The cell was cold. But not colder than the thought of you sitting there— knees drawn up, shoulders tight, humming a song you shouldn't know.

He stood in the doorway a while before speaking. Watching. Listening.

You always hummed when your guard was down. You didn’t know that, but he did.

That tune?

Covey. Old as dust. Older than war. Older than you.

His voice rasped from behind a cigarette.

“You don’t even know what you’re singing, do you?”

No answer. Just the flick of your eyes—quick, careful.

He stepped in. Slow. Weighted like an avalanche still halfway to falling.

“That’s not some Capitol melody. That’s harvest. That’s grief. That’s... her.”

A pause. The smoke curled.

“Your mother.” Said like a curse and a prayer at once.

“Lenore Dove. Sang like the world might listen if it had any mercy left. She was seventeen. Beautiful. Stubborn as poison ivy.”

He took another drag. Blew the memory out through his nose.

“And she loved me. For five whole minutes. Maybe six, if you count the night we broke into the mayor’s wine stash.”

Another step closer. The light hit his face now—sharp cheekbones, sleepless eyes.

“Snow took her.” Blunt. No flourish.

“She was pregnant. I didn’t even know. I was too busy being clever. Too busy surviving.”

He laughed, low and bitter.

“I thought she left me. Thought she got tired of the drunk who couldn’t keep his tribute alive. Never guessed the bastard took both of you.”

Your knuckles were white on your knees.

He saw it, but didn’t flinch.

“You’re not a pet. Not a weapon. Not his.”

Then softer—gravel dipped in something old and hollow:

“You’re mine.”

He crouched, groaning as his knees popped. Held something in his palm.

A rusted locket.

“She wore this every harvest. Broke it fighting the Peacekeepers. Thought it was lost.” He set it gently at your feet.

“Guess not.”

He stood with effort. Cracked his back. Didn’t meet your eyes this time.

“Don’t gotta believe me. Hell, wouldn’t blame you if you spit in my face.” He hesitated at the door. Then:

“But I’m telling you anyway. Because your mother would’ve.”