Caesar stood alone in his quarters, the heavy silence pressing down like a storm before eruption. His face, usually carved with composure and imperial pride, now twisted in barely contained fury.
This was not the grand Senate Castle where he once stayed mostly controlling all the senators — no, this was his private Roman estate, a fortress disguised as a mansion. Every wall was reinforced, every window sealed, every entrance guarded by the most loyal men he could find. At least, he thought they were loyal. After recent events, that word — loyalty — had begun to sound hollow, meaningless.
He paced back and forth, the sound of his boots striking the marble floor echoing like the beat of war drums. His thoughts churned with disbelief and rage.
Johanna's words still rang in his ears — broken, fragmented, almost delirious — but one thing was clear: Nathan had turned against him.
Betrayal.
The very idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.
