Treacherous

Right Questions

I shifted uncomfortably in front of the boy. A year ago, I never would have imagined that I would have been interrogating a gang member. Gangs existed then, but they weren't something that I had ever seen before the fall.

The boy looked more relaxed now that it was just the two of us. He leaned his head against the pole, his eyes closed, as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He was bigger than I had originally thought. Tall, muscular, with a sort of baseball player build to him.

I slowly sat down across from him, his eyes snapping open as I did so. My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me with a dark, dangerous glint to his eyes.

I cleared my throat and folded my legs under me, placing my knife on the floor beside me. His eyes flickered to the weapon before back to me, his jaw set hard.

"Will you at least tell me your name so I can at least call you something other than dangerous gang member?" I asked softly. Something flickered across his face. Humor, maybe? I felt myself relax a little. So he was a little bit human, after all, and not all bad like everyone made them out to be.

He adjusted his position so that his back was flat against the pole, wincing as he moved his shoulders. "Blaise," he said in a hoarse voice. I nodded.

"Great," I muttered. "Can I get you something? A drink or something to eat, though I don't know what since we don't have much."

He shook his head. "No."

I looked at his wrists. The cuffs were digging in and left painful red marks each time he shifted them. The pain wasn't evident on his face, though. He had probably faced pain that was worse than tight handcuffs.

"So, the Silver Roses, huh?" I asked. He stared at me. I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away. "What made you join them?"

"Why don't you just ask me the questions that you're supposed to ask me and then let me go?" Blaise asked in a soft, but threatening voice. I looked back up at him.

"Fine," I said, straightening up. I narrowed my eyes slightly at him. "What are you doing here? What do you want from us?"

He smirked and shook his head. "No, no. Those aren't the right questions, either." I tried to keep my face blank. What did he mean that those weren't the right questions? What other questions were I supposed to ask him? "Your family found me a block away from here while I was getting supplies for—"

"How?" I interrupted.

He frowned. "Pardon?"

"How were you getting supplies?"

He scoffed and brought one knee up, staring at the small hole just above his knee. "The same way that everyone else gets supplies, okay? I was just doing what was necessary." I nodded, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to know what he had done to the people that he'd encountered. "Your family jumped me and here I am."

I stood up, stepped over his outstretched leg, and leaned against the washer. As I crossed my arms over my chest, I looked at him from his blind spot.

"People are going to come for me," he said in a soft voice, "and the price is going to increase." I arched an eyebrow.

"Price for what, exactly?"

"For taking me hostage," he replied. The tone of his voice indicated that I should have known better. "You honestly didn't think that you could just take me as a hostage and there not be consequences, did you?"

I shook my head. "You know, you have some nerve to be speaking to me like that. You're the one who's stuck down here. You're in no position to be pissing off the people who have the key to your freedom."