Dawn broke over Rome in streaks of pale gold, casting long shadows through the columns of Lucius’ villa. The scent of jasmine and burning incense drifted through the halls, but Lucius was already awake, dressed in a simple tunic, his mind far from the luxury around him.

  Livia still lay beneath the silk sheets, watching him with a languid expression. “You rise before the sun, yet sleep far past midnight. It’s a wonder you don’t collapse from exhaustion.”

  Lucius glanced back at her, the tension in his jaw evident. “Rome doesn’t sleep. Neither can I.”

  She propped herself up on one elbow, her golden-brown curls tumbling over her shoulder. “You always speak as if you carry the city on your back. Perhaps if you let others bear some of the weight, you wouldn’t have to live like a soldier in your own home.”

  Lucius smirked, strapping the leather vambrace onto his forearm. “Trust is a dangerous thing, Livia. A man who leans on others too often eventually finds a dagger between his ribs.”

  She hummed, stretching lazily across the bed. “Then I suppose you’ll have to be very careful whom you let close.”

  Her words hung in the air, a veiled challenge. But Lucius had no time for games today.

  By midday, the Forum was teeming with life. Merchants peddled their wares, senators exchanged quiet words beneath the looming marble structures, and commoners navigated the maze of Roman politics with wary eyes.

  Lucius strode through the crowd, his mind sharp as a blade. He had arranged a meeting with an old friend—one of the few men in Rome he still trusted.

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  “Lucius.”

  Aulus Maro stood near the steps of the Basilica Julia, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on him. A veteran of the legions, Aulus was built like a statue carved from stone, his presence commanding even in a city of powerful men.

  “I wasn’t certain you would come,” Lucius admitted, clasping the man’s forearm in greeting.

  Aulus chuckled. “You think too little of me. You saved my life in Germania, remember? I don’t forget debts.”

  Lucius exhaled. “Then you understand why I sent for you. Rome is turning against me.”

  Aulus nodded, his expression darkening. “Decimus, Vibius, and the others—yes, I’ve heard. They fear your rise. The Senate is full of old men clinging to power, and you, my friend, are a storm they cannot control.”

  Lucius crossed his arms. “I need to strike before they do. But I also need to know where the real threats lie.”

  Aulus leaned in slightly. “I have a source within Decimus’ inner circle. He speaks of an assassination plot, one more direct than political maneuvering. They’ve hired the Black Talon.”

  Lucius’ blood ran cold. The Black Talon was more than just an assassin—he was a phantom, a shadow spoken of in hushed whispers. Few had ever seen him, and fewer had survived his blade.

  “They move faster than I expected,” Lucius muttered. “That means I must move even faster.”

  Aulus placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Then let’s prepare for war.”

  That night, Cassia stood at her balcony, overlooking the city as torchlights flickered in the distance. She held the sealed letter once more, her grip tightening.

  The choice she had made earlier now carried weight—more than she was willing to admit.

  A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. When she turned, she found Nyx standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

  “You look troubled,” Nyx noted.

  Cassia exhaled, setting the letter aside. “I should be.”

  Nyx stepped closer, her sharp eyes scanning Cassia’s face. “Lucius is making his move, isn’t he?”

  Cassia nodded. “And so are his enemies.”

  Nyx was silent for a moment before speaking again, her voice low. “Then we should be ready. Because when the storm comes, there will be no room for hesitation.”

  Cassia met her gaze, understanding the truth in her words. The time for caution was nearing its end. Soon, Rome itself would burn with the choices they all made.