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Chapter Forty-Four

M aya

As my eyes adjust to the light, I catch my first glimpse of Second Chance sanctuary. A collection of buildings spreads across a lush, grassy field, and horses graze in paddocked fields in the distance. Behind me, my father emerges from the tunnel, looking exhausted but relieved as he takes in our surroundings.

“Maya!” The woman jogging toward us must be Laura, her face lighting with relief. “When our lookouts heard movement in the old mine entrance…” She breaks off as more figures emerge from the shadows. Her eyes briefly flick to my father, who hangs back awkwardly, unsure of his welcome.

My breath catches as I see them. More gladiators join our original greeting committee. All moving with that distinctive combination of power and grace I’ve come to know in Damian.

Two men break from the group first—one lean and quick as a striking snake, the other broader but moving with similar urgency. “Victor!” they call in unison, using his gladiator name. I haven’t used it in so long I’d almost forgotten it.

“Brothers,” he says, his voice carrying both love and certainty, “I want you all to know that Victor was the name given to me by our masters—a Roman slave name.”

His shoulders straighten as he says, “I am Damian, the Greek name my father gave me. It means to tame, to subdue. He said it would remind me always to master my own nature before attempting to master others.”

The gathered gladiators exchange glances, then Varro steps forward. “Damian,” he says, testing the name as he grips Damian’s shoulder. “It suits you better than Victor ever did. You were always more than what they tried to make you.”

“Damian it is then,” Flavius agrees with a warm smile. “Though you’ll always be brother, no matter your name.”

The reunion becomes a tangle of Latin exclamations and fierce embraces. I try to keep the men straight, recalling stories Damian told me when I couldn’t sleep, and now putting faces with the names.

There’s Rurik, who looks as though he stepped out of a Viking movie, and Zakur, the Phoenician ship captain who struggled mightily to keep them afloat while the deluge bombarded them for days. Their joy at seeing Damian feels almost tangible.

“You look well for a man who’s been missing so long,” Quintus says in careful English. “Though you had us worried, brother.”

“Some things never change,” Flavius adds with a grin. “Still finding the most complicated path possible.”

A blond man, his arm protectively around a woman, steps forward. “Glad to see you alive and well, brother. This is my…” he seems to search for the right word before he says, “my beloved. Diana.”

“May Venus bless your bond, and may it endure like stone.” Damian can’t help glancing at me and pulling me tight—his unspoken declaration of similar feelings about me.

After a few moments, the attention slides from me to my father, who shifts his stance like he’s not sure whether to run or speak. Damian surprises me by gesturing toward him.

“This is Franky, Maya’s father. Despite his… earlier mistakes, he helped us reach you.”

Laura steps forward, all business despite the emotional reunion. “We need to get you inside. You’re probably tired and hungry.

We move toward the nearest building—a long, low-slung rustic structure that must be the barracks. I imagine the kitchen is in there, because that’s where the food smells are coming from.

Inside, long banquet tables fill the space, encouraging discussion and the joy of breaking bread together. The gladiators arrange themselves with subconscious precision—those who trained with Damian staying close, while Thrax and Cassius, who I understand didn’t join the men until they met at the docks before they boarded the Fortuna , maintain a respectful distance.

“The others will want to hear everything,” Laura says, “but first, you need food, I’m sure. And then rest. Real rest.” She eyes our mud-streaked clothes and exhausted faces. “We’ve prepared quarters for you.”

“You’re right. I’m famished and exhausted. Still, can you hint at what you did to keep us safe? I have a feeling that in addition to some help we had along the way,” I eye Damian as I think of Kane, the tribe, and what just might have been the Goddess Tyche, “that you had a hand in things.”

“Dara Hobson has elected herself the gladiators’ patron,” Laura explains.

Other than the gladiators, Dara is one of the most famous people on Earth. She’s a billionaire many times over.

“Her team created a false electronic trail leading the security forces toward Oklahoma. Meanwhile, we—well, Dara—had federal agents stationed along the likely pursuit route to check vehicles for customs violations. Legitimate enough to delay them without revealing our involvement.”

“And the tribal lands? Did you do anything to help them escape retribution?” I would hate for the tribe to suffer for saving our lives.

“Protected. Joseph’s people filed immediate complaints with three separate federal agencies about unauthorized surveillance on sovereign land. Even pharmaceutical companies hesitate to openly violate tribal sovereignty with federal scrutiny involved.”

It’s only when my body relaxes that I realize I’ve been worried about Joseph, Sarah, and the others more than I care to admit.

When my father shifts uncomfortably, all eyes turn to him. After an awkward moment, Varro steps forward.

“You brought our brother home,” he says simply. “Whatever else lies between us can wait until everyone has rested.”

After we eat, as Laura leads us toward our quarters, I catch glimpses of the life they’ve built here. A training area combines modern equipment with traditional methods—I can’t wait to see it in action. Gardens and workshops suggest self-sufficiency. Everything speaks of ancient wisdom adapting to modern needs.

“There’s a small cabin on the north edge for your father,” Laura mentions quietly. “Varro thought he might want some space… and you two might want some privacy.” I nod gratefully, watching as another sanctuary member guides my dad toward his temporary quarters.

She leads us to what I can only describe as a tiny home. It’s small and rustic and set back from the testosterone-filled barracks. It has everything we need. A large bed, a sitting area, and windows overlooking the valley to the north and the horse corral to the south.

There’s a small kitchen and table laden with fruit, wine, bread, and dried meats—things I assume Damian will find comforting—everything we need to finally rest without fear.

“Shower, sleep, and relax—possibly for the first time since you woke up.” Laura’s kind gaze lands on Damian.

The moment she’s gone, Damian pulls me close. The tension he’s been carrying since the reunion finally eases.

“You’re home,” I whisper against his chest, even as I wonder what my place is here. Do I belong? Have I even been invited?

“Is this home?” His arms tighten around me. “I only know one thing. Home is where you are, Maya. The rest… that will take time to sort through.”

Outside our window, the sun shines over Second Chance sanctuary. Somewhere out there, corporate forces still search. My father still needs to face the consequences of his choices. And Damian must find his place among brothers who knew him in another life.

But for now, we have this moment. This peace. This chance to breathe without fear for the first time in what feels like forever.