Icicles melt slowly, each wet drop falling painfully until the it loses itself in the pale snow.
Metal bars surround my home, caging me in like the monster I am. I wave to the camera in the south corner, cold air drawing from my lips. The door makes the lovely unlocking sound I only hear once a week. My smile grows wider. She’s here, again.
Two officers come around to the glass separating the cold and the warm. Smears of my blood decorate the clear crystal, our past meetings are often lovelier.
“Hello again, Agents.” I let the cold air out of my throat, a never ending smile stretches on my frozen face. “It’s quite chilly don’t you think?”
“Cut the crap, Circle.” Her blue eyes narrow on me, I hiss.
“Did I ask?” She smiles, my fingers curl under my sleeve. Today is different, she’s smiling.
Well, so am I.
“You ask almost every week for the same shit, Agent Machiavelli.” She bristles, “And I give you the same shitty answer.”
“You—” I cut her off.
“I want my special information, and I want it now. If I don’t get it then you don’t get yours. The truth will set you free.” I’m already walking to the glass between Agent Machiavelli and her partner. The glass is decorated with frost, it’s cold, it’s freezing.
Well, so am I.
Agent Machiavelli scowls at me, cold hatred burning like a wildfire in her eyes. But today is different, today is mine.
“It’s been months—it’s the end of August...” Her voice ran off, her moonlight pale face hardening with each word that rings in our cell. “What do you want to know?”
I hold the cold in the palm of my hand, it’s spike slicing down and drawing blood. It’s cold, it’s freezing, I’m melting.
My eyes drift away from the bitch and down to my scarred hand. Faint lines etch my skin, a smile rising softly on my cold lips.
“I want to know something different this time,” I step closer to the glass, I can make out each design of frost on the barrier separating me and my freedom.
“We have a deal S—” I silence her voice with a slam of my fist on the unbreakable glass with a snarl. How dare she almost mutter my name.
“I want to know!” I scream, a manical laugh freezing the air around us. I want to know—I need to know.
I need to know everything about her.
“You will tell me, Agent.” The icicle slipping from my cold steel grip. It’s cold, it’s freezing, it’s snowing, it’s winter, and I am burning in the heart of it.
“Tell me and then we have a deal.” Agent Machiavelli’s voice brings music to my ears, I smile. “Tell me where they are—tell me where that group of rats are hiding!” She yells, a vein popping out of her forehead. Blue eyes glaring at me so maliciously I can almost imagine hers.
“Tell me first,” The ice in my arm slides down into my fingers, “Now.”
“She recently found someone knew,” The CIA agent says, rubbing her forehead as if she’s rubbing away the guilt.
No—no. It’s impossible, she wouldn’t—she couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to me. I have to get out—I have to. I have to meet her, I will finally meet her.
I need her.
“Who?” I scream, the ice sliding into my heart. Icicles corrupting my mind, the snow won’t stop falling, the cold won’t stop biting. Winter won’t stop coming.
Agent Machiavelli says nothing. There’s almost remorse in her face but her blue eyes blink it away. Her dark hair framed on her head, wrinkles crease in her eyes. Days of demanding, working, losing, for nothing.
It will all be for nothing.
“I can’t—” The frozen pike slides out of my sleeve, numbness prickling in my bones. I stab the ice into the glass and it shatteres into a million pieces. The freezing glass cracks, finally.
I’ll finally see her—meet her. After all these years.
My hand grabs the gun out of the other agents, twisting the handle and cocking the gun to his head. An easy death, crimson blood graces the concrete floor of my cell. I shoot Agent Machiavelli in the leg, I need her alive.
She yells out but I silence her, gripping her ebony strands and slamming her head against the bars. She falls down on the floor, her blue eyes face my own eyes and I smile—I laugh.
“Who has my moon found?” I yell, my moon couldn’t do that to me. We haven’t even had our time yet.
Agent Machiavelli smiles, a beaming grin of ice. Her blue eyes shimmering with glee, as if death knocking on her door is a joke.
After all of those years—after hearing all about her. After hearing everything about her. After knowing everything about her. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t. My moon cannot—will not. She can’t like—no, she cannot love another.
“I fed you information about her,” I stepped on her leg, the CIA agent screamed out. “I-I’ve done the worst possible thing I could ever do, and yet, I’m not guilty. Not even in the slightest.” Agent Machiavelli says, crying out as my bare foot presses harder. Her head rises, the viscous smirk I’ve known for all of these years comes back into play. “I will find your Circle, Circulus. I will find the Circle of Seven. And when I do, I will kill all of you.”
I point the gun, a bullet piercing her side but not enough to kill. I haven’t had my fun yet. Winter hasn’t ended yet.
“Who?” My mind is only on my moon. She is the only thing that has kept me alive, and I’ll have her. I’ll have her or I’ll die in the cold.
I’ll be cold. I’ll freeze. It will keep snowing. Winter will never end if I don’t have my moon with me.
The agent smiles again, my icicle eyes glaring into her. I’ll find her, I swear I will. “You know him well, Circulus. You know him oh-so well.”
“Who?” I scream so loudly my voice cracks, when the words leave her lips I’m shaking. Shaking her rage.
Rage for Agent Machiavelli.
Rage for all of the years I’ve been here.
Rage for my moon.
“Steele Winters.” The agent says, and cold completely consumes me. Rage falling down on me like the inescapable blizzard it is.
Rage for the man who put me in here.
Oh boy oh boys!
This chapter has told you that Circulus is free, and he will find his moon.
Who is Circulus?
Why was he given information on Reign?
Who is Agent Machiavelli?
And how does Circulus know Steele?
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