Leo's eyes widened for a moment before an exasperated huff escaped his lips. Striding to the door, he stiffly peered into the hallway before closing it and turning the deadbolt. With a nearly imperceptible sigh, he slid the brass chain above into place as well.

Pushing an errant strand of hair from his forehead, he seemed to resign himself to her peer pressure. “This doesn't mean I agree.”

“Objection noted." Hazel held back a smile.

Despite his tone, curiosity was clearly getting the better of him. He murmured something under his breath as he returned to her side, a line burrowed deep between his eyebrows.

She bottled a triumphant look as he settled in beside her on the bed. His grey irises searched hers, almost pleading for reconsideration. “And about the Senator?”

She frowned down at the contraption. It suddenly felt overly dense in her hold. The warning bells in her subconscious agreed, tolling like the shrill horn of a night train. Burying the sensations, she shook her head. He’s the one who got me on this track to begin with. “He had his chance. More than one, actually.”

Leo let out a soft yet frustrated breath, “So much for your eyes only.”

Hazel eyed her worried-looking guard, finger still poised over a button. “Still time to back out.”

He sighed again, but his body remained rigid as if he was bracing himself for the unknown. Yet he remained perched on the mattress without any indication he was going to leave.

“That’s what I thought.” Hazel couldn’t restrain the twitch at the corner of her lips, “Since he refuses to show me, then I am going to find out myself.”

Leo ran a hand over his neck, a line of faint perspiration condensed like translucent crystals in his hairline. A few even collected on the ridges of the puckered scar tissue along the side of his head. “So, is this bravery or recklessness?”

“Probably a bit of both.” Popping open the player, she dropped the cassette inside. “Relax, what is the worst that could happen?”

Leo glanced at the row of backward-turned frames. “Weren’t we just discussing corpses being dragged through the streets?”

Snapping the machine closed, a little puff of dust floated into the air.

“How old is that thing?” Leo questioned, swatting at the brown cloud.

“No idea, but Alder promised me it works.” Hazel scanned the device; several silver buttons decorated its edge like a row of scales, but the symbols and words had been worn to the point of unreadability. Hazel pressed the first one, and the door re-opened. The tape dislodged with an annoying click. “Ok, so not that one.”

Leo slid closer until the outsides of their knees pressed together. His voice was even, though she caught a faint note of relief in it. “Even that thing knows this is a bad idea.”

She pressed her elbow into his arm with a light jab. “Better not think that is going to stop me, Drayton.”

“Not for a second.” His stare wavered to the locked door and then back.

Hazel jammed the cassette inside and pressed the next button; this time, the machine whirred to life. Inside, the cassette began to rotate properly. Meanwhile, the screen flickered to life with gray and white lines but no concrete images.

“Is it working?” Leo asked.

Hazel shook the contraption, but the state of the screen remained unchanged. She pressed the next button, and suddenly the monitor went completely dark. The tape’s spinning also abruptly stopped.

Trying the rest of the buttons did little to improve the situation. At one point, the tape began to rotate in the opposite direction.

Leo leaned back a fraction, his shoulders relaxing, “I think you’ve been duped.”

“He wouldn’t.” No matter how much had changed, Alder had always been a family friend with a wholesome sincerity. Him misleading her was wholly unimaginable.

Pushing the second button once again, the cassette began to spin once more, but the gray, grainy snow continued to convulse.

With another encouraging jiggle, she whispered, “Come on.” With a harsh hiss the speakers crackled to life.

Hazel froze, afraid that even the slightest movement might undo this fragile bit of progress. Beside her, Leo stiffened, the tension in his frame rushing back into place.

Hazel struggled to believe it was really happening. The answer to a mystery that had consumed her for months was finally within her grasp. Both held their breath as the sounds began to take shape.

“Ugh…”

A string of grunts and groans followed heavy mouth breathing.

Dry sounds of splintering bark.

A creaking of branches. Like wood itself was moaning, being stretched to its breaking point.

A jangling scrape.

The unmistakable sound of metal sliding against metal.

Another deep, pained groan.

Next came an unsettling squelch, almost like pulling a boot free from thick, sticky mud. Except the boot had the telltale twang of metal.

More labored exhales and a few ragged coughs.

Whoever it was had a voice that was undoubtedly baritone.

A male.

“What?” She breathed out, running a finger inadvertently over the screen as if she could force it to show her what she desperately wanted to see.

Leo peered down at her just as confused, though his countenance tightened. He gripped the edge of the mattress, muscles as taut as a bow string.

A piercing moan came next, like the distressed call of an injured bird.

Both of them flinched. The loudness of the voice vibrated the contraption within her palms.

This was a different voice than the first. It was a ragged shriek, sharp and clearly agonized.

A series of whimpers followed, soft, gentle, and obviously young.

Definitely female.

A girl.

The deeper, more baritone panting slowed. Was he holding his breath?

Another feminine sob pierced the quiet.

He was listening.

A singular word came from the male’s lips, “Ruby?”

Hazel's hands began to shake as her blood ran cold.

It can’t be.

Leo’s gaze found hers, and pity filled his eyes.

Her heart rate spiked as a throbbing sensation sliced along her nerves. It was a voice she would recognize with her eyes closed, in her dreams, in her nightmares, in her soul.

Silus.

The icy sensation seemed to suspend her very life force along with her limbs. Her world began to spin around her, and she stared into the fuzz-filled screen without blinking.

“It’s….it’s my … Games?”

Leo’s strong hand covered hers, and she jerked. “Marlowe. Let's stop.”

Hazel pulled her hand from under his, shaking her head but unable to form intelligible words.

Why? Why would he give this to me?

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

What sounded like running came next.

Heavy boots thundering through the brush.

Silus was …running?

His labored breathing was intercut with Ruby’s cries.

While he ran, it seemed she had crumpled.

A fresh round of Ruby’s agonized whimpers bubbled out like a kettle boiling over. The girl began to ask for her father, her mother, and her little sister, begging to see them again through ragged hiccups.

The running continued, along with a few grunts and the thud of Silus’s boots. “Ruby! Where are you?”

“Silus?” the girl choked out between sobs.

“The hell is this?” Sweat formed along Hazel’s spine and palms. Her nose practically swam with the scent of Silus’s blood mixed with rain and mud. Her fingers could almost feel the frigid temperature of Ruby’s skin beneath her own. Reality and memory collided, leaving her adrift in a storm of sensations she couldn’t control.

It was too much. Their voices were drowning her. Their real voices, not some phantoms of her slumber. No ghosts. No dreams. It was really them. It was far too much and not enough at the same time.

What was going on? I want to see what is happening. I want to see their faces.

She slammed her fist over the screen. “Show them to me,” she cried.

The contraption ceased its rotation. Silus and Ruby faded away, morphing into a muffled scratching electrostatic, like crumpling tin foil over a microphone.

“Marlowe.” Leo’s voice was far away as if he were calling to her from the end of a dark tunnel.

The tremors spread from her hands to her arms as something deep within her screamed at her to run. Run like Silus was running. The machine slipped from her hands, dropping to the floor with a metallic thud.

What is this? Another game? Some kind of test?

She pressed the heels of her palms to her temples, and her erratic pulse pushed up against her skin. Terror ensnared her trachea, coiling around it like a slithering creature. Her inhalations turned uneven and shallow. It was too much—Silus’s voice, Ruby’s cries, the memories burned like wildfire through her.

Leo reached forward, grasping the fallen device from the floor and tossing it onto the bed behind them. The fuzzy static instantly went quiet.

Leo shifted nearer, “Breathe, Marlowe. What color is the sky?”

She couldn’t care less about the sky or whatever the hell color it was. It could be covered in polka dots for all she cared.

“What is this?” her voice was desperate, though her eyes remained squeezed shut, “Why would he?”

What does he gain from giving me this?

Of all the things she had imagined would have been on that tape, a recording of her Games wasn’t even in the same universe.

“I don’t know.” Leo’s soft reply came, his breath washing over her face. “I am sure he has a reason for it.”

Her heartbeat was hammering like an axe blade along her jugular. Her body screamed that she was in danger, though her mind was grasping at the fine threads of reality.

“Look at me, Marlowe.” Leo’s breath coated her face, brushing over her eyelashes. His hand hovered near both of hers for another moment, hesitating before finally settling gently over hers. With a slow movement, he peeled her hands away from her temples, setting them in her lap.

She flinched but didn’t pull away. His sturdy touch was grounding, like the faintest promise of shelter in a raging storm.

Her eyes remained shut as the heaviness of the mattress beside her lightened.

Just as she thought she detected warmth leaving her hands and then lingering just a hair’s breadth from her face, his voice came from in front her, “Open your eyes.”

After another moment of their collective breathing in the otherwise silent room, his palm met her cheek.

She gave in and eased open her tense lids. He was leaning over her, one hand pressed against the mattress, the other gently turning her face toward him.

“Look at me.” He whispered again as his callouses slid along her delicate skin.

His gaze swept across her face, “Breathe with me.”

As he took in a long breath, Hazel’s attention fell from the gray depths of his irises to his chest. She sucked in several lungfuls in line with Leo’s slow, purposeful inhales and exhales. The frostbitten grip on her ribs began to melt, though the edges of her panic still loitered like a distant siren.

“You are ok.” Leo continued, his warm breath washed over her. His voice deepened as he slid closer. The aroma of Capitol-issued soap with the faintest hint of rosemary filtered into the air between them. It was clean, fresh, and held, not even a hint of syrup or roses.

Tremors faded in a prickling sensation that was less than comfortable but at least gave her some control over her muscles again. Eventually, her pulse began to recede to a normal pace.

“You are safe.”

“Safe,” she whispered, the word foreign on her tongue. Her gaze dropped to the fading shivering in her hands. “Are any of us?”

“As long as I am here, I promise you are.” Leo drew himself closer.

Hazel turned her attention from his chest back to his searching gaze. “What did I tell you about promises?”

“What did I tell you?” His thumb brushed a soft caress from the side of her nose along her cheekbone in slow strokes.

To her surprise, it was soothing, though a different kind of warning bell rang in a distant part of her mind. “Leo, you saw…my Games?”

The grey in his eyes seemed to melt as he watched her. “I did. They played it in the infirmary.”

She cast a glance at his scars, “Tell me…what was that?”

“I don’t know.” His finger continued its steady rhythm over her skin, gliding along the delicate curve of her cheek.

“Please,” her voice was on the edge of crumbling, “The truth.”

“Hazel…” His thumb paused. “I’m telling you it, I swear…I didn’t recognize that part of the Games.”

What did that mean?

She swallowed, “Like it was untelevised?”

A loud knock at the door made them both jump.

Had it already been an hour?

Her body and attention were doused in a frigid sobriety in a millisecond. Leo shot back away from her while she wiped at her eyelids. Though it was doubtful, she could mask the remnants of her panic.

He pointed a long, hasty finger toward the discarded player while holding another one over his lips. She understood his meaning immediately and scrambled to tuck the projector under a pillow.

He gave her a look of approval as he silently strode to the door. Just as he reached the frame, Leo glanced back; a soft expression washed over his features for a moment longer. Hazel nodded, and without another word, he undid the locks and opened the door.

Sable was waiting on the other side. His arms crossed over his chest, scrutinizing their clearly flustered features.

Hazel grasped her hands together to keep them from shaking, putting pressure against her injured palm. Sparkling pain shot down her arm, but she welcomed it. Like dipping her toes into a too-hot pool, the pain distracted her from the ache in her chest.

Sable’s mouth twisted in a way that spoke of disappointment, “Drayton, I’m on duty tonight.”

Leo murmured, straightening his cuffs. “Yes, sir.”

Awkward stillness seeped painfully into the small room.

After a few more painful seconds, Sable moved inside and held the door wide for his fellow guard, “See you at 0800, Private.”

“Yes, sir,” Leo murmured in gruff agreement. With a slight bow and a wavering glance back at Hazel, he left.

Hazel couldn’t help but feel a warring sense of both loss and relief at his departure. She pressed harder into her palm. Get it together.

Sable watched him go with a stone-like expression before he turned his attention to her. He seemed to see right through her attempt at shielding her panic hangover. “You should get some rest as well, Ma’am.”

Hazel sighed. “I’ve told you, Pytash. You don’t have to call me that.”

“I may be old, doesn’t mean I’m hearing impaired.” Hazel met his eyes, and Sable was as serious as she had seen him.

Hazel's pulse picked up a few beats at his tone.

Sable walked to a rickety lounge chair, dragging it toward the door. The scrape of wood against the floor grated on her shattered nerves as if he wanted her to feel every second of it. When he finally sat down, he turned back to her, “He’s a fine peacekeeper, you know.”

She pursed her lips, waiting for him to continue.

“Taught him practically everything he knows.” He murmured as he stretched his arms. The fine scars along his neck puckered at the motion.

“I know that is why you took this assignment.” Hazel replied, “But you won’t be able to babysit forever.”

“Well, you’re doing a damn fine job proving the need for me to.”

Hazel’s eyes narrowed at the man. He wasn’t bringing this up to discuss Leo’s performance as a peacekeeper. “I may be young, but I am not dumb or blind, Pytash.”

“Then open your eyes and stop acting like it.” Sable met her gaze without flinching.

“Excuse me?” Hazel slid to the edge of the bed, knotting the quilt in her grasp.

“Now, who’s hearing impaired?” Sable rested his hands on his thighs. His posture was casual, but his tone was anything but.

Hazel scowled, anger and unease wrestling for control. “If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”

“Certain lines shouldn’t be crossed,” he replied bluntly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hazel countered.

“No?” Sable’s head tilted to the side, “Then tell me what was just happening here.”

Hazel willed the goosebumps along her forearms to smooth, wiping a finger along her cheek, retracing Leo’s touch. “Nothing.”

“I’m not vision impaired either.” Sable’s gaze washed over her pebbled skin and the faint perspiration along her hairline. “Like I said, lines-“

“Shouldn’t be crossed. I got it.” Hazel huffed, pooling her hands in the blankets, desperately attempting to curb her fidgeting.

“They haven’t,” Hazel sputtered, “No need to worry.”

Sable’s unconvinced expression remained. “I should’ve started worrying so much sooner.”

Hazel let out an exasperated exhale, “Sable, it’s nothing.”

“A missing ear is not nothing.”

A new spark of guilt grated against her sensitive nerves. “Believe me, if I could go back…” Hazel started, but Sable cut her off.

“What’s done is done.” Sable ran a hand through his hair.

“Something we can agree on.” Hazel snapped, her voice cracking despite her best efforts. “Did you teach Percy everything he knows, too?”

Sable settled his boots flat on the floor, leaning even further forward. “Anyone can lose their way. Even more reason to make sure it doesn’t happen to Leo.”

“Leo is nothing like Percy.” Hazel defended.

“I knew a time that is all he ever wanted to be.” Sable’s jaw twitched as a faraway look flashed across his face. He pursed his lips, seeming to shake something off. “But, he’s lucky it was Percy.” Sable exhaled quietly, though his lip twitched. “And, fortunately, you had the favor of the Senator. If it had been any other tribute...” He tapped his boot as he ran a thumb over his chin, “He would be missing more than an ear.”

Hazel scoffed, crossing her own arms to match his. However, the sincerity in his tone itched at the back of her mind.

“Even after all of that, he clearly hasn’t grasped the importance of boundaries.” Sable met her stare straight on as he continued. “Everyone has a role to play in this world. You’d both do well to remember that. Or next time, it might not just be an ear. And it might not just be his.”

“Sounds awfully threatening for someone who is supposed to protect.”

Sable leaned forward, his thick fingers tapping against his knees, “If you’re smart, you’ll see that is exactly what I’m doing. Trying to protect you both. Since neither of you seem to be doing that for yourselves.”

Between the recording and Sable, she wasn’t sure which had her more on edge. But the worst part—the part that made her stomach twist and her chest ache—was the sting of truth in his words.

Hazel pushed herself to stand. Her muscles were tense yet weary. “You are right-“

“Finally, coming to your senses.”

Hazel threw her hair over her shoulder, “I meant about getting rest.”

This day can’t end soon enough.

“Wise choice,” Sable replied, his fingers stilling their drumming as he settled even further into the chair wedged in the doorframe.

“You could just lock it, you know,” Hazel muttered

Sable scowled up at the locks, “Can’t be too careful. Specially with the likes of you.”

Hazel sighed with a heady combination of exhaustion and frustration. Turning away from the infuriating peacekeeper, she trudged in the direction of the bathroom. “Goodnight, old man.”

“Oh, Ma’am?” Sable called.

I’m taking that Panem-forsaken sleeping pill the second he looks away. “What now?”

Sable’s eyes hardened, and a shadow of the war veteran reflected at her from their depths. “If you care about him at all, you’ll make damn sure those lines are carved in stone.”