Won't Die a Slave

Thousands of people leaned out of the stands to peer at the men scattered across the sand, dazed and staring helplessly at their weapons.

A voice boomed across the arena. Dael scrambled to his feet, gladius in hand, searching for the man who told the crowd only one would survive. The crowd roared its approval. Dael's heart pounded. He gripped the gladius tight, comforted by its familiar weight. For one moment, he remembered Flavia's hand on him, guiding him. And then the nearest man lunged.

Avery's words came back to him.

Do whatever you have to.

I won't die a slave.