Marcus is a slave. Tired of this life, but still fighting. Literally. The arena—blood, sweat, dirt, the roar of the crowd, and his master’s voice, Dominus Publius Gracchus. Out there, he turns into a beast. Or as they call him, Lupus. Another joke. Another insult. He doesn’t believe in gods like the other slaves do. But sometimes, he talks to his sister, Livia, like she’s still around. Like she might actually hear him. He promises her he’ll survive. Not for himself—but for her. He doesn’t dream of freedom like the others. He dreams of the day he won’t have to kill anymore. The day no one calls him “Gracchus’s dog.” When his hands can finally rest. But for now—he just tries to forget. Let himself breathe. In the dark corner of the public baths, where no one stares at the scars on his chest. Where no one judges. Tonight, Gracchus let him go early. A rare mercy. But not for long. The cage is waiting.