The name Gaius had given him echoed in Lucius’ mind as he left the senator’s estate. Senator Quintus Marcellus. An aging politician, respected yet frail, clinging to the remnants of a Rome that no longer existed. Removing him would send a message—a declaration that the balance of power was shifting.

  But assassinating a senator was no small act. It was treason to some, revolution to others.

  Lucius rode through the streets, the weight of the decision pressing upon him. He was no stranger to bloodshed—he had killed on the battlefield, had slit the throats of enemies in the dark—but this was different. This was Rome. And in Rome, the knife was often deadlier than the sword.

  As he approached his villa, a familiar figure stepped from the shadows. Cassia.

  She was dressed simply, her dark hair pulled back, yet there was always an edge to her presence—something dangerous, something unreadable.

  “You’ve been summoned,” she said, falling into step beside him.

  “You hear everything, don’t you?” Lucius replied.

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  She smirked. “Only what I need to.” Her gaze flickered to his face. “And I see the weight of a choice on your shoulders.”

  Lucius exhaled. “The Senate does not ask. It commands.”

  Cassia stopped, turning to him fully. “And will you be commanded?”

  Lucius met her eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

  For the first time, something like concern flickered across Cassia’s face. “Quintus Marcellus is not your enemy. Killing him will not end the game—it will only pull you deeper.”

  Lucius studied her. Cassia was many things—an ally, a spy, a woman whose true loyalties were impossible to decipher. And yet, he trusted her more than most.

  “You think I should refuse?” he asked.

  Cassia shook her head. “I think you should know what you're walking into.” She hesitated, then added, “Marcellus has powerful friends. If you do this, you will not be able to walk away.”

  Lucius smirked. “I was never planning to.”

  Cassia sighed. “Then let me help you.”

  Lucius raised an eyebrow. “And why would you do that?”

  Her expression was unreadable. “Because Rome is shifting, and I’d rather not be on the losing side.”

  Lucius chuckled. “Practical as always.”

  He stepped closer, tilting her chin up with his fingers. “Tell me, Cassia—if I fall, will you mourn me?”

  She smirked, though something softer lay beneath. “If you fall, Lucius, I will make sure Rome never forgets your name.”

  The air between them crackled with something unspoken. Then, just as quickly, Cassia stepped back.

  “Be careful,” she murmured.

  Lucius watched as she disappeared into the night.

  The next move was his.