Page 40

Chapter Forty

D amian

The Kansas landscape rolls past our windows, endless flat fields replacing desert vistas. Maya handles the truck with the same determined grace she shows in fighting, making the unwieldy vehicle dance through the network of back roads.

Even in this tense moment, I find myself admiring her fierce concentration, the way her hands move confidently on the wheel. She catches my admiring gaze and flashes that smile that never fails to make my heart race. In the backseat, her father dozes fitfully, his face troubled even in sleep.

We skipped lunch and dinner, trying to reach the sanctuary, which they call Second Chance, before our pursuers catch up with us. I’d been dreaming of the past, but memories of arena sand fade as I watch Maya navigate this modern world with growing confidence. Even exhausted, she maintains the quiet strength that first drew me to her.

“We should stop soon,” she says, checking the ancient dash gauges. “Need gas before we hit the next stretch.”

The small farm town looks exactly like the last twenty that we passed—a cluster of buildings surround one gas station. This one is older and shabbier than most. It has two pumps.

“I’ll handle this,” Maya says as we pull up. “Less chance of being remembered if they only see a woman alone.”

I watch through sun-streaked windows as she interacts with the station attendant, her body language carefully casual. She’s learned deception well—a thought that brings both pride and sadness. The arena taught me similar skills, hiding strength behind submission until the right moment struck.

Her father stirs as she returns. “Need anything inside, you two? Bathroom break?”

“I’ll go.” Franky stretches, joints popping. “Getting too old for long car rides.”

When he’s gone, Maya slides closer to me on the bench seat. “How are you holding up? Really?”

The question carries layers of meaning. How am I handling this strange journey? The approach of reunion with my gladiator brothers? The constant threat of pursuit?

“I am…” I search for the right words in English, but I don’t know enough of her language to speak my heart in them. I continue in Latin. “At peace. The path ahead holds danger, but we face it together.”

Her smile warms places the sun can’t touch. “Even after everything, you stay centered. I marvel at you more often than you know, Damian.”

“My father taught that true balance comes not from avoiding storms, but from finding stillness within them.”

Maya’s hand covers mine. “You talked about him at the hidden pool, but I’d love to know more about him.”

The request honors me, so my words come easily. “He believed knowledge was worth any price. That wisdom could be found in unexpected places.” Like now—a Greek philosopher’s son and an American fighter finding common ground across two millennia. “He would have liked you.”

“Yeah?” Her eyebrow lifts playfully. “A female fighter who trains gladiators?”

“A warrior who fights with both mind and body. Who protects those in her care, no matter the cost.” My free hand cups her cheek. “Who shows me daily that some bonds transcend time itself.”

The kiss, when it comes, feels inevitable as sunrise. Her lips carry the warmth of summer winds, the strength of destiny, the promise of sanctuary ahead. My thumbs brush the corners of her jaw as she deepens the contact, her small sound of pleasure making my blood sing.

It’s hard not to wish we were back in the swimming hole, and that I’d had the time to make her come apart from my touch.

The ancient phone’s buzz shatters our moment. Maya pulls back reluctantly, checking the message. Her face pales.

“Laura says they’ve infiltrated local law enforcement around the sanctuary. Setting up fake checkpoints, monitoring every approach.” She scrolls further. “They’re concentrating all their resources in a tight circle around our destination. Creating a dragnet we can’t slip through.’

Her father returns, catching her last words. “How close are we?”

“Maybe fifty miles out. But that’s where they’re focusing everything—manpower, drones, corrupt cops.” She shows me the phone’s screen. “Laura says they’ve essentially created a fortress around the sanctuary. They plan to let us get close, then close the trap.”

I see the tactical logic through a gladiator’s eyes. “They know their target. Instead of spreading resources thin across the country…”

“They’re waiting where they know we have to go.” Maya’s jaw sets in that determined line I’ve come to know well. “We need a new plan.”

The sun edges lower as we pull back onto our route. But now every passing mile brings us closer to the enemy’s strongest position. Every moment of peace could be our last before the storm breaks.

Maya’s hand squeezes my thigh with affection, her touch both comfort and promise. The kiss we shared still lingers on my lips, reminding me what we fight for.

Not just survival now, but a future worth claiming.