Timber

Chapter Sixty-Five: Penultimatum

The night air was thick with the humid scent of approaching rain as heavy oak doors shut with a dull thud behind her.

"Come for a drink, my girl?" A strained voice called out from the darkness. Hazel flinched, spinning toward the nearly pitch-black yet vast dining room, crutches squeaking against the burnished floors. It was identical to the one she had just watched her mother cook in. But instead of the warmth of Fern, a vague chill permeated it, and the streetlights bathed everything in a sallow haze.

"You have never been good at sneaking. Must've gotten that from your mother."

Heath lounged in the dimly lit room, twirling a bottle in his hands. Two tall wine glasses sat on the table before him. He's been waiting for me.

"Maybe we could share the bottle; you've earned it after all," Heath said, tilting his head as his green eyes shone like murky emeralds.

"I don't want a drink."

"Should've guessed." His scrutiny shifted from the bottle to Hazel. "Come to apologize then?"

She had to fight the urge to hurl one of her crutches at him. It was as if pure audacity flowed through the man's veins. "No."

Heath feigned looking over her shoulder, "You didn't bring your little peacekeeper friends with you?"

"We're going to talk, just me and you. I deserve to hear it from my father."

Heath leaned back in the refined dining chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "And what exactly do you think you deserve, Hazel?"

"I want to know what the actual hell is going on. I expected evasion from Senator Snow and the people in the Capitol, but I hoped my own father would have the decency to tell me the truth."

"You want the truth, do you?" His voice was deceptively calm as he set the bottle down on the table. "Ask your questions. Let's see how much you really want to know."

Hazel sucked in a deep breath as the gentle melody of rain began its song against the dining room windows.

"Tell me about Silus."

"Your dearest stepfather brought that on himself, I'm afraid." Heath let out a harsh exhale. "Silus was reaped by the seeds his father sowed. Once the Capitol learned of his... habits."

Hazel squinted, "I'm sure how they obtained such information is a mystery."

Heath didn't flinch at her sarcastic tone. "Oren put all of District Seven at risk with his recklessness. Talking to other districts? Pushing back on quotas and Capitol orders? He was asking for trouble, and he knew it. The Capitol was bound to take notice sooner or later. I just pushed the needle toward sooner."

"How did you even know all of that?"

Heath tilted his head, features filled with taunting arrogance. "Why? Looking to go into the family business?"

"You're barely lucid on a good day." Hazel bit back.

"Let's just say it's amazing what people will tell you when they've gotten a few drinks in them."

"So, you fed them information, and they took Silus as punishment."

Heath leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the bottle. "Essentially, but it's more complicated than that. Oren was getting too bold, too influential. Everyone knows the Capitol doesn't tolerate people like him—they make examples. So, yes, I gave them the information they needed. Better to cut off the diseased, wayward hand before it poisons the rest of the body."

"How noble," Hazel muttered.

"The Capitol needed to be reminded that District Seven knew its place, and Oren, that he wasn't untouchable."