"Tell us, Cinna. We'll let you go if you do," the woman across the tables says to a bleeding Cinna. His vision is blurred, but he can make out her form leaning onto the table. He can hear the sharp edge of her voice; he can taste the blood in his mouth; he can smell that putrid perfume that Snow's rose emits; he can feel the cold metal of handcuffs strapping him to his chair.
Everything hurts. So much. But still, the man shakes his head and grumbles out a refusal. The woman nods, and a guard punches Cinna again, this time on his cheek. The taste of blood in his mouth becomes stronger.
"Tell us."
"No," he mumbles, hardly able to move his jaw. His vision isn't clearing when the next blow to the head comes. Cinna's vision tunnels, and he wants the pain to stop. He wants to be free, he wants to be safe.
But he shoves those thoughts out of his pounding head. The Girl on Fire needs to be safe. Katniss needs to make it to safety at any cost.
"I believe in her," Cinna says as clearly as possible with his injured jaw. Sorry, Katniss. The woman sitting opposite to him nods, and somewhere in the distance, there is a click. A weight is pushed against Cinna's head, but he doesn't move.
A mockingjay, flying free above forests.
A girl on fire.
A click.
A bang.
Nothing.