"When you're born in a burning house, you think the entire world is on fire.
But it's not."
—Richard Kadrey.
ASTRID HAD ONLY BEEN SCARED three times in her entire life. The first time when her— Aria's— parents died, the second time when she was right about to take someone else's life, and the third a moment before Aria had fallen to the floor. Gasping and shaking and sobbing.
Astrid huffed and tried to stop her fingers from shaking under the table. This was another one of those rare times when she was truly afraid.
The lack of food was seriously getting to her. The deal with Marina might have given Astrid's mind to focus onto something but it was snatching her sanity. She was overworked.
"Introduce yourself." The woman sitting across the table instructed Astrid, "Can we record the conversation? It might come in handy to us."
She had so many names. Fake names, but still. Which one should she use?
She can't use the Sinclair or the Knight surnames. Astrid Sinclair was presumed dead seven years ago and Astrid Knight never existed until two years ago.
"Astrid Romano." She introduced herself and the woman blinked in surprise. "You can record the conversation."
Astrid crossed her legs under the table, and clamped her hands together to stop them from shaking. This was happening too fast, too quick for her brain to come up with a plan. They had wasted no time in forcing her here or to start the procedure.
Too fast, too quick.
A buried, devious part of her was impressed the non-outlaws could do everything so efficiently. Maybe it was time she should stop underestimating the law.
"Alright, Ms. Romano." The woman drawled her name before smiling at her, no kindness offered but suspicion, "Why were you running away from the party?"
"I saw someone I shouldn't have." Truth. The best lies were always the ones hidden right near the truth.
"And who was that?"
"Someone I didn't want to be seen by."
"Can you give us a name?"
"I'm afraid that's personal, officer. I hope you can respect that." Do. Not. Lie. She was under no obligation to say something she didn't want to. The law or anyone else wouldn't make her do that.
"Of course." The officer looked like she wanted to throw her hands up in surrender and leave this job. Astrid couldn't blame her, the moral side of the law was boring.
Astrid didn't need a lawyer, she'd gone over this procedure countless times and always slipped her way from them.
"Did you notice anything weird before you left?"
"Depends on your definition of 'weird'."
"You know, anyone looking suspicious, or looking eager to get away from the site of explosion? Anything like that would help."
Astrid held her cuffed hands up. She tilted her head and blinked. "I might tell you anything if you take 'em off." She motioned to the cuffs. Usually she wasn't the one in them, if you know what that meant.
The officer raised her eye brows in surprise and unlocked them. She waited for Astrid's answer.
Astrid uncoiled her shoulders and sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips, "Not suspicious. But... if you don't consider a bunch of mobsters at the same place—"
"You knew who was at the party?"
"I knew what I was getting into." Not really, but she didn't need to know that.
"Did you see something that scared you? Or maybe witness some illegal activities?" The officer's nervous glance was swept towards the two-way mirror.
They were planning something. But what?
Another man, no a boy came in through the door and handed the officer a laptop. With a nod and a smile he left.
Astrid's heart thundered almost painfully against her chest. Whatever they were about to show her on the laptop can not be good. It would mean they were having some kind of photos or videos on them. And it would look a hell lot of bad on her.
"Explain this, Ms. Romano." The officer said and passed an A4 sized photograph over the table to Astrid.
There she was, palming her weapons and looking as though she had just something that could have taken away her life. Her now-brunette hair pinned on the back of her head, her black and gold dress a curtain of elegance behind her and the slit— the thing reveal her knives. Fibre knives.
Where was Marina when she was needed? She could have bought the entire place.
She couldn't call her family. With Sandro stuck under all the debris and bricks... she couldn't do that to them. And Nate and Al.
Astrid loosed a breathe. This was bad. Very, very bad.
Astrid raised a brave eyebrow, "The photograph could easily be photoshopped."
"That's the thing Ms. Romano." The officer grinned ear to ear, "It isn't."
Astrid scoffed, "So what? I'm just going to have to take your word for it?"
The officer pouted and pulled another paper. She passed it to her. Every layer of the photograph was severed. And at the very bottom of the report it confirmed the photo was not edited.
Astrid raised her hands in surrender, "It's New York. You can never be too careful here, officer."
"Do you know when someone needs to be careful?" The ifficer didn't wait for Astrid to answer, "When they are hiding something."
"Everyone has their secrets. I just happen to have bigger than the most." Astrid proped her elbow above the table and proped her face on it. As if this was the most boring thing in the world. "Besides this doesn't really prove anything."
"Oh, but I think it does." The officer pointed to the knives strapped to her thigh, "Those weapons are essentially illegal to possess and could land you straight into prison for at least three years."
Misdirection. She was attempting to have Astrid's attention onto defending herself against the weapons so that she could catch her off guard and get a confession of the explosion.
"Besides what's to say you can't light another building on fire when you already have once." The officer mused and leaned towards Astrid to whisper, "It was in London, right?"
Shit. The arson in London. The one that had her landed straight into the Romano's home— or mansion, whatever.
"Allegedly." Astrid said, "It was never proved."
"I won't stop until I know who did it." The officer said, determination shining in her brown eyes. Astrid recognized it all too clearly. She had the same look when she was in the Agency, until she learned of the monstrosities.
Astrid scoffed,"Good for you."
The door creaked again and the officer craned her neck to see who was there. The same boy peaked it, the mop of curly ginger hair falling to his eyebrows.
He blew the hair from his eyes, "There's someone asking for you."
The blinked in surprise but said, "Send them in."
Astrid raised her eyebrows in surprise. This was not what she expected when he said he'd come for her.
Martinez stood at the entrance of the interrogation room, arms crossed across his chest. He'd changed out of his fancy suit, she'd noticed. A small smile played on his lips, his eyebrows raised in amusement.
But beside him...
Zane stood there, his hands shoved in his pockets. His sharp features were morphed into something like hopelessness and sorrow. He looked the same as he did when a few weeks ago she'd kissed him. He smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No." Astrid whispered to herself. What the hell was Martinez thinking? He did not just—
"I was the one responsible for the explosion that took place at the annual ball." Just as she suspected. But what dirt did Martinez find on Zane that he willingly confessed to a crime he never did?
Martinez wouldn't save Astrid out of the goodness of his heart. What exactly did he intend?
Astrid heard the officer say, "This is an interesting turn of events."
What's more interesting would be the turn of her neck at one hundred eighty degrees.
Bitch—
____
A few minutes later, after reluctantly releasing Astrid from the interrogation room and ordering her to wait outside the room, Astrid stood exactly where she ordered to. She picked at her nails.
"Why did you drag him into this." The question was more of a demand for Martinez to tell her.
"I'm studying law, Hermosa." Ezra shrugged and looked at her, "I know how these people work. I knew they'd dig up whatever dirt they could find on you and use it against you.
"The only way I could save you was to find what they were looking for. Misdirect them into thinking it wasn't you."
"I don't care. You should've found someone else."
"I knew you cared under all that ice."
Did she care for Zane? Yes. No. Yes– She didn't know.
She'd known Zane for quite a long time. But caring would be a strong word. He was an acquaintance. But... Astrid preferred to keep him on an arm's length. She'd keep her secrets to herself.
"I need to talk to him." Astrid didn't waste her time as she snuck to where Zane was.
He layed on the concrete floor, his eyes closed as if he were in a daze. His chest heaved with every breathe he took, he physically looked drained, as if a few moments in prison had sucked the life out of him.
This was all her fault.
"What are you doing here?" Her question made him crack his eyes open, lazily. He sighed and got up from the floor.
His hands gripped the metal Bara of the prison. Astrid's heart recoiled. She remembered all the times she'd spent with him; all those stupid parties and drunk glasses.
He reached for her cheek through the space between the bars. Astrid leaned into it, he was one of the very first people since she'd... left the Agency. It felt like loosing that freedom.
"I think I lov—" Zane eyes widened as soon as Astrid broke their contact. Her eyes hardened and her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Don't." She interrupted. She wouldn't be tied down to a person who's going to spend a part of their life in a prison. She wouldn't waste her life like that. She deserved better and no amount of love would make her stay.
"Don't you dare say those words." Astrid whispered harshly.
Zane looked as if he had a million other things to say— that he wanted Astrid to hear.
Zane leaned in, his hands reaching for her. Astrid kept her eyes open as their lips met. For a brief moment, it felt as if everything was fine, like she wasn't a borderline loose canon on loose or that she was risking her life for money.
For a moment she wasn't thinking of all the promises Aria had made to her, wasn't thinking that she was a killer, wasn't thinking that she had guilt. She wasn't drowning for that brief moment.
But, as soon as he let go of her, it all came crashing down. She was drowning and she'd manged to pull him with her. She'd managed to ruin it too. And looking at the tears that were slowly drifting past his face, he had realized it too.
She wasn't worth it. She never was.
She let go of his hands, turned around and left.