Horatia shook her head, increased her pressure on his chest, opened her mouth, but the only sound that came from it was her own cry of pain, but also surprise, as Elena rounded him, caught her by the hair, and used it to yank her to the side, where, arms flailing, she went flying.

“He said, you’ll get out of his way,” she snapped to his father’s wife.

Cassius did not wait for what came next between the two women.

He went to his father’s door, but when he turned the handle to let himself in, his shoulder slammed into it instead of it opening, for it was locked.

“Open this!” he shouted at the panel.

“Be gone!” his father shouted back.

“Open!” he barked.

He heard a noise within the room he could not decipher, except it was coming from a female and it did not bode well, and then he put his shoulder to the door with intent.

Elena did the same at his back.

Both of them pounded on it with all their might, and it shook in its jamb, but did not yield.

“What on earth is happening?” he heard Antonius ask.

“This is profane!” Horatia screeched.

“Back,” Cassius growled.

Elena stepped back, as did Cassius.

Then he lifted his boot, and with all the strength he had in his leg, kicked at the door.

Wood shrieked, and the door flew open.

At what he saw, at Elena’s horrified gasp, his blood ran cold, but his lips moved.

“Get her gone,” he ordered.

“By the gods,” he heard breathed and knew Ian had joined him.

“Get her gone!” Cassius yelled.

“Cass,” Elena called.

“Fucking hell.”

And they had Nero.

He turned in time to see his men dragging Elena, stunned inert, away, Horatia glaring at him, and Cornelia cowering off to the side, her back to the opposite wall.

He took hold of the door and threw it to, keeping his hand up to hold it shut for there was no longer a latch.

Then he turned to the bed where his father was, on his knees, a bloodied Domitia on all fours in front of him, receiving his cock.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” his father sneered at him.

He was doing this…this…in retribution for all Cass had done.

This.

He had done this.

Horatia was correct.

This was profane.

Cassius walked into the room.

Toward the bed.

“What—?” his father started.

Domitia had her head turned away from him in shame.

“I might not wish my son as audience,” Gallienus noted.

Cassius snatched up a woolen throw from the end of the bed, then gently placed his hands under Domitia’s arms and pulled her away.

“What the bloody—?” his father shouted.

He carefully put her to her feet on the floor, wrapped the throw around her and murmured, “Go. Now. Elena will take care of you.”

He saw it out of the sides of his eyes and caught the fist coming his way in his palm, his fingers wrapping around it tightening in a crushing grip.