The Grove (Ravens #1)

xiv. flight of the nightingale

A/N

Since a lot of people started school today, I thought I'd update!

WARNING: This is the most gory chapter so far. There are detailed descriptions of blood. If this makes you uncomfortable, but would still like a recap, please let me know.  Do not read if it makes you uncomfortable. 

When Mason entered Emma's cell that fatal morning, he was met with three other guards in the midst of a torture session. Although he and Megan were technically in charge, of the prisoners, there were other guards who shared the responsibility of forcing information out of the most disobedient hostages. He saw a black belt in the hands of one their hands, and a glaring prisoner.

"Clear out," Mason instructed, and the guards stepped back. He now had a clear view of Emma: she was tied to the pole at her waist, and her wrists were tied above her head. He could see from the paleness of her hands that they were losing circulation, but if Emma noticed, she didn't provide any sign. "Are you alright?" Mason asked, untying her waist. In response, she spat at him, which of course included blood. He shut his eyes and frowned; could he really blame her for actions? If anything, it was to his own advantage. Her disrespect might make it easier for him to take her life.

Emma noticed that this was the first time any Condor had entered the cell without backup. Mason was alone, and so she understood perfectly well what was about to happen, "You're here to kill me, aren't you?" Mason sighed, fingers brushing the top of his knife. It was Emma's knife, actually, confiscated upon her capture. He figured that would be the most poetic way to carry out this task, to kill her with her own blade. At the same time, he couldn't look her in the eyes and admit the truth of what he had been assigned to do. "You don't have to."

"You're right," Mason nodded, "I wouldn't have to if you would provide us with any information."

"Too bad, you'll just have to become a murderer," Emma said. She then added, "That is, unless I can provide you with something else."

"All I need is your information, or your life. Either will benefit us, your choice as to which helps you most," Mason said.

"Untie me," Emma directed. When she saw Mason snicker at her absurd direction, she continued, "It's not like I could attack you." It was true, the girl had somehow managed to appear even weaker than when he'd last seen her. He was surprised she had this much force in her voice even, he'd have expected her to barely be able to speak. 

Mason sighed and listened to the prisoner. Killing her in such a vulnerable position seemed a little too cruel. If she was able to move herself, theoretically run from his blade, and he conquered her, then it wouldn't have all been his fault, right? The second Emma's arms came down, he found one clinging onto his shirt, drawing him closer to her. Before he could even react, his lips were on hers and the two were connected. At first he was surprised, but he found himself kissing her back, passionately. For Emma, she had never kissed a boy so hard in her life. It was the first time she was kissing for her life. She felt him reach down to lift up her shirt, and she allowed him to see the battered body underneath.

"You don't want to kill me, Mason," Emma whispered into, lightly biting his lip in the midst of their kisses, "You don't want to become a murderer."

It was then that the boy broke away from their embrace, shaking his head. "We shouldn't have done that."

Emma frowned, "But your girlfriend does all the time. You should ask her." At that, Mason turned away. He knew of Emma's old connection with Megan, and he had a vague suspicion that what Emma alluded to was true. At the same time, Emma took a single glance at her arms, freed for the first time since she arrived in the cell. She gasped when she examined her left forearm. Carved into it was the number 37. The blood there was dried, and what was left was a deep scar she realized would likely never fade completely.