Prologue
Fire rages through a dense jungle, explosions fill the air in an endless torrent of fear. I run, I scream for her, but smoke chokes me. I fall, and a canon fires. It's too late.
I wake up in a cold sweat, panting heavily as I sit up from the thin mat I call a bed. The monochromatic cell greets me, reminding me that my nightmares are not real, though what I am facing may well be worse.
At least they don't have her.
That's the only consolation I've had these past few days in the prison, or wherever I am being held. No one is being very forthcoming, not that I really expected them too. Still, I'm more than a little confused-my treatment here has been about as far from what I expected as possible. Granted, they did capture me, knock me out, and lock me in some unknown location, but still, while I've been here I've been well fed, and all my injuries have been treated by soft-voiced nurses.
I know the treatment won't last. I know what's coming, at least in a vague sense. What I don't know is what they are preparing me for. It seems that my questions are soon to be answered, however, as President Snow walks into my cell, alight with a false smile that reeks of bad intention. "Peeta," he chirps, far too cheerful for what I know his words will be.
"I do hope your treatment here has been satisfactory?" I eye him warily, but don't give him the satisfaction of an answer. "I am sure you're away this isn't going to last, however. You're far too...valuable, to us," he adds icily. "Still, I require one last favor of you. You're going to call for a cease fire from the rebels."
I glare at him, trying to put all my hatred in front of my fear. "Why would I do that?" I ask.
Again, he smiles, sending a shiver down my spine. "Do you want her to live?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep my face clear though I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. "Should this Districts lose-which they will-we can't very well spare the rebel leader, can we?" he asks.
"She's not!" I protest. "She didn't want this! We didn't know."
Snow leans in closer, the sickening sweetness of his breath making me nauseous as he hisses, "Exactly." He pulls away, continuing in a brisk formality again. "Call for the ceasefire, and you can present her in whatever manner you decide. Pregnant, alone, confused-anything. I, nor any one, will refute it."
I study him for a moment, trying to understand why he would even offer me this boon. "Why do you want a ceasefire?" I demand. "Couldn't you crush the districts? I mean, you have the most advanced weaponry."
His eyes flash for a moment in a mixture of fear and hatred-so fast I think I might have imagined it. But he continues coolly, with a false smile, "Peeta! I am not so cold as you may think. I do not want needless deaths on my hands." His eyes lock on mine, a challenge, though I refuse to look away. So, his voice sickly smooth, he continues. "It broke my heart to have to do that to District 12," he announces, savagery behind his words.
"Do what?" I ask, trying to mask the fear from my voice, unwilling to give him that satisfaction. He gives me a smile filled with fake sympathy. "Why, bomb it, of course." He says the words with such simplicity as my world comes crashing down around me yet again. I grip the edges of my bed desperately, trying to keep myself upright despite the news. I gasp, looking up at him with a question in my eyes. His eyes narrow, dropping all pretenses as with a savage growl he hisses, "They're all dead. Your family, your friends. Those few that survived escaped to District 13. And if you don't cooperate, they will soon follow the rest of District 12 to the grave." Then, abruptly reverting to his pompous self, he adds, "Caesar will be waiting in an hour for your interview."
The door swings shut behind him, leaving me alone in the emptiness. I struggle for breath as I try to process what he has just told me. My friends, my parents. My brothers-one just had a little baby.
It's too much.
I'm really alone now.
Ten seconds. That's how long I allow myself to grieve. Ten seconds of a soul-crushing despair, punctured by cries into nothingness begging for mercy. An end to the pain. But I can't give up, not now.
I have to pull myself together. I have to be what they ask of me, because it is her only chance. And though I feel empty, holes ripped into the only semblance of normalcy left to me, I have to go on. I don't know how, yet. I don't know how to survive with this burden.
Yet I know I'll do it.
As ever, I'll do whatever it takes to save her.
