They had covered a lot of ground that night, their speed only increased with their desperation and in the knowledge that their enemies would not be far behind. Gone was the careful chopping of a path; instead they battled thorns as they had done earlier, ripping at the tangled undergrowth, careless of injury.

The rain was both a blessing and a curse. Their footprints were easily read in the muddied ground behind them, but at the same time Cade wondered if the slavers would brave the rain, knowing that their quarry would be so easily tracked come daytime.

Cade almost missed the tomb entrance. Might have missed it entirely had he not stumbled upon the ledge of stone that announced its presence.

“Stop,” Cade managed, gripping Quintus’s shoulder.

The legionary was glad to do so, and seemingly as one, the men collapsed onto the muddied ground.

It seemed a miracle that they had not lost another man. All were accounted for, haggard faced and broken though they appeared.

“What is it, Cade?” Amber called, bringing up the rear. “Did we make it?”

“It’s here,” Cade called back.

It was not the grand facade that Cade had expected. No statues flanked the steps, nor were there monumental pillars framing cavernous stone doors.

Rather, it was a square frame of dirty, marbled stone, flat against the ground. Large enough to admit two men at a time and seemingly blocked by a pile of rubble, deadwood, and rotting leaves.

“Help me,” Cade asked to nobody in particular, leaning down and pulling at the detritus with thorn-torn hands.

“Here!” called Scott. “There’s a hole.”

Cade let the rocks fall from his hands and stumbled back, ripping his way through the overgrowth. Scott was pointing deeper into the trees, an area strangely barren of flora. Beyond that, Cade could see a ragged tear in the earth, dank and dark as a vixen’s lair.

And a lair it was. As Cade pushed closer, the others following, he could see the mud, trodden to a thick paste outside the cavern. Bones littered the outside, coupled with ragged scraps of fur.

The top of the cave was a straight line, the fallen-in edge of what must have once been a portion of the temple. Now, it had become the den of some unknown predator—a warm, dry shelter from the wind and rain.

The cavernous maw could fit an elephant riding on another’s back with ease. And the bones were troubling—ribs the size of whalebones stood like spars of a great ship in the dirt. Cade dared not think of what sort of creature could drag something that size here, especially through the underbrush.

It was no wonder the Roman expedition had passed by this place.

A string of expletives disturbed Cade’s thoughts. Scott had unleashed his fury upon the world, cursing bitterly beneath his breath.

“It’s a goddamn death trap,” he growled finally as the others crowded at the edge of the clearing. None dared to set foot out of the underbrush.