Page 29 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
C assius
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, uncomplicated affection. 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?”
She sounds… empty. As though the tears she must have shed drained every ounce of affection she once held for me, leaving nothing but blankness.
“I’m sorry.” My words tumble out in a rush. “I was a fucker. Not just tonight, but these past weeks. I let memories of who I was—who I never want to be again—poison everything good here. Everything good between us.”
She doesn’t invite me in. Instead, she leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest like armor. “You hurt me. You hurt everyone here.”
“I know.” After one step forward, I catch myself and retreat when she tenses. “I can’t undo what I did. But I want to make amends, if you’ll let me. Just tell me how I can win back your… trust.” I almost said affection, but that would be far too much to ask.
She studies me, eyes narrowed, as though she’s searching for any trace of the arrogant patrician who wounded her—wounded all my friends—so deeply. Instead, I let her see only remorse and determination.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice is hollow as she shrugs. “I’ve decided to leave Second Chance.”
My blood runs cold and suddenly I can’t feel my body. “Leaving?”
“I’ve already texted Laura. Told her I’ll stay until I find and train my replacement.”
“Diana, please—” I start forward again, but she holds up her hand like a shield between us.
“Don’t.” Her voice shakes. “You don’t get to ask me to stay. Not after everything you’ve done.” She grips her throat, covering her most vulnerable flesh as though she fears I might cross the space to attack her physically. “I’m canceling tomorrow’s lesson, but will see you the day after at our regular time.”
My hands clench at my sides, fighting the urge to grab her, kiss her, show her exactly what she’s walking away from. But I force myself to stay still, knowing this isn’t the time.
She straightens and tries to pull her face into the professional expression she uses with new students. “I hope you won’t let your personal feelings interfere with your therapy. It’s done wonders for your strength and stamina, and I hope you choose to continue your lessons. We can both be adults about it.”
She turns to leave, then pivots back to stare at me, her expression cold as ice.
“And one more thing.” Her nostrils flare, lips pursed. “There will be no reconciliation. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, and one thing I’ve learned. It’s never wise to go backward.”
After she closes the door, I’m left standing in the cool night air, my world spinning off its axis.