Chapter 3

Daedalus watched as the gigantic wolf trash around in its cage, banging the metal bars, howling in pain. Mouth frothing, it collapsed and started convulsing, its paws drumming a rhythmic beat on the ground in its death throes. There was a screech as its claws made contact with the metal base –its very last movement.

The wolf's howls hung now in the air, the audible reminder of the existence of agony.

Daedalus sighed.

Another failure.

He dreaded having to report this to Hazard. He's got such a temper –especially now that Treal's found.

But there are more pressing matters at hand. Half of the contestants have been collected, and training days will begin in less than 2 weeks.

Will the mutts be ready by then?


Knight's P.O.V

Petra put up quite a fight. I fear for her now –the last time I saw her she was lying unconscious on the tiled floors of our kitchen after the woman was done with her. I can only hope Uncle Gale gets there fast.

I recognized my kidnappers as 2 of Hazard's cronies; part of the 5 that had singlehandedly taken over the Presidential House. They had done the impossible; the House had been a fortress, guarded by an infinite number of highly trained guards with state-of-the-art technology. All hopes of escape instantly vanished. There was no way I'm getting out of this now.

They threw me into a room void of any furniture or window, meaning the only means of entry and escape was through a steel door that was locked 24/7.

"You know, I didn't think he'd be this scrawny," Zeus, the burly man, muttered to Devious, his partner. Didn't even bother with the niceties of keeping his voice down so I wouldn't hear the obvious insult.

"Guess the Mockingjay never had any reason to train him," Devious shrugged. Her grin turned savage. "Bet she's regretting that choice now."

Theirs laugh echoed in the room long after they've banged the door shut and clicked the lock in place.

The sudden lack of light almost gave me a hyperventilation attack. To be robbed of my sight, the dominating sense, was an unwelcomed change to my system. As if possessed, I groped around blindly, myself unsure of what I was trying to find. I needed the reassurance that something else was there; whether it was a pillar or a wall I didn't care. I needed the certainty that I wasn't lost in an eternal void.

Only then did I realize that I wasn't alone.

I saw the gleams of 5 other pairs of eyes, watching the panicked newcomer trash around like a drunkard. Self-consciousness immediately took over, but quickly subsided when I realized that in this darkness they couldn't have seen anything much anyway.

"Umm, h-hello?" I called out, voice sounding strained after the few rounds of shouting and screaming back in the house.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, before a voice, unmistakably male, spoke up.

"Guess Mommy and Daddy didn't do so well cleaning up the filth eh," the boy says, hatred dripping from his voice. "They missed one of the particularly crazy ones –Snow's grandson too, at that."

"Goodness, Petra," a familiar voice cried out in alarm. "What on earth happened?"

Petra grunted as a response, too weak and in pain to do anything else. There was a dull throb in her left ankle, where the woman had kicked it hard. Definitely broken.

"I'm going to lift you up and put you on the couch okay? It's gonna sting a little," the man warned. Cracking her eyelids open half an inch, she made out the burly figure of Uncle Gale, his forehead creased with worry. She moved her head awkwardly in a failed attempt to nod.

"All right. One, two, three!" he huffed out as he hoisted Petra up. The pain was immediate. It was as if thousands of red-hot needles were being pushed into the flesh in her ankle. Her vision blurred as tears swam in her eyes, and she bit down hard on her lower lips, trying to ignore the excruciating pain.

Uncle Gale laid Petra on the couch, gently propping her injured ankle in a comfortable angle.

"Wait here, I'll go get help."

Petra's eyelids fluttered close as she heard the tiniest creak of the door and the sound of Uncle Gale's footsteps fading away. And that was when realization struck her like a bullet in her gut, leaving her gasping for air.

She had failed her little brother. She had let them take him away. She couldn't do anything to stop it.

She never spoke it out loud, holding on to that sliver of hope that it wasn't –it can't be- true, but she had her doubts that her parents were returning. History classes, as well as the few stories that her parents had told her had warned her of the dangers. Not everyone loved the Mockingjay. There are those few Capitol rebels lurking about in the deepest darkest shadows, plotting their revenge, hoping one day their thirst for the Mockingjay's blood would be quenched.

Maybe their wish had been fulfilled.

And with Knight gone too, she realized she's truly alone.

The tears came, silent at first, but not for long. Waves upon waves of incessant bitter sobs racked her body, as a concoction of emotions run through her –guilt, anger, fear, confusion.

Oh Knight, what have I done?


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