Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator by Claudia Christian and Morgan Grant Buchanan Page B

wouldn’t be around to see it. Father was set on marrying me off at once. He wouldn’t budge now that I’d publicly quarreled with him, and life as a good Roman wife, ever obedient to her husband, was unimaginable. The future held nothing for me, and after the tournament, if the Caninine Alliance lost, what would become of my empire? What of House Viridian? Better to commit suicide, an honorable, private death, and join Mother and Aulus in the underworld as a shade before the whole empire went to hell.
    After a few blocks, I spotted two men on my tail. Father again, sending agents to manage me. I ran. My injuries cried out as I sped down one street after another. The arena medics had been able to stanch bleeding and accelerate healing, but only with the proviso that we rest and give our bodies the chance for their medicines to take. I welcomed the pain; it stole away my thoughts. Running hard, I weaved my way through the city’s ever present crowds, choosing the way without consideration. When I finally came to a stop, I found myself in the Subura, the city’s ancient slum. Several emperors had tried to clean it out but all in vain. It was where the collegial guilds and organized crime gangs had their headquarters, the base from which they managed their empirewide interests, and they liked it just as it was, seedy and crime ridden. My mother used to say that every city needed a shadow place, even the great and shining Rome. In the Subura, the darkness of the soul could find expression so that its impact on the sanity and order that must prevail in the light of day was minimized.
    The main strip was crowded, lined with bright holographic signs advertising exotic local clubs where every variety of drug and sexual fantasy, human or alien or both, was on offer. Distracted by the flashing signs, I ran right into a pack of Sertorian officers out front of the Baths of Venus. Six in total. They were off duty, there to partake of the gambling halls and brothels. “Watch where you’re going,” the lead soldier barked at me, but his expression softened when he saw that beneath the cloak I was a woman. “Forget I said anything, look at those cheekbones. You’ve got to be a Viridian, don’t you? And a pretty little thing you are.” Some of the others started up with wolf whistles. “Come with us, darling, we’ll show you a good time.”
    Iceni slaves followed behind their Sertorian masters, struggling to keep large chests of luggage from falling off overloaded hover carts. The Iceni were short, slight-bodied aliens with pale white skin and a large single red eye in the center of their foreheads. My appearance had caused their convoy to come to a sudden halt, resulting in the Iceni at the rear bumping into a trunk and sending it clattering to the marble-clad street. The officer at the rear began beating the Iceni immediately, cursing its clumsiness. House Sertorian, the master race at work. When the man realized I was watching him, he smiled and sank his boot into the alien one more time.
    â€œYou like this, pretty girl? Does this turn you on?”
    â€œWouldn’t you like to know what it’s like to have a Sertorian man?” another asked. “We are genetically enhanced, veritable stallions in the sack!” Then he put his hand on my shoulder. “My friends and I won’t take no for an answer.”
    Placing my left hand across my body and over his so he couldn’t pull it away, I twisted to the side and turned, locking his arm straight and then rolling my right elbow over his. The action twisted his wrist at a bad angle and caused him to hunch over with bent knees. I looked down at him, appreciating the fear in his eyes, before dropping my body weight into the lock, tearing all the tendons in his forearm. He screamed as he dropped to his knees, and I released the hold and sank a kick into his chest, sending him flying back into his comrades.
    â€œI