In another life, another time, when she was a different person, a whole woman, she might’ve.
“I was worried about you,” she said. She could be honest with him. That she could do.
“For no reason at all. I’m fine.”
“What did the sergeant want?”
“He asked me questions about the murders. He wanted details.”
“And what did you say?”
“I don’t know. Things. Whatever I could come up with.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t actually know any details.”
“I did my best. He said the investigation is ongoing and they are questioning witnesses. But it shouldn’t be long now.”
She bit her lip, uncertain of how to proceed. How long had it been since they met? Two weeks? She’d lost track of time, forgotten to count the days. But in this time, she’d become convinced that he knew very little about the world. So, itwas entirely possible that he didn’t know, in fact, about the possibility of getting the death sentence, and if she told him, what would that make her? His torturer.
Had the sergeant not told him? The guards? Maybe they had, but so much irreverent shit came out of their mouths, that sometimes it was hard to tell when they were being serious or just messing with one’s head.
“I think...” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I think the sergeant doesn’t believe me.”
A flutter started in Seraphina’s chest and spread down into her stomach. Hope. What a dangerous thing to feel.
“That’s a good thing,” she said. “You should come clean, maybe they’ll let you go.”
“No.”
“I can help you when you’re outside. When we’re both out of here. You’re innocent, and my trial will end in my favor when everyone learns the truth about what Hartmann did.”
She felt her heart pick up the pace, the hopeful flutter spreading through her limbs now, and up her throat, to her head.
“Did you tell the sergeant what’s happening here? That I was put in your cell and Hartmann wants me dead?”
“N-No...”
She pursed her lips. Of course, she hadn’t asked him. But she’d hoped he’d have the presence of mind to take advantage of his meeting with the man in charge and advocate for her.
“I didn’t, because I’m getting you out anyway,” he added. “We’ll wait a few days, until you–”
“It’s not possible, Rune.”
“Until you stop bleed–”
“Stop it,” she cut him off. “Trying to escape is suicide.”
But for him, staying was suicide, too. She sank her fingers into her hair and pulled at the roots, her sharp nails scratching her scalp.
“I will get you out of here, Seraphina.”
She was starting to like how her name sounded in that deep, baritone voice of his.
“I’ll let you,” she said, giving in. “But only if you come with me, Rune.”
“I will.”
And there it was again. The lie.
