Page 19 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Chapter Nineteen

C assius

I burst from sleep to wide awake, my mind swirling with yesterday’s memories of the hunt, the thrill of the chase echoing in my bones. I need to move, to feel that rush again.

Without a second thought, I dress and stride to the barn. In the gray morning light, the air is crisp. A few leaves on the trees are turning yellow. Autumn must be coming. I pause at Buddy’s stall, my usual mount, but something pulls me further. I approach Atlas’s stall. He’s the larger, more spirited of our two horses.

“Hey, boy,” I murmur, reaching out to stroke his nose. He snorts softly, pushing against my hand. “What do you say we go for a ride?”

I grab a saddle, frowning slightly at its shape. It’s nothing like the comfortable sella I remember from my estate. Still, it will do. I work quickly. Although I’ve been riding with this tack for weeks, something is different this morning. My hands now move with surprising surety.

Leading Atlas out of the barn, I take a deep breath. The sun is just cresting the horizon, burning away the morning mist in a low fog. For a moment, I consider waiting for Diana. She’d want to know where I’m going, would probably insist on coming along. But the urge to ride, to be alone with these new-old memories, is too strong.

After mounting Atlas with ease, I settle into the saddle. It feels right, like coming home. With a gentle nudge, we’re off, starting at a slow trot as we leave the corral behind.

The property stretches out before us, a mixture of open grassy fields and woods. As we pick up speed, the wind whips through my hair. Each hoofbeat seems to echo in my chest, stirring something primal inside me.

Memories flash through my mind—galloping across my family’s estate, the exhilaration of the hunt, the pride in my father’s eyes as I mastered a difficult jump. The ache of nostalgia is almost physical, but it’s overwhelmed by the sheer joy of the moment.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I lean forward and urge Atlas into a full gallop. The world blurs around us as we fly across the field. I can feel every powerful movement of the horse beneath me, our bodies moving perfectly together.

This is freedom. This is power. This—this is who I am.

I laugh out loud, the sound carried away by the wind. For the first time since waking in this strange new world, I feel truly alive. My head is clear, not even a hint of the headache that has plagued me daily. My body feels stronger than it has since I awoke. Every sense is heightened—the thundering hooves, the rushing wind, and the earthy scent of horse and grass.

We race across the property, leaping over small streams and fallen logs with ease. It’s as if Atlas can sense my mood, matching my enthusiasm with energy of his own.

Time loses all meaning as we ride. It could be minutes or hours later when I finally notice Atlas’s labored breathing. Reluctantly, I slow our pace, letting him cool down as I guide him back toward the barn.

As we approach, my heart sinks. Diana is standing there, her arms crossed, a look of shock and disapproval on her face. I can already imagine her concerns, her gentle reminders about safety and my recovery. Why is it only now that I remember how fragile my brain is? Dr. Reid would never approve.

But as I bring Atlas to a stop in front of Diana, I can’t bring myself to regret this moment. My body is humming with energy, my mind clearer than it’s been in weeks. Whatever lecture awaits me, it was worth it.

I dismount, patting Atlas’s neck gratefully. “Good boy,” I murmur, before turning to face Diana.

Her eyes are wide, and her lips are pursed as though she’s holding something back—holding a lot back. Even as I brace myself for her reaction, part of me longs to be back in the saddle, racing across the fields again.