Page 102 of House of Serpents and Slaves

Behind me, I heard the low growl of my men's anger. They'd shed too much blood in his arena, lost too many brothers to his games, to stomach his contempt now. The doors shuddered again, more violently this time. Through the gaps, I caughtglimpses of flames, of running figures, of the world we knew crumbling into chaos.

I met Drusus's eyes and saw nothing there but self-interest and fear. No concern for the dying city, for the people who's money he'd taken for so long. Just a coward trying to save his own skin, willing to sacrifice anyone else to do it.

"Look at you, Marcus," Drusus sneered, taking a step closer. His perfect patrician accent couldn't quite hide the tremor in his voice. "Still playing at being a leader. Did you forget how you ended up here? The great soldier who lost his entire century, who couldn't even protect his own men?"

The old shame burned through me like poison. Behind my eyes, I saw again the ambush, the slaughter, heard the screams of dying legionaries who'd trusted me. Drusus saw the hit land and pressed his advantage.

"You're nothing but a slave who forgot his place. The soldier who could have made a difference? He died in that forest with his men. All that's left is my property."

A crash from outside made the walls shake. Through the gaps in the splintering door, I saw dragon fire illuminate the street in brief, terrible bursts. The screams were getting closer.

"My lord!" A guard burst in from the corridor, his uniform scorched and bloody. "The dragon... it's gone!"

"Gone?" Drusus's voice went deadly quiet. "That beast cost me thirty thousand denarii. Thirty thousand! Do you have any concept of what I had to do to acquire a black dragon? The bribes I paid? The favors I called in?" His face contorted with rage, but all I saw was the calculation behind his eyes - not the loss of a magnificent creature, but the depreciation of an investment. The same way he looked at us when we were injured in the arena, weighing the cost of healing us against replacing us.

"The female gladiator took it," the guard continued, trembling. "Two others went-"

The change that came over Drusus was terrifying to watch. His facade of aristocratic control shattered completely, leaving something rabid and ugly beneath. He seized the guard's tunic, spittle flying as he screamed.

"Find her! I don't care what it takes, I don't care how many of you die doing it. That bitch is my property! Mine! I'll have her back if I have to burn down every village between here and the wastelands!"

The guard stumbled back, terror plain on his face. He'd never seen this side of our master before. But we had. We'd seen it in small glimpses over the years - in the casual cruelty, in the ways he'd force us to kill each other for his entertainment, in how he'd use our friends as leverage to ensure our obedience. The way he'd used Livia to show me who was truly in charge.

In that moment, as Drusus raged about his lost investment, something crystallized in my mind with devastating clarity. All those promises of freedom if we won the tournament, the way he'd dangled Livia before me like a reward - it had all been a lie. Just another way to squeeze more value from his property. He'd never intended to free any of us. We would have won him his fortune, brought him even more prestige, and he would have found new reasons to keep us chained. New threats to hold over us. New ways to make us dance to his tune. The fury rose in me like dragon fire, burning away years of forced subservience. I'd been a soldier once, a leader of men, before he broke me down and rebuilt me into his creature. I'd let him do it, believing there was a path to freedom. But there was no freedom in this man's world - only things to be owned, used, and discarded. My hands trembled on my sword as the rage built, not the hot, familiar anger of combat, but something colder and more deadly. Something that had been waiting years to break free.

The main doors exploded inward in a shower of burning splinters. Through the smoke and chaos, I saw armed figurespouring in - not the organized ranks of legion soldiers, but the strange barbarian shapes of Talfen warriors. Dark shadows swirled around them, snaking through the air and over the walls.

"Get those animals into position!" Drusus barked at his guards. "Form them into a line. They can buy us time while we retreat to the pens." He was already backing away, putting his guards between himself and the danger.

The guards moved to herd us forward, jabbing with spears to drive us toward certain death. Next to me, Varro took a spear point in the shoulder, grunting in pain. These were men we'd eaten with, trained with, men who'd tended our wounds after fights. But now they were just extensions of Drusus's will, treating us like cattle to be sacrificed. I hesitated, gripping my sword tightly.

"Marcus." Antonius was by my side, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Give the word. We're with you."

Through the smoke, I watched Drusus retreating further, shouting orders from the safety of the corridor. "Hold them as long as you can! I don't care how many you lose, just keep them off me until I can reach the tunnels!" A pause, then: "And when you're done here, send men to track down that dragon bitch. I want her found!"

The rage that had been building inside me turned to something else - something cold and precise, like a blade being honed. How many of us had died for his entertainment? How many friends had I been forced to kill in his arena? I thought of Livia, finally free in the sky, and knew I couldn't let him pursue her. Couldn't let him survive to hunt her down.

More townspeople poured through the broken doors, and the guards shoved us harder, trying to force us into a defensive line. But they'd forgotten something crucial in their panic. They'd spent years training us to kill, honing us into weapons. And now, finally, we had a target worthy of everything they'd taught us.

I looked over at Antonius and nodded. A slow smile spread over his face. Around me, I felt the shift in my brothers' stance - subtle changes that the guards, focused on the approaching threat, didn't notice. We'd fought together too long not to read each other's intentions.

It happened in the space of a heartbeat. Antonius moved first, as he always did in the arena - a brutal upward thrust that took the nearest guard under the chin, through the soft flesh of his throat. Before the man's blood had finished spraying, we were all in motion. Years of training, of fighting together, made us deadly efficient. The guards never had a chance to form ranks.

I heard Drusus shouting from the corridor, his voice rising to a panicked shriek as he realized what was happening. "Kill them! Kill them all!"

But his remaining guards were falling too quickly, caught between our blades and the surge of townspeople pouring through the doors. I saw Varro take down two with the same fluid grace he showed in exhibition matches. Cassius fought like a demon, his borrowed sword a blur of motion. Even young Titus, who'd only survived three arena fights, moved with deadly purpose.

I left them to it, pushing through the chaos toward the corridor where Drusus had fled. Behind me, I heard Antonius bellowing orders, organizing our brothers to protect the civilians. He'd always been good at that - at taking my unspoken commands and making them real. They'd hold the ludus. Keep the people safe.

I had other prey to hunt.

The corridors were thick with smoke, but I knew every turn, every shadow. How many times had I walked these halls in chains? How many times had I been dragged, bleeding, back to my cell? I could have navigated them blind.

I caught glimpses of Drusus ahead - his expensive toga flashing white through the haze, his sandals slapping against stone as he ran. He was heading for the training yard, probably hoping to reach the tunnel entrance hidden beneath the equipment shed. His secret escape route, built for just such an emergency.

He'd made it as far as the yard's center when I emerged from the smoke. The same yard where we'd trained in sun and rain and bitter cold. Where we'd learned to kill for his pleasure. Where those who failed had died in the dirt.

"Stay back!" He spun to face me, pulling a jeweled dagger from his belt. His hands were shaking. "I'll have you crucified!"

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