Chapter Seventy-Five; Betrayal

(Stephanie's POV)

Suddenly, an idea popped into Stephanie's mind.

Seneca wasn't responsible for what had happened to her. That had been someone else's doing.

Seneca wanted to help her. Stephanie didn't believe him for a moment but…

"Ficen," Stephanie said quietly.

The effect on Seneca was instant. His ice-blue eyes zeroed in on her as his expression immediately hardened.

Stephanie began to fret, to curse herself inwardly – She hadn't considered the factor that maybe Seneca loved Ficen in return. Her objective was she had to get rid of Ficen before Ficen carried through on her threats.

Her only thought had been how long would it be before Ficen would have her on her knees begging like Dess had with Slena.

Ficen had proved by her actions that she was certainly more than just empty words and hot air.

"Go on," Seneca said, his voice like ice.

Stephanie gulped. She needed to think – and fast.

"Dess and Fas," she said hurriedly, thinking to shift the blame off Ficen as quickly as possible.

Seneca's expression only darkened.

Stephanie felt tears of fear bead in her eyes. This had been a truly stupid idea.

Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker – He was hardly going to go against his own people!

…

(Seneca's POV)

Stephanie cowered down even further as Seneca waited for her next words with bated breath.

Ficen. Dess. Fas.

Already wheels were turning in Seneca's head as his thoughts only darkened.

"What happened?" he asked measuredly.

Stephanie looked terrified, in fact she had started shaking again as she looked up at him fearfully.

Seneca realising that she must be afraid of him, tried to soften his expression.

He brushed a few wisps of hair away from her face and nodded at her encouragingly.

Stephanie still looked fearful but confused and sceptical now also, but there was a hopeful light burning in her eyes.

…

(Stephanie's POV)

Stephanie looked at Seneca, cursing his confusing actions but at the same time she desperately wanted to trust someone.

Not necessarily Seneca Crane. He was one of the last people on her list.

It was just that he always seemed to find her straight after she had just endured another horrific experience of the Capitol, like at the photo-shoot and now again.

She looked at him, hoping desperately.

Then she relented.

She was a tribute in the Hunger Games. If he wanted to kill her, he'd do it in the arena. I didn't have much chance to survive anyway, Stephanie reasoned as she steeled her nerve.

And if for some reason he genuinely wanted to help her, then this was the perfect opportunity to snitch out Ficen.

If anyone could protect her against Ficen, Stephanie was sad to say, it was in fact Seneca Crane.

"Ficen hit me, knocked me unconscious," Stephanie began slowly, deliberately leaving Slena out of the retelling.

Stephanie paused, studying his face closely to see how he reacted to this nugget of information.

His jaw tightened slightly, but he remained silent.

Stephanie inhaled deeply, fear clawing its way up her throat nearly strangling her words.

It occurred to her that he might punish her family, friends…Haymitch. But then Ficen had threatened as much anyway.

Stephanie found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place.

And the thought almost made her laugh at its absurdity, but Seneca seemed more open to negotiations than Ficen.

"I woke up in a room…Dess and that reporter Fas were there as well," Stephanie said, a cold chill creeping up her spine at the memory.

"And then what happened?" Stephanie almost jumped a foot in the air when Seneca spoke and took her hand securely in his, squeezing it lightly,

Her heart pounded but she didn't try and pull her hand from Seneca's.

It was a good sign at least, no matter how perplexing his behaviour was, he wasn't trying to kill her.

Stephanie considered Seneca's question and all at once felt angry and frustrated at the tears that immediately began to spill down her cheeks again.

She remembered the shock and horror when Dess had forced himself on her, the terror she had felt when she had realised what she thought he had intended to do and that no one would or could help her.

Stephanie bit down on her bottom lip, hard; hard enough to draw blood.

Damn it! She was not going to cry – again!

"Dess…" Stephanie spat out the word vile on her tongue.

Stephanie pressed a shaky hand to her mouth as a wave of nausea assaulted her suddenly before it ebbed away again.

"Stephanie did he hurt you? Did he…" Seneca's words trailed off into silence, as he looked at her, the insinuation clear.

Stephanie shook her head, not yet trusting her voice.

"No," she managed after a moment. "They had only wanted photos of Dess and me…" Stephanie pressed her lips into a thin white line, closing her eyes briefly as she felt suddenly sickened, her stomach heaving with the effort of keeping it down.

"Photos?" Seneca repeated immediately.

Stephanie opened her eyes and looked at him.

Seneca's eyes flashed like blue lightening, a decidedly dangerous gleam to them and Stephanie didn't know why, but she didn't feel the anger in them was directed at her.

As if to prove her assumption, Seneca looked down at her and his eyes…softened, some strange emotion in their cerulean depths.

Stephanie stared; confused and frightened.

She nodded hesitantly.

There was a moment of silence where they both brooded in their separate thoughts.

Then Seneca stood abruptly and given he still held one of her hands in his, Stephanie found herself suddenly pulled to her feet.

Stephanie stiffened in fear, doubting once more that she had made the wrong choice in telling Seneca anything.

"You have to get back," he told her.

His expression was smooth, unreadable. Stephanie shivered, paling considerably as the full reality of her current situation came crashing down around her.

She was standing here with a Head Gamemaker holding his hand?! Maybe she really had lost her sanity this time?

Seneca opened the door a sliver and peered out, checking the hallway.

Once he had ascertained it was empty he pulled the light and stepped out, pulling Stephanie out with him.

He didn't release her hand though and pulled her along further down the unfamiliar hall.

Stephanie didn't know what to do, fear was overcoming each of her senses one by one and turning her into a quivering, terrified puddle.

Was she really going to follow Seneca Crane?!

The hallway ended abruptly then, dissected by a main corridor that opened up onto the foyer. Stephanie realised that they had really just did a loop around the foyer.

They paused just before the hallway ended, keeping close to the wall. Seneca pressed a finger to his lips as a warning for silence.

Stephanie nodded, her expression grim.

Stephanie could still hear the wailing and the crying, the loud din of a hundred people talking all at once.

Of course it was coming from the foyer where all the party attenders still huddled together; some fearful, most over-dramatic, many livid that these tributes – nothing better than animals had been allowed to interact with them – rich, beautiful Capitolites. Shouldn't they be kept in chains or something if they are clearly so unstable?

Seneca pointed to the hallway across from them.

"It leads to the room…you can't miss it," he whispered as he sought out her eyes to make sure she had understood.

Stephanie gave a small nod by way of reply, chancing a nervous glance around the corner at the crowds gathered in the foyer.

Stephanie gulped.

"If you dart across quickly no one will catch you," Seneca reassured her, squeezing her hand briefly.

Stephanie swallowed, feeling nerves bunch up in her.

Stephanie took a deep breath in preparation for making to sprint across from one hallway to the other before she lost the nerve to do so.

But just as she had set one foot ahead of the other she was sharply hauled back.

Not expecting the sudden resistance from the opposite direction, Stephanie flew backwards only to be caught and steadied by Seneca's arms about her waist.

Stephanie tore herself immediately from the hold, whirling round to glare at him fiercely as she momentarily forgot her fear in place of anger.

What the hell was he playing at?

Seneca in response did the last thing Stephanie ever expected. He laughed, a soft chuckle under his breath as he met her scathing glare.

Stephanie gawked at him. Was he seriously laughing at a time like now?

Stephanie would have quite readily slapped him.

But Stephanie forgot everything, her anger and fear melting away to be replaced with utter relief as she heard his voice.

Haymitch.

It was coming from down the main hallway and Stephanie immediately started towards it, completely forgetting about Seneca.

All she needed to see was Haymitch and everything would be fine.

Stephanie reached the main hallway, turned and gazed down the hall and saw.

Seneca dragged her back into the cover of the hallway they had previously been in a split second later, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Stephanie didn't even try to fight against the hold but rather collapsed against it.

Seneca held her up with an arm around her waist, the other hand muffling her sobbing.

"Ssshhh," Seneca half-soothed, half-warned, his lips against her hair but Stephanie had felt as though a hole had been punched through her chest where her heart had previously resided.

But along with it there was also a red-hot anger pulsing through her veins.

Seneca as though sensing that she was about to try and break away from him, released her before a flash second later he had turned her around to face him and pulled her against him.

Pressed flush against him, her arms trapped in the space between their bodies, Stephanie found it harder to push away from his firm hold, her legs restricted by the silk cocoon of her dress.

Seneca held her tightly though, Stephanie's face hidden against his neck as she inhaled the light scent of his aftershave.

And Stephanie found herself doing the last thing she would have expected; crying on Seneca's shoulder as he held her.

The image before burned with a cruel vividness in Stephanie's mind.

The image of Haymitch and another woman in his arms.