to watch him spread his arms wide like some benevolent father figure. He wore white today, pristine and pure, as if to mock everything he'd done in the darkness of last night. "Today, my fighters will show you true courage, true skill!"

The crowd cheered, and I watched Drusus's smile widen. He was in his element here, playing to the masses. They loved him, this wealthy, generous man who provided them such spectacular entertainment. If they only knew what he really was. If they could have seen his face last night, seen the cruel pleasure in his eyes as he...

My hands were shaking now. I could feel Antonius watching me with concern from his position to my left, but I couldn't stop the rage building in my chest. Drusus was still talking, something about honor and bravery, and each word was like a knife in my gut.

"And to my loyal fighters," he continued, turning that false benevolent smile toward us. His eyes passed over me, then lingered just a fraction too long on Livia. "May fortune favor the brave today."

The same words he'd whispered to her last night, just before...

The sword in my hand lifted slightly before I could stop myself. Just a few feet. That's all that separated us. I could end him before the guards reached me. Could wipe that smug smile off his face forever. Could make him pay for every bruise on Livia's skin, every tear she'd refused to shed.

Antonius's hand touched my arm, light but warning. "Steady," he murmured, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

I stood there, sword lowered, and watched him take his place in the viewing box. Watched him arrange himself comfortably to enjoy the spectacle of our fighting and dying for his profit and pleasure. Watched him signal for wine, as casual as if he hadn't destroyed something precious just hours ago.

This was the moment I was supposed to speak to my men, to rile them up, motivate them to go out there and survive. To offer my praise to the Emperor, but today the words didn’t come. The hatred burned so hot in my chest I could barely breathe. It was different from the usual anger I carried into the arena. This was personal, primal. Every beat of my heart seemed to pump more of it through my veins until I felt like I might burst into flames where I stood.

When the gates began to creak open, I welcomed the sound. Finally, something I could kill. Finally, a way to release this fury before it consumed me entirely. I shifted my grip on my sword, glancing one last time at Drusus in his clean white robes, sipping his wine as his command unleashed Hades through the gates.

Sand crunched beneath my feet as I turned to face the nightmare pouring through the gates. The mirage cats came first, their silver-black pelts rippling like oil in the sunlight, each one bigger than a war horse. Behind them, the agluks' horns scraped the gate arch as they thundered onto the sand, their crocodilian jaws already dripping with anticipation.

The other gladiators scattered as the beasts charged. Smart. But all I could see was Drusus's face on every creature that came at me, all I could hear was his laughter mixing with the roars and screams.

The first mirage cat reached our line. I ducked under its leap, my blade opening its belly as it passed over me. Hot blood rained down, and I welcomed it. Another kill. Another moment of violence to drown out the memories of my own powerlessness.

"Marcus!" Antonius's warning came just in time. I rolled left as an agluk's horns swept through the space where I'd been standing. Its crocodile head snapped at me, teeth like swords. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in its black eye, saw the fury twisting my features into something I barely recognized.

Good. Let the rage take over. Let it fuel every strike.

A flash of movement caught my eye - Livia, dancing between two mirage cats. She moved like lightning, like fire given form. Her blade sang through the air, taking one cat's leg at the knee, then spinning to slash the other's throat. Blood sprayed across her armor, and for a moment she looked like some ancient goddess of war, beautiful and terrible.

I started toward her, but a gladiator from the other ludus charged between us. His sword caught the sun as it swung for my head. I parried automatically, muscle memory taking over. He was good, but I was angry. My counter-strike shattered his guard, and my follow-through opened his throat. As he fell, I saw Drusus's face again, saw his eyes widening in surprise, saw-

"Focus!" Antonius appeared at my side, his shield taking a hit meant for me.

I nodded my thanks then spun away from him, toward another opponent. This one wore Drusus's smug smile. My blade found his heart.

Through the chaos, I kept tracking Livia. Tarshi and Septimus had positioned themselves nearby, keeping the worst of the fighting from reaching her. Not that she needed it. She fought like someone possessed, her blade never still, her movements wild but precise.

An agluk's roar shook the arena. The beast charged through our ranks, its massive bulk sending fighters flying. I dove right, came up rolling, and found myself face to face with a mirage cat. Its eyes were the same color as Drusus's. I screamed as I drove my sword up through its jaw, feeling bones crack, feeling hot blood pour over my arms.

Not enough. Not nearly enough blood to wash away what he'd done.

A gladiator's sword scraped across my back, finding a gap in my armor. The pain was nothing compared to what I'd felt watching Livia last night. I turned, caught his next strike on my blade, and put my shoulders into the counter. His head left his body in a clean arc.

Still not enough.

"Marcus!" Livia's voice cut through my rage. She was pressed back by three opponents, fighting with desperate grace. Without thinking, I was moving, cutting through the space between us. A mirage cat tried to block my path. I took its front leg, then its throat, never breaking stride.

I reached her just as she dropped one of her attackers. Together, we faced the other two. We'd trained together so long we didn't need words. She went low, I went high. Her blade hamstrung one man while mine took the other's sword arm. The killing strikes were simultaneous, perfect, like a dance we'd practiced a thousand times.

For a moment, our eyes met across the bodies. Blood streaked her face, but her eyes burned brighter than ever. She was magnificent. Unstoppable. Everything I loved about her condensed into this moment of perfect violence.

Then the agluk was there, its massive head swinging between us. I dove one way, she the other. Its tail swept across the sand, catching fighters from both sides, sending them sprawling. Its hooves crushed one man's chest before anyone could react.

I scrambled up, saw Tarshi and Septimus moving to flank the beast. Saw Livia rolling to her feet, already advancing. The agluk's head weaved between us, trying to track multiple threats. Blood from its earlier wounds had turned its brown hide black.

Looking past it, I caught a glimpse of Drusus in his viewing box, leaning forward with interest, wine forgotten in his hand. Watching Livia. Always watching Livia.

The rage roared back, drowning out everything else. I charged the agluk head-on, ignoring Antonius's shout of warning. My blade struck its throat just as Tarshi and Septimus hamstrung its back legs. The beast bellowed, rearing up. Livia appeared beneath it, her sword driving up into its belly.

We fell back as it crashed down, the impact shaking the arena. Its tail thrashed once, twice, then went still. Around us, the fighting continued, but for a moment all I could see was Drusus's face, his slight frown of disappointment that we'd survived.

I turned, looking for the next target, the next outlet for this burning in my chest. There were still two mirage cats alive, still plenty of gladiators from the other ludus. Still so many ways to spill blood.

"Together!" Antonius called, reforming our line. I moved into position automatically, feeling Livia fall in beside me. Her breathing was heavy, her sword arm trembling slightly, but her eyes still burned with that wild light that both thrilled and worried me.

Across the sand, the remaining fighters regrouped. The surviving mirage cats circled wide, looking for weakness. The last agluk pawed the ground, preparing to charge.

Good. Let them come. Let them all come. Every drop of blood was a payment toward what Drusus owed. Every kill was a promise of what I'd do to him one day.

I raised my sword, feeling the familiar weight, feeling the rage pulse in time with my heartbeat. Beside me, Livia did the same, and for a moment, I could pretend we were in perfect sync, fighting for the same future.

The agluk charged, and the world dissolved into blood and steel once more.