Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Sulla
Dawn comes whether I’m ready for it or not.
I’ve been awake for hours. Watching the light change in the crack under the door. Counting breaths. Counting ways this could go wrong.
The reunion special tapes at 2 PM, and all this time, Reid has been two hundred yards away.
I shower, shave, and get dressed slowly. Black jeans and a pale blue button-down. My hands shake buttoning it. I look into the mirror and barely recognize the man looking back. Three months ago, I looked empty. Stone. Now I just look terrified.
The reunion tapes at 2 PM. Six hours from now. Six hours of waiting. Of thinking. Of terror.
There’s a knock on my cabin door at ten AM. Cassius and Diana. Thrax and Skye. Varro and Laura. Quintus and Nicole. Victor and Maya. More filing in behind them.
“Breakfast,” Diana announces, holding up a basket. “You’re not spending the morning alone spiraling.”
“Moral support,” Cassius adds. “For the long wait.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just moves to lean against the wall beside the door, crossing his arms and settling in like he intends to stay all day.
“Whatever happens today,” Cassius says quietly, “you’ve already changed. We’ve all seen it. That’s real, regardless of what she decides.”
I nod. Can’t speak.
At 1:30, we walk to the main building together. The reunion is being filmed in the large common room—chairs arranged in a semicircle, cameras positioned, lights bright.
Other contestants are arriving. Trevor waves. Jacks nods. Everyone takes their assigned seats.
And then Reid walks in.
She’s wearing a simple green dress that brings out her eyes. Her short hair is spiky, different than she looked in the Highlands. She looks beautiful and guarded and so far away even though she’s twenty feet from me.
Our eyes meet.
She doesn’t look away this time. Just holds my gaze for a long moment.
I can’t read her expression. Can’t tell if she’s here to forgive or to say goodbye.
Mac appears. “Everyone, take your seats. We go live in five minutes.”
Reid sits in the chair next to mine. Our assigned spots.
Less than a foot of space between us. Might as well be an ocean.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey.”
That’s all we manage before the producer starts the countdown.
Reid
I barely slept last night.
Laid in the guest cabin staring at the ceiling, knowing Sulla was somewhere on these grounds. So close. Wondering what I’d say when I saw him.
This morning, walking to the main building, I saw the sanctuary in daylight for the first time. It’s beautiful—gardens, therapy building, families walking together. This is where he lives. Where he’s been trying to become something different.
And now I’m about to sit beside him in front of cameras and the world and figure out if three months of watching him change is enough.
When I walk into the common room, I see him immediately.
He’s standing with several other gladiators they showed during the special about him. They’re clustered around him like a protective wall. One of the gladiators’ wives says something that makes Sulla almost smile.
He looks up. Sees me.
Time suspends.
God, I’ve missed his face.
Even furious, even betrayed, even broken—I’ve missed him.
Mac calls us to seats. I sit in the chair next to Sulla’s. Our assigned spots.
Only inches between us. I can feel his presence like a physical thing.
“Hey,” I manage.
“Hey.”
His voice does something to my chest. Makes it hard to breathe.
Then Mac is counting down and we’re live and there’s no more time to think.
Sulla
Mac starts with general questions. How was the experience? Favorite challenge? What did you learn?
Safe questions. Easy answers.
I respond when asked. Aware of every breath Reid takes beside me. Every small movement.
Then Mac shifts.
“Let’s talk about the partnerships that formed during the show. Sulla and Reid—you two had the strongest partnership. Until the last challenge.” He pauses. “Sulla, the documentary episode revealed your past as a ludus master in ancient Rome. Can you tell us what that meant?”
Here we go.
I take a breath. “In Rome, a ludus master controlled gladiator training. My job was to prepare men for the arena using whatever methods worked—which typically meant fear and brutality. I held absolute power over the men I trained. I used that power cruelly for almost two decades.”
Silence in the room.
“The documentary showed interviews with men you trained. Cassius described permanent brain damage. Thrax, Varro, and others described fear-based training and psychological control.” Mac leans forward. “How do you respond to that?”
“It’s true. All of it.” My voice is flat even though my hands are shaking.
I shove them in my pockets. “I gave Cassius amnesia by hitting him with a clay jar. I beat men bloody for questioning orders. I used fear as my primary tool because that’s what I learned and that’s what worked.
” I pause. “I was exactly what they described. A brutal ludus master who hurt people for most of my adult life.”
Mac turns to the gladiators in the audience. Several are here—Thrax, Varro, Cassius, Quintus, Victor, Flavius, Draco. Even Lucius flew in from where he was teaching halfway around the world.
“You’ve all been watching the show. Watching Sulla in these challenges. Any response?”
Thrax speaks first. “It’s complicated. What he was—that’s real. Can’t erase it. But what we’ve seen on the show… that’s also real. The way he helped Trevor. Ran across that bridge for Reid. That’s not the Sulla we knew.”
Varro nods. “Doesn’t undo the past. But it’s different. He’s different.”
Mac looks at me. “Do you want to say anything to them?”
My mind goes blank. Then I realize I need to say this. Out loud. On camera. Not for Reid. For them. They deserve to hear it from me, publicly, the way their pain was public.
Terror floods through me. What if they reject it? What if it makes things worse?
But that doesn’t matter. This isn’t about me. It’s about giving them what they deserve.
I stand before I can second-guess myself, then turn to face the gladiators.
“I need to apologize. Publicly. On camera. In front of the world. To all of you.” My throat is tight, but I force the words out.
“What I did to you was inexcusable. I held power over you and I abused that power.
I made you afraid. I hurt you—physically, psychologically, permanently.
Cassius, I took years from you–years of not knowing who you were, where you came from, what your life had been.
I can't give that time back or erase the scars I left on all of you. "
I take a shaky breath. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. I’m just saying I’m sorry. And I’m trying to be different. Not because I think it erases what I did. But because it’s the right thing to do. Because you all deserved better. Because I should have been better.”
The room is silent.
Cassius stands. Walks over. Extends his hand.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For saying it. For trying.”
We clasp forearms, the ancient Roman way.
One by one, the others stand. Not all of them. But more than I expected.
Acknowledging. Witnessing.
Not forgiveness. But something.
When I sit back down, my forearm still feels the imprint of Cassius’s grip. My hands won’t stop trembling.
Mac is watching me carefully. “Reid, you’re hearing all this. How does it make you feel?”
Reid
I watch Sulla apologize to the gladiators and something inside me shifts.
This isn’t for me. This isn’t performance, or manipulation to win me back.
This is genuine accountability for what he did.
And when Cassius stands—the man whose memory Sulla destroyed—and shakes his hand, tears prick my eyes.
Mac asks me how it makes me feel.
I take a breath. “Complicated. I’m still processing all of it. The documentary showed what he was. The show showed what he’s becoming. Both are real.”
“Do you believe people can change?”
“I don’t know.” Honest answer. “I want to believe it. But I also know that change doesn’t erase damage.”
“Sulla,” Mac turns to him. “Is there anything you want to say to Reid?”
Sulla
This is it.
Everything I’ve wanted to say for three months. Everything I’ve been too afraid to say. And I have to say it now, in front of cameras, in front of the world.
I turn to face her.
“Reid, I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner.
For letting you fall in love with me without knowing the truth.
For being a coward when it mattered most.” My voice is shaking.
“You asked me in the hotel if I meant it—the Latin, the way I looked at you, all of it. I meant every word. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in…
both my lifetimes. And I need you to know that who I’m trying to be—that work started before you.
That belongs to me. You didn’t make me want to be different.
You showed me that different was possible. That’s not the same thing.”
She’s looking at me now. Really looking.
“I love you,” I say. “I’ve loved you since the rope bridge. Maybe since the pairing. And I know that doesn’t fix what I did. Doesn’t undo the betrayal. Doesn’t change the fact that I should have told you the truth before you fell for me.”
I take a breath. This is the hardest part.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not begging or demanding or expecting anything.
” I meet her eyes. “I’m saying I’ll stand by whatever decision you make.
If you want to walk away and never see me again, I’ll respect that.
If you need time, I’ll give you time. If you can’t forgive me, I understand.
Because loving you means wanting you to be happy.
Even if I’m not part of that happiness.”
The words hurt coming out. But they’re true.