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Chapter Forty-Six

D amian

I wake with a start, disoriented for a moment. Then I relax into the bed when I realize my Maya is nestled in my arms. The sanctuary. We made it. We’re safe.

Instead of my morning meditation, I focus on all the things I’m thankful for. Today, they all revolve around the woman still sound asleep next to me.

Last night transformed something already precious into something unbreakable. When her eyes finally flutter open and find mine, her smile contains the same certainty I feel in my heart.

“Good morning,” she whispers, reaching up to trace my jaw with gentle fingertips.

“Indeed, it is,” I reply, capturing her hand to press a kiss against her palm. “Although there are some spots I failed to kiss last night and I want to give every measure of your skin the worship it deserves, we should probably join the others soon.”

She sighs, but nods in agreement. After all the difficulties we’ve been through to reach this sanctuary, we both understand the importance of building connections with my brothers and their community.

The sanctuary’s main hall fills with the rich aroma of breakfast as the sun shines through high windows as we enter, holding hands.

What Maya and I shared last night erased the final barriers between us. We are together. A couple. Anything else the gods throw our way will be met with our combined wisdom, strength, and will.

I lean close, nuzzle Maya’s neck to catch her sweet scent, and then kiss her cheek. Nothing improper, just a clear sign to anyone watching—and they all are—that this is my woman and anyone who doesn’t treat her with respect will have to deal with me.

No one looks surprised. There are already three other mated couples at Second Chance. By the looks my brothers are flashing me, they all approve.

The scent of fresh bread and garum mingles with unfamiliar modern dishes, creating a bridge between past and present.

Maya’s thigh presses against mine as we sit, reminding me of her affection. Her eyes track the complex dynamics playing out around us—the way Varro naturally takes the lead in discussions, how Thrax listens more than he talks. Perhaps she even notices that Sulla hasn’t joined us this morning.

“The corporate hunters have been circling closer,” Laura explains, opening her tablet and stabbing at a map with her finger. “But Dara Hobson’s team is ready for them and in full protection mode. For now, we’re secure.”

“We must thank her,” I say, tightening my grip on Maya’s hand, “if she helped save our roast.”

“Bacon,” Maya corrects with a laugh. Laura and Varro smile. There will be many complications with our translators in the months and years to come.

“Any word of Tony Esposito, the mob boss who now has a vendetta against us?” Maya asks, tension evident in her voice.

“Being one of the richest people in the world has its advantages,” Laura says. “Dara’s contacts assure her the FBI is building a case. I forwarded the info on your father’s flash drive through secure channels. They’re going to indict him on multiple charges—racketeering, money laundering, and attempted kidnapping. He’ll be tied up in court for years, and then hopefully behind bars.”

Just as I feel Maya relax against me at that news, Laura adds, “Tony’s small potatoes. It’s the pharmaceutical companies we need to worry about. They have deep pockets and deeper influence.”

The small potatoes comment doesn’t translate well, or make sense, but I understand her point. We don’t need to worry about Tony, at least for the moment.

Maya’s gaze travels to the chair her father sat in last night and she stiffens next to me. He hasn’t joined us for breakfast, choosing instead to help in the stable with morning feeding. The change in him is subtle, but significant. We’ve been here less than a day and he’s already seeking ways to contribute rather than scheme.

Movement near the hall’s entrance draws my attention. Lucius stands partially in shadow, his pale features and lighter eyes making him seem nearly ghostlike. There’s something almost supernatural in his keen gaze as it sweeps the room, missing nothing.

“Your father seeks redemption,” he says quietly to Maya as he passes our table. “For the first time, he considers the good of the many instead of just himself.”

The observation strikes uncomfortably close to the truth, as Lucius’s insights often did even in our days in the ludus . He’d been valued more for his connection to the gods than his actual intelligence—or his ability to fight. It was a burden I saw weigh on him daily.

“Is he…” Maya starts to ask, but Lucius has already moved on, sitting a few feet away from the group where he can observe everything.

More of my brothers filter in as morning progresses. Each brings his own reaction to my return—Rurik’s booming laugh, Flavius’s rapid-fire talk as he pesters Maya with questions about the modern fighting world, Quintus’s quiet nods of understanding. The conversations switch fluidly between Latin and English, translation devices making communication seamless.

A flash of movement through the windows catches my eye. Sulla, standing apart as always, watching the gathering with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before. Not the cruel calculation of our ludus days, but something more complex. When he notices my attention, he doesn’t sneer or look away. Instead, he offers a slight nod before disappearing around the building’s corner.

“That’s new,” Varro murmurs, following my gaze. “He’s been… different since waking. Not completely changed, but…”

“Time shifts all things,” I reply, remembering Father’s teachings about how even the hardest stone can be transformed by patient waves.

Laura discusses security measures and sanctuary protocols, but I find my attention drawn to Maya. She’s listening intently, but I see the uncertainty she tries to hide.

Being dropped into this world of brother gladiators and ancient bonds must feel as overwhelming as when I awoke to a world of hot running water and giant mechanical beasts that moved faster than the most expensive horses.

As if reading my thoughts, she squeezes my hand under the table. Her strength amazes me—facing everything from corporate hunters to time-lost warriors with unwavering courage.

“The training area is yours whenever you’re ready,” Varro says, drawing me back to the conversation. “We’ve combined traditional methods with modern equipment. Perhaps…” He glances at Maya. “Perhaps you have techniques to share.”

The inclusion of Maya in this offer feels thunderous. I see similar acceptance in the others’ expressions—they understand she’s not just my savior but my partner in all things—and a warrior, a modern-day gladiatrix in some aspects.

A commotion at the door interrupts whatever response I might have made. Franky enters—dusty from the stables, but with an expression clearer than I’ve ever seen.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, unusual humility in his voice. “But I needed to ask… that is…” He straightens, visibly gathering courage. “I know I have no right, after everything.” He shrugs as his mouth quirks up on one side. “But this place, what you’re building here… I’d like to help. To be useful, if you’ll have me.”

The words cost him—I see it in how his hands clench, fighting the urge to pull at his collar or bargain or run. For perhaps the first time in his life, he’s asking for something without trying to scheme his way into it.

Maya’s sharp intake of breath beside me speaks volumes. She’s seen her father talk his way into and out of countless situations, but this naked honesty is new.

Varro and Laura exchange glances. “The sanctuary offers second chances to those who truly seek them,” Laura says carefully. “But trust must be earned.”

“I understand.” Franky nods, and for once, he doesn’t try to press his advantage or make promises he can’t keep. “I’ll keep helping Diana with the horses for now. She says I have a good eye for their moods.”

After he leaves, I feel Maya relax slightly beside me. “That’s… different,” she whispers.

“He begins to see beyond himself,” Lucius observes from his corner, those pale eyes missing nothing. “As we all must, in time.”

The morning light strengthens as we continue discussing sanctuary life. Through the windows, I see Sulla walking the perimeter, his stance different from our ludus days—less predatory, more watchful. Protection rather than threat.

“He’s lately taken to the business of protecting our sanctuary,” Varro says, noting my attention. “Things change. Not always quickly, not always completely. But they change.”

“Sometimes even for the better,” Thrax jokes from beside his woman, Skye. I understand she created the translators that allow us to interact with this new world we’ve dropped into.

Maya’s fingers interlock with mine as conversations flow around us. Brothers reunited, a father seeking redemption, a sanctuary offering new beginnings to wounded souls.

The path ahead still holds dangers—corporate hunters circling, pharmaceutical companies regrouping, the weight of two thousand years to reconcile.

But here, in this moment, I feel something I haven’t known since I parted from my father: the sense of belonging not just to a place or a brotherhood, but to a future worth building.

Maya leans closer, her warrior’s strength and tender heart continuing to amaze me. “Welcome home,” she whispers.

Home. Yes. Not just the sanctuary or the brotherhood, but wherever this remarkable woman and I face life together.

The morning sun paints the hall in shades of hope as we begin planning our new life. Outside, modern security systems guard ancient warriors while horses stamp in modern stables. Everything here bridges past and present, just as Maya and I bridge two worlds.

I absently wonder who named this place Second Chance. It’s already proving to be true.