Prologue, Part Two.


Tristan Salvatore, 19, Citizen of New Orleans, Louisiana.


It's cold.

It's the first I notice, even before I wake up. It's not the kind of cold that makes you want to sit next to a fireplace and drink hot chocolate to get warm, but the kind of cold that makes you want to run, run and run until you find somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.

"Time to wake up, Mr. Salvatore. We have business to discuss." I recognize the voice as soon as he starts to speak. Of course. My father used to say that power is like an addiction, the more you have, the more you want.

It seems like he was right, after all. Again.

I don't feel bad for not listening to my father. I don't feel for bad for not loving him, in a way that any son should love his father. However, this one thing that I regret and that is not considering that my father might have been right. At least, he was right about Hoster Manderly.

When I open my eyes, all I see is white. It's ironic, considering the kind of situation that I'm currently in. White was always a color associated with purity and innocence, the opposite of the man next to me.

If this room was anything like Hoster Manderly, it should be all painted in black.

"Do we? Where should we start then, Hoster? At the part where you betrayed my family?" He sits in a chair, a few feet away from me. Hoster Manderly was never a man to wear something that wasn't the best he could find, and even now, he had picked his best suit for the occasion.

An occasion that will probably end with my death.

People are so scared of death that they stop living, but they never really think about dying until death is staring them right in the face. I know, because that's what happening to me right now.

I never thought about dying, neither did I stop living because I was afraid to die. But right now, standing right here in the middle of no where in front of the man that betrayed my family, it's a possibility I have to consider.

"I didn't betray anyone, Mr. Salvatore. Not yourself, not your father or anyone in your family. I just did what I had to do, no matter what I wanted. You see, Tristan, this is why I'm still here and your father is about to be sent to his grave. I do whatever I have to do, no matter what I want or what I'm feeling. Your father, though, did what he thought was best."

No, Hoster, you're wrong. He was a bad person, but you might be even worse than him.

"My father is not what matters here. He's gone, and he's not longer in charge of the Salvatore family. I am." Hoster throws his head back, laughing.

"Oh, my dearest Tristan. I know this might be hard for you, so let me explain it again. Your family has money, yes, and that might be what will keep all of you alive for a little longer. But whatever power you had in the Hunting Games, it's gone. It's mine."

That's when I realize that someone else might be watching. Hoster is not dumb at all, as he has proven in the last few days, so he must know that it wouldn't be that easy to take the place in the organization that belongs to a member of the Salvatore family.

This is something else. And to figure out what this is about, I need to take a page from Hoster's book, and play the game exactly like he is playing it.

"Fine. You want to get our place in the organization? It's yours. I never cared about it, anyway. Look at me, Hoster. I'm nineteen years old. I don't want to sit in a chair and plan a fight to the death with other people, I want to go out there and make mistakes," The look on Hoster's face is telling me that I'm doing the right thing. He's interested.

"I wanna pick a fight with the wrong guy and break a few bones, I wanna fall in love and I want to see the world. I don't want anything of this. This was my father's world and there's a reason why I hated it. Why I hated him."

He nods, but I can tell by the look on his face that he's not convinced, not yet.

Work harder, Tristan. Remember what is at stake.

That was what he used to tell me, whenever I didn't do as well as he wanted on a test, or whenever I don't the interest he wanted me to show in the Hunting Games. I never listened to him, but right now, I see that he was right.

I need to work harder. I need to remember what is at stake.

My family.

That is when I realize that my father and I weren't that different, but there was one thing that always separated us. He wanted to do what he thought was best, and I only wanted to protect the family that he left behind.

Love isn't weakness. It's strenght. And right now, it's the only thing making me stronger. It's like fire, cursing through my veins, making me want to fight. To avenge my father, because if there's one thing I'm sure about, is that my father was killed by Hoster Manderly.

I might have never liked him, but it's my duty to avenge him. To protect our family.

"So, what do you say, Mr. Manderly? Are you finally ready to get what you always wanted, and let my family go? Because if you are, I promise that we'll leave and you'll never see us again."

He smiled. "You are a smart boy, Tristan. It's such a shame that this has to happen. If things had been different, if your father had been different to me, I might have taken you in, now that he's gone."

"My father was your friend. He thought of you like a brother, the brother that he never had." Staying calm is impossible right now, even if it was the best thing to do.

I hate him. I hate all of them. And right now, it's getting harder and harder to pretend that I even tolerate him.

"He should have payed more attention to his brother then, and he would have realized that he and I were nothing alike." I'm about to get up and give this man what he deserves, consequences be damned, when the door opens.

And, for a second, my heart stops beating.

Soldiers come in, but to me, they are nothing. Next to them, however, are the people that matter the most to me. My mother, trying to hold on to my brothers and to my sister, as if anything could take them from her, at any moment.

And it could. It will.

The soldiers force my family to get on their knees, each with a gun pointed to the back of their head. "What do you want? I told you, you can even it all! All the money, everything, just let them go. Please." I feel the tears blurring my vision and I want to hate myself for being weak, but I don't care about myself. Not anymore.

They are all that matters.

Hoster only laughs. "There is it, Tristan. I already have everything I want. I never needed you, or your family. I just wanted to see if you were just like your father, and you are. Even if you don't want to admit it."

He nods to the soldier standing on his left, and hesitation, he fires. My little sister falls to the ground, her blood splattering across the white floor.

I don't want to watch anymore. I don't want to fight.

Please, please.

One by one, they all fall down. My family. And with each of them, a piece of my heart dies as well, leaving me with nothing but a hole where my heart once was.

When he turns the gun to me, I don't move. It's not worth it. Not anymore.

I'm tired of fighting.

"And with the Salvatore family gone, a new era can finally begin. One where the Hunting Games will be the best one yet."

He pulls the trigger, and everything turns black.

I'm sorry.


Hey. It's been a while, but I'm finally back. I know everyone probably skipped to the end to see if their tribute was accepted or not, but hey, the prologue is important. In case you are wondering, yes, Hoster will be a character in the story. Not as important as the tributes or even the hunters, of course, but he'll have a role to play in the rest of the story.

About the tributes. I loved every single tribute I got, but I couldn't accept all of them. You'll notice that I accepted two more tributes than the 12 I said I would accept, but there's a reason for that. It will be explained in the next few chapters. A blog review would be very much appreciated, so I can see who you like and who you don't like.

Also, I'm not going to lie to anyone. I love reviews, as much as the next person does. It's way to keep me motivated and even if reviews don't decide who lives or dies, it's something that I consider. It tells me who's reading and who isn't, and honestly, how can I write your tribute in the way you want me to write them if I don't know if I'm doing it right or not?

Also, I changed a few ages and details about the tributes. Hope you don't mind. Blog link is on my profile.

The list!


Tribute List:

Females:

- Alys Crawford, 35.

- Genevieve Kalantar, 30.

- Breelyn Osborne, 25.

- Cirian Costello, 28.

- Lilya Walker, 24.

- Erica Schmidt, 32.

- Avery Castella, 20.

Males:

- Ren Ohara, 19.

- Casimir Viteri, 28.

- Abdul Raymond, 23.

- Jett Archer, 41.

- Emmanuel Johnston, 19.

- Asa Richgels, 24.

- Damien Arczynski, 30.