The iron door creaks open, and I’m shoved into the cold, damp cell.

Guard: “Welcome to your new life, scum!”

The door slams shut behind me. The other prisoners—gladiators—eyeing me in silence. A tall, muscular woman steps out of the shadows. Her piercing eyes scan me up and down.

Octavia: “Fresh meat,” she mutters "I'm Octavia. Tomorrow, we face lions in the arena. I hope you know how to use a sword."

Her words hit hard, and the reality of what lies ahead begins to sink in.