"Okay," I grunted, folding my body up into yet another sit-up, forcing myself to ignore the familiar burning pain in my abdomen. "500 more to go. 2,010," I continued counting off as my back once again collided with the floor of my jail cell. With another grunt, I lurched myself into another sit-up. "2,011." I let out a small cry of protest as my back made contact with the floor this time.
I gasped desperately for breath as I threw myself into yet another sit-up. "Ah, the hell with it; Dimitri's not here to call me on this shit," I practically growled. My back hit the floor. "What he don't know won't hurt him. 2,499." The smugness was evident in my voice, even through the pain, and I felt the slightest sense of triumph at having been able to best him for once since he wasn't here to scold me for not doing it his way.
"2,500—" Gathering every ounce of strength I could muster, I was able to force myself to sit myself up all the way—just barely—before my back slammed hard against the floor.
This time, I didn't get back up. I was lying there for a long moment afterward, recovering from the ordeal I had just put myself through. Sweat coated my skin and my chest rose and fell rapidly with each forced, painful breath I took.
God, my whole body just ached so badly. I never put myself through so much agony of my own free will before. Usually, I only did it because I had a stern, hard-core Dimitri there to bitch me out for slacking off—should I ever. That was enough motivation to make God, Himself want to step up His game a couple notches.
"Hathaway," a familiar voice barked, startling me, my guardian instincts making me jerk upright.
The sudden movement sent a fiery pain surging through my body, my muscles screaming at me in protest for what I had just put them through. Son of a bitch—that hurt so fucking much. My hand went over to clutch the side of my neck, and I began lightly massaging out the kinks in it.
I didn't want to let on to how much pain I was actually in. I had a reputation as one of the toughest, most bad-ass guardians out there and no way was I going to ruin that reputation now by showing even the slightest hint of weakness. I had been through way worse pain than this before, no doubt. I had to maintain my strong suit so I carefully composed my face into the guardian mask I had spent the past couple months honing up. It took me forever, but I had finally mastered that particular skill and I was pretty damn proud of myself for it.
With an internal groan, I allowed my gaze to drift up only to be met with the disapproving glare of the main guardian that had arrested me. He was accompanied by about 10-12 other guardians, which was to be expected. A little extravagant, considering I was behind bars and couldn't lash out at them even if I—well, I did want to…but that was beside the point at the moment.
A couple of them I recognized as some of the guardians Dimitri had tossed around when he tried to stop them from taking me. A couple I knew by name. But, for the most part, I kept my eyes locked on the main one that had arrested me, considering the glare he continued to give me.
Working to keep my smirk hidden, I managed to play it off quite well as the nonchalant, flippant teenager who didn't give a crap what they did to me. Years and years of practice really helped to keep it convincing, even to me.
"And, hello to you too, my fellow guardians," I acknowledged, with a feigned politeness. Unfortunately, I never did happen to catch the guy's name so my smart-ass comments didn't have quite the efficiency they usually did. "What an unpleasant surprise," I continued, with the most pleasant smile I could muster. "To what do I owe the great annoyance?"
He was clearly not amused, judging by the look on his face. He just stared at me, unblinking. "You're free to go," he said, deadpan. "You're being released," he further clarified.
I shot up excitedly with those words, rising to my feet with a speed that surprised even myself. "What, are you serious? Just like that, I'm being released? No more: 'Crappy salad or crappy dry pasta'; no more: 'crappy cot or in ball on the floor'? A decent meal? My own bed? Oh, dear God…" My gaze drifted upward admirably, as if I was praying. "…you really do love me after all."
"Enough!" he retorted, with a sigh and an eye roll, as he detached his keys from his hip and began unlocking the gate. "Apparently, Mr. Mazur," he practically snarled the name in disgust. "…pulled you quite a few favors and turns out, we don't have enough to hold you in custody. Not yet, anyway," he added, narrowing his eyes at me in suspicion and definite distrust.
Not that I gave a damn what he thought of me; I had seen that look way too many times in my life to actually care about it.
I gave a careless shrug. "Well, thank God it's not yet yet, huh?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, but managing to sound somewhat sincere to someone who might not have known me.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he swung the door to the side, but held out a hand to stop me from going any further. I considered shoving it out of my way and charging on past him, but decided against it. Better to just give the man his two cents and let him do what he has to do to feel important, I guess. Plus, if he had something to say to me—with all these guardians here—chances are I wouldn't make it two steps before I would be restrained and forced to hear him out.
"Don't push it," he warned, the message in his eyes only too clear. "One mistake, Hathaway, that is all it takes. One more slip-up from you…and I get to toss your ass back in here. Are we clear?"
"Don't do me any favors," I returned.
"I wouldn't dream of doing you a favor after what you did," he said, sounding utterly repulsed by me. "We might not have enough to put you away just yet, but everyone knows you did it. I don't need those 11 votes to know in every fiber of my being that you did it. And, even if Mazur can save you from prison, I guarantee you, he cannot save you from everything." He leaned in closer to whisper his next words. "There are other methods that prove just as efficient as jail for treasonous traitors such as yourself. And, I will do everything in my power to ensure those very methods are called upon if it comes down to it. Do you understand?"
I managed a small chuckle, making him step back to look at me again, looking appalled at my approach to his threats. "I believe you are the one who misunderstands," I corrected. "You see, you can do whatever you want to me. Lock me up, kill me, anything. But, the truth is going to come out sooner or later. And, when it does, everyone will know I'm innocent…" I now leaned in to whisper my next words to him. "…and you'll be the one who has to live with the guilt."
He jerked away from me abruptly, as if I had just told him I had a contagious disease that he would catch from being in the mere vicinity of me. "I feel no guilt whatsoever over the elimination of murderers in my society, Miss Hathaway."
"And innocents?" I challenged. "What about them? Any guilt over the elimination of them?"
"You are the farthest thing from innocent, Hathaway," he spat.
"Morally speaking—" I gave another shrug, along with a slight smirk. "—you're absolutely right. Morality and I are mortal enemies, in a constant fight-to-the-death battle; it's quite aggravating. Legally speaking, however—" Well, I wasn't exactly innocent in that particular aspect either, but I wasn't about to cop to that. "—I am in no way guilty. Of what; calling the queen a sanctimonious bitch? Well, I'm sorry, but she had her moments. Call 'em as I see 'em and I'm calling it. That does not mean I killed her and you have no right making that kind of assumption. I'm already an ass, but why would you really wanna make yourself one?"
He made to advance towards me, but stopped himself when he realized I wasn't posing an actual threat at the moment. I was just pissing him off—that didn't exactly justify trying to take me down.
"No assumptions were made whatsoever," he pointed out. "Everything in that court room was backed up with hard proof, with hard facts. You have nothing. You have your word—something that has always been quite unreliable—and you have the word of those closest to you. And, love has a frequent tendency of blinding people."
I snorted. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not too fond of you either, buddy."
"You really have no idea, do you?" He shook his head as he continued glaring at me. "No one can help you. No one will. Anyone who believes you can't do a thing for you. Princess Vasilisa, her lapdog—the Ozera boy—Adrian Ivashkov. That boy's been unstable as long as I've known him; he is easily influenced by anything that revolves around you. And, Belikov…"
He grimaced slightly at the mention of Dimitri. Not everyone had taken to Dimitri since his return—some feared it was a trick or that it was only a matter of time before he changed back or lashed out and tried to massacre us all—and this guardian happened to fall under that particular category.
"Ever since he came back," he began, "he hasn't been right. Hardly noticeable, sure, but it is there. No one is ever going to believe the ex-Strigoi-turned-dhampir. Nothing he says will be taken seriously; you have to know that. Matter of fact, he probably would've just been better off dead. Either that or he should've just remained a Strigoi because now, he's completely ruined. Now, he's nothing. He can never be—he's not good, he's not evil, he just…is. That, Hathaway, that is why we kill Strigoi. We don't play the hero of the piece and try to save them, because there is no saving them. Not really."
"Well, you're right about one thing," I agreed, using every ounce of strength I had to not start swinging right here and now for his comment about Dimitri. Hardly anyone knew about our past relationship here and I wanted to keep it that way. It was none of their business and I had no intentions of making it their business. "We don't play the hero of the piece," I repeated his words and glared at him with my next ones. "Because you could never be the hero of any piece."
"Mm, that so?" he asked, with a scoff, shaking his head.
"So it is," I said, with a firm nod. "Now, if I am not mistaken, you said I was free to go, which would imply that I am actually free to go. So, this is me going."
I shoved my way past him and made to walk out when I realized that the guardians accompanying him were surrounding me now, blocking the exit and keeping me completely trapped between them and the cell I had been locked in.
Trying to play it off as a joke, I gave a small smile. "Aw, thanks for the offer guys, really, but I feel fairly confident that I can make it back to my room without an escort. I know it's been a while, but I do still remember where it is. Unless of course they went and moved it on me—"
Before I knew what was happening, someone was grabbing me from behind, immediately restraining my arms so that I couldn't struggle. I stifled a gasp right as a needle syringe was plunged into the side of my neck. My already useless attempts to fight back proved to be unsuccessful as my legs gave way beneath me and I collapsed into the guardian's arms.
My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my body fell completely limp. A pair of arms moved down to get a better hold on me before I could actually fall to the floor. Suddenly, my body was being effortlessly hoisted up, the worst of my weight being supported by those strong forearms.
I managed to let out another small cry—even in my semi-unconscious state—that faded off into a weak moan. While my mind was screaming at me to wake up and start fighting, my body's needs took me over. It was only a matter of seconds, if that, before I fell completely under.
And that was it.
With that, I lost myself further in those luring depths of unconsciousness, allowing each wave crashing down upon me to drag me down deeper and deeper…until there was nothing left…