Chapter 1
Chapter One
Sulla
I watch from my cabin window as Flavius swings his woman into his arms, both of them laughing.
The sanctuary’s gardens are strung with lights for their engagement party.
Everyone’s there—all the men from the Fortuna, their partners, even some of the kids.
Music drifts across the property, warm and alive.
I’m not invited.
That’s not strictly true. Laura invited me.
But an invitation isn’t the same as a welcome.
She can’t make them want me there. She can’t make me less…
me. So the gardens fill with light and laughter, and I stay where I always stay—at the edge, where I do the least damage.
I turn from the window and pull up the email on my phone. I’ve read it three times today.
Dear Mr. Sulla,
Congratulations! You’ve been selected to participate in Elite Crucible: World’s Ultimate Test…
My thumb rests over the delete button. I’ve been hesitating for two days.
The show is brutal—thirty days in the Scottish Highlands, military-style challenges designed to break people. Former special forces operatives screaming in your face. Sleep deprivation. Hunger. Cold. Psychological warfare.
I spent decades as a ludus master and know what it takes to break someone.
I have broken men.
What I don’t know is whether there’s anything inside me that can be rebuilt.
A knock on my door pulls me from the screen. I know it’s Varro before I open it. He’s the only one who checks on me.
Party clothes tonight—nice shirt, actual shoes instead of boots. He must have stepped away from the celebration.
“You’re not coming,” he says. Not a question.
“No.”
He studies me for a long moment. We’ve known each other since the ludus—him a gladiator, me the man with the whip. That he’s standing here at all is more grace than I deserve.
“Laura says you’ve been… quiet. Even for you.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“She means isolated.”
“I’m always isolated.” I lean against the doorframe. “What do you want, Varro?”
“To ask if you’re okay.”
The laugh escapes before I can stop it. Bitter.
Sharp. “I gave Cassius brain damage with a clay jar. Thrax still calls me an asshole every time he thinks I’m out of earshot.
Quintus won’t sit at the same table. Cassius—the one I hurt most—is somehow the kindest of all of them, which is almost worse.
And tonight everyone is celebrating. My presence would ruin it.
” I meet his gaze. “Do I seem okay to you?”
Varro doesn’t flinch. “You could come. The others wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s not the same as wanting me there.”
“Sulla—”
“I’m leaving.” The words come out before I’ve decided to say them. But once they’re in the air, I know they’re true. “I applied to a reality show. Got accepted. I’m leaving in three days.”
His eyebrows rise. “A reality show?”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “I know how it sounds.”
“Actually, I was going to ask which one.”
I tell him. Watch his expression shift from surprise to understanding.
“That’s… intense,” he says finally.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The real question. The one I’ve been avoiding even in my own head.
“Because there, they’ll know the headlines, but not the man,” I say quietly. “For one month, I can be just another contestant. Not the ludus master. Not the monster everyone crosses the street to avoid. Just… Sulla.”
“You could be that here.”
“Could I?” I gesture toward the party, the lights, the laughter. “They’re all happy, Varro. All of you. You found Laura. Thrax found Skye. Even Cassius—the man I destroyed—he found Diana. You’ve all built something beautiful here.”
“And you haven’t?”
I huff out a humorless laugh. Can’t help it. “I built a cabin as far from everyone as possible. That’s not beautiful. That’s just… alone.”
Varro is quiet. In the distance, someone starts singing. Sounds like Draco, drunk and happy.
“What happens after the show?” Varro asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not coming back.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “I don’t think so.”
“Sulla.” His voice is gentle. Too gentle. “Running won’t fix this.”
“Maybe not. But staying sure as hell isn’t fixing it either.” I straighten. “I need this, Varro. Need to be someone else for a while. Someone who doesn’t carry what I did. Someone without decades of cruelty following him around like a shadow.”
He watches me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “When do you leave?”
“Tuesday morning. Early.” I’ll have to buy tickets, but the decision is settled now.
“Does Laura know?”
“I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“She’ll try to talk you out of it.”
“I know.”
Another stretch of silence. The music shifts to something slower. I can picture them all down there—paired off, in love, belonging. Everything I’m not.
“For what it’s worth,” Varro says, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“I’m not looking for anything. Just… away.”
“That’s still something to find.” He turns to go, then pauses. “The show has a prize, doesn’t it?”
“Quarter million for first place.”
“You don’t need the money.”
“No.” Laura set up accounts for all of us from the Fortuna gold. I’m independently wealthy and still completely alone. The irony isn’t lost on me.
“Then why do it?”
I could lie. Should lie. But Varro’s been more honest with me than I deserve.
“Because if I stay here, watching all of you be happy while everyone hates me, I’m going to do something stupid.” I meet his gaze. “This is the least stupid option.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. “Good luck, brother.”
The word catches me off-guard. Brother. As if we’re family. As if I belong.
“I’m not your brother,” I say quietly.
“No,” Varro agrees. “But you could be.”
He leaves before I can respond.
I close the door and lean against it, phone still in my hand. The email glows in the darkness.
The physical trials, the background screening, the psychological interviews—months of vetting designed to expose weakness—are already behind me. I passed.
Filming begins April 20. Please confirm your attendance by replying to this email.
One month in the Scottish Highlands. Military challenges. No phones. No contact with the outside world. No one knowing what I really am.
One month to be someone else.
Maybe a month to figure out if there’s anything inside me worth salvaging.
Or maybe a month to prove I’m exactly the monster everyone thinks I am.
Either way, it’s better than staying here. Better than watching Flavius dance with his woman while I rot alone in this cabin I built to keep everyone safe from me.
I type the response with steady fingers, I confirm my attendance. See you April 20th.
Send before I can change my mind.
Outside, the party continues. Inside, I start packing.
Three days until I leave Second Chance Sanctuary.
Funny. I never thought of this place as a second chance for me. Just for everyone else.
Maybe that was the problem all along.