Apologies for the influx of really long chapters. They should go back to a more manageable length after this. There's just been a lot of drama to get through in the past couple chapters.

Once again, the utterly amazing A M4D TE4 P4RTY has made some absolutely incredible collages for this story! The links are all on my profile, so check them out and shoot A M4D TE4 P4RTY the appropriate praise, because they're so wonderful and awesome!

Kale Hackberry, 17, District 11

For the past few days, it's been pretty easy to forget where we are and what we have to do, especially since Sam and I are so preoccupied with finding food (which, aside from the odd herb or root in a garden, we still haven't fucking found). All I have are vague, chaotic memories of that first morning, and even those I can write off as inconsequential. The kills were made in the heat of the moment, when everyone was ruled by fear. Now that we've all had four days to cool down, no one will murder again.

At least I thought that way, until about an hour before sunset, a cannon sounded.

Even then, I tried to ignore what it meant. But now, as the anthem begins to play, the facts are impossible to reject. For the first time in four nights, someone's face is going to appear in the sky, showing us that somehow, somewhere in this arena, another kid passed away.

My stomach twists just thinking about it.

"Hey," Sam says, catching my fingers as they start to rapidly drum against the stone steps we sit on. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but remember, this is good. More time bought for us."

"Right."

I nearly manage to convince myself, too. After all, I'm not exactly an ethical guy. Why should I give a damn about some random kid who bit it?

I shouldn't.

But it's not some random kid who lights up the sky.

"No." The word's out of my mouth before I can think. Hell, I don't even know who I'm protesting to. But I do know I should not be looking up to find such familiar green eyes staring back at me.

Katerina. She's . . . she's gone.

Sam sucks in a sharp breath when she recognises the girl. "Your district partner," she murmurs, taking my trembling hand in hers and giving it a sympathetic squeeze. "I'm sorry. Her alliance should have taken better care of her."

"I should have taken better care of her," I mutter, pulling away and getting to my feet. Before Sam can say another word, I'm up the steps to our latest "home" and storming through the doorway.

Yet even a ceiling can't lessen the sting of the accusing glare shining down on me. I may not have wanted her around, but still, Katerina is—was—from my district, therefore, by extension, she was my family. That's what our old mayor, the rebellious one who first started the war movement in Eleven, would always say. In a district full of orphans, of sickness and starvation that could spirit loved ones away, you should never feel alone because we were all family.

It was a concept I'd always rolled my eyes and scoffed at, but deep down, as a guy with a dead dad, a neglectful mother, and no siblings to speak of, it was almost . . . reassuring. People like Sorrel would treat me as a brother, or a son, even when I didn't deserve it, because we were family, and that was what family did.

Except I didn't. When Katerina needed my help most, I turned and ran because I was a fucking coward who was terrified she'd weigh me down and get me killed. Looks like it was the other way around.

I storm into the tiny kitchen of the house, because it's the only room filled with crap I can hurl against the walls. It's all useless anyways. What's the point in a kitchen when it has no fucking food?

I snarl and fling the nearest empty pot across the room. My already-short temper has been whittled away even further thanks to the hunger gnawing in my gut. It's been even worse for Sam, who's nowhere near as used to the feeling as I am. Having given up on her obsession with the Ones, she's poured all her energy into devising plans to find us food, but they have yet to yield any results.

Two jars are thrown in rapid succession, cracking against the far wall and shattering into a dozen clay pieces. Over the sound of the carnage, I can still hear my escort's last words to me, the night before this all began.

"Don't get snarky with me, you district hick. Remember, I'm the one in control of sending you whatever crap you need in that arena, so piss me off, and you won't get shit."

Is that it, then? I got on the wrong side of my escort, and now he's refusing to send me anything? Or no one is willing to buy me anything in the first place. After all, I was told sponsors would gravitate towards the more likable tributes, or the ones currently winning this game, and I am about as far from either of those things as you can get.

Another jar smashes to the floor. Another memory of my asshole escort's words.

"Don't even try to make friends with the audience—you're about as appealing as vomit. Odds are, they'll never get past the fact that you're from Eleven, but if you want to have a snowball's chance in hell of coming out of that arena alive, you have to show you're willing to play their game."

With a shout, I overturn the entire table. My face is hot, my brain pounding as it cycles through every cause of my anger.

Katerina's death. My escort and his useless advice. This hellhole. The aching pains in my stomach. The futility of our situation. Me and everything about me.

My sandal brushes against an overturned box. I stomp down on it, wishing the sound of wood cracking beneath my feet was ten times more satisfying than it is. Wanton destruction is of no use. I need . . . I need . . .

Anxious eyes flit around the room before returning to the remaining splinters of the broken box. Beneath them I can just see a small, iron doohickey and an old stone.

My heart jumps to my throat. I don't need to pick the rock up to know what it is.

Flint.

So the iron is what the Romans used to strike the flint and start a fire.

My fingers shake violently as I bend down, reaching for the tools. Would it really be so bad to . . . just one little spark?

"Kale?"

I yank my hand away and whirl around to face Sam. Her eyes are locked on mine as she enters the torn-up kitchen; she didn't notice what I was about to do. Or, at least, doesn't care.

"Well . . ." She sighs, taking in the mess of thrown pots and shattered jars. "Guess we won't be cooking in here anytime soon."

"And what, pray tell, would we cook anyways?" I grumble. "Hot water and herbs again?"

"It was kind of like soup. Just a bit more watery and less . . . soupy." She tries to crack a smile, but the joke falls flat when her stomach growls louder than the cannon from earlier. "Dammit."

"This is hard on you, huh?"

"Uh, pretty sure it's been hard on both of us," Sam says, gesturing around the kitchen before sighing again. "I'm sorry, Kale. I mean, I knew this would be crappy, but not . . . not like this. First the food, and now Katerina—"

I bristle immediately at the name, all my earlier guilt flooding back, bolstered by the fact that I'd ignored her situation to whine about my own petty problems. "Don't worry about her," I say through gritted teeth, deliberately turning away from Sam. "Not like we were close anyways. I really don't care."

The lie is a pathetic one, even by my standards.

"Still," Sam says softly, coming to my side. "She was from your home. No matter how you felt about each other, you were still both Elevens, and that means something. Now that she's gone, and you have no one to share that bond with . . . Trust me, I know what it's like. You feel so alone."

I'm about to point out that her district partner, traitorous bastard though he is, is still alive and kicking, but I stop myself. The day we heard the Capitol was deporting Aemilius Lewellyn and the other snitches to a "safer" district was a sad day indeed for all the rebels who wanted them strung up for their crimes. That was just a few weeks after the war ended, meaning Aemilius couldn't have been a citizen of 5 for more than a year. Hell, I know he even spent a longer time in 11 than that. Maybe that's why Sam looks so down.

"We're not alone," I say before I can think, turning back to fully face her. "We've got each other."

She looks up and meets my eyes, a new hope lighting hers. For the briefest of moments, it feels nice, like we've just shared some sort of profound bond.

Then her eyes turn mischievous, and I realise the mistake I made.

"Oh my god. Did you really just say that?"

"Shut up."

"Wow. I mean, wow. Remind me, why are we bothering searching for food when you can provide all the cheese we need?"

I scowl in the face of her smile, though I can feel the corners of my lips quirking up. "You're never gonna let me hear the end of that one, are you?"

"Never in a million years."

She laughs, and I nearly do too, but there's a weight in my stomach that stops me short. After all that's happened tonight, am I really allowed to be happy? The memory of Katerina's face in the sky returns, and I feel like a jerk for even trying to lighten the mood.

Sam doesn't miss the return of my somber expression, and matches it with one of her own. "I'm so sorry," she says quickly. "Laughing tonight . . . it's insensitive."

"It's fine." But it's not; the implication of Katerina's death alone is enough to sap the cheer from the room, leaving nothing but a hollow chill in its place. There's still a part of me that I think won't truly believe she's gone until I have more proof than a cannon fire and a picture in the sky, but at the same time . . .

"Who would do something like that?" I burst out, not even seriously asking, just trying to get my raging thoughts in order. "She was innocent, sweet, fourteen—who could ever . . .?"

I trail off, but Sam is never one to leave a question alone. "My first guess was the psycho from Ten," she says, coming to sit by the spot where I've sullenly sunk to the ground. "If there was ever a killer in the arena, well, he doesn't exactly scream 'gentle giant'. But you saw how obsessed he was with getting his district partner back on that first day. Ran right out of the bath, not giving anyone a second glance. She's clearly his first target, so why would he bother killing anyone else beforehand?"

"There's also the girl from Two," I mutter, bringing my knees up to my chest. "She never seemed like a friend to the rebels."

"I thought about her too, but I still hit a wall. If she's planning on taking out the rebels, why start with Katerina? No offence, but I don't think she meant much to the alliance. Why not start by taking out one of their leaders, throw them into disarray?"

"Katerina's still from Eleven. Maybe the Capitol wants her gone fast."

"If that were true, you'd be dead as well. No, I think the Capitol wanted to keep you both around, have you at their mercy for as long as possible. That way, they can draw out your torture."

"Not helping, Sam."

"Sorry. Just trying to get the facts straight." She sighs, leaning back against the wall with me. "And the fact is, there's no conceivable, sane reason why anyone would want to kill Katerina."

I haven't thought of all the possibilities myself, but Sam's way smarter than me anyways, so who am I to argue with her deductions? If she says there's no sane reason for killing Katerina, then there isn't, but that answer makes me all the more furious. If there's no sane reason, than why was she fucking killed?

All at once, my thoughts clear and a single idea pops into my head. One that makes my blood boil.

"So," I say slowly, jaw clenched, my tone one of forced calm. "What are the conceivable, insane reasons?"

"Pardon?"

"You said it makes no sense for someone to kill Katerina. But what if the killer's brain doesn't make sense to begin with?" Memories of that first day come back to me, all the screaming and the sickening cracks of Soren's head on stone. I clench my fists tight enough to draw blood. "And who do we know who flipped his lid and went batshit?"

Sam stares at me as it dawns on her. "You think . . . Vesper . . ."

"I think he's the only one psychotic enough to attack an innocent girl. Hell, he was probably the one who killed that other fourteen-year-old on that first day." I'm angry again, my voice growing louder and louder as I continue, "And if he could murder a blind girl, what would stop him from hurting Katerina? You've said it yourself, his district partner is using him to win. She turned him into a monster, and now she's unleashing him on all of us."

Sam bites her lip, looking at her feet. "I wanted to be wrong," she whispers. "After you said give it up, I put it out of my head, convinced myself I was being stupid. I mean, with four days of nothing, I . . . I figured we were safe."

"Well, we're not."

I'm furious—no, past the point of even that. If I'd just listened to Sam on that first day, accepted the fact that the Ones were a threat and helped her to bring them down, this never would have happened. Sure, Katerina and I were doomed the moment we entered this arena, but still, I could have bought her more time. Her death is on me for being a cowardly, pacifistic wuss, and I hate myself for it.

But hate is so much easier to turn on others. Especially when there's an obvious scapegoat.

"When I told you to stop thinking about getting rid of the Ones," I start slowly, turning my gaze on Sam. "Did you forget all the plans you'd made?"

"Well . . . no." She crosses her arms defensively. "You can't kill an idea."

"Good."

"What?"

"Good," I repeat, barely hearing my own words over the sound of my heart pounding furiously in my chest. Sam looks like she can't believe her ears, but I press on, "Good. Because we're going to get rid of them."

I'm going to kill the Ones. For Katerina.

Bolt Andrews, 14, District 3

I can still see her across the street. Night has fallen, but the moon is full and high in the sky, giving off just enough light to make out her figure.

Is it really already time for a full moon? I thought I saw one not long before I was dragged away from District 3. Maybe the whole thing is an illusion designed by the people who built this place, and the moon I'm looking at isn't a moon at all. Such technology isn't impossible; my brother used to work on stuff like it.

Aaand now I'm thinking about Rob. And the rest of my family. Shoot.

"You should come back inside," a quiet voice says behind me as tears well in my eyes once more. "No point being out here torturing yourself. Just come back in and sleep."

I almost don't recognise the speaker, her tone is so desolate and lifeless, but there's no mistaking Adia as she comes to stand at my side.

I let out a humourless half-laugh, half-sob, rubbing at my eyes and only smearing the tears further across my cheeks. "Sleep, huh? Somehow I don't think anyone's gonna be falling asleep tonight."

"You need to rest," Adia insists. She keeps her gaze firmly fixed on her sandals, never once glancing in Katerina's direction. "Even if you're not going to sleep, just . . . just come inside. Please. You don't need to do this to yourself."

It does make me feel awful, staring at Katerina's corpse: sick and sad and guilty and angry all at once. Perhaps the most twisted of my emotions, however, is the homesickness I get when I see the familiar sight of a body strung up as a warning. It was an unfortunately common architectural feature back in 3.

I still remember the day we found Rob hanging from a building roof. Surrounded by the corpses of 3's most notorious rebels, yet he'd never done a single thing during the war. He died of hypothermia that first winter we spent in those horrible camps for 3's citizens, but the Capitol soldiers had confiscated his body. They wanted to use anyone they could get their hands on as a deterrent to the rebels—didn't matter what the corpses had died of.

I remember how Mom cried and cried, how Dad couldn't even leave the house to work, how my little sisters were too terrified to even speak. It was only after the mayor finally gave the order to have the bodies cut down and buried that my family could heal. We couldn't stand to see Rob mistreated, even in death.

Is that how Katerina's parents and brother are feeling now? I know little about her family other than the fact that she has one, but I picture them similar to my own in my head. No doubt the Capitol is torturing the citizens of 11 by playing constant footage of Katerina's gruesome demise. How can her family possibly cope?

It's then that it hits me, why I've been standing out here all this time. I turn to Adia, my eyes downcast, and whisper, "We have to get her down."

"What?"

"With everything that's happened, everything that Katerina . . . we should help her down. Give her a, a proper f-funeral." I sniff, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. "We don't need the reminder of . . . well, no one needs the reminder."

Adia doesn't meet my gaze. She doesn't want to admit it, but I think she's terrified of even acknowledging Katerina's presence. To Adia, we were always the invincible rebels, the infallibly good guys, and now two of our members are dead, one of which we might as well have killed ourselves. The guilt is eating her up, but even worse is the realisation of how fragile and scared a kid she is. And she's one of the toughest out of all of us.

When she still refuses to answer, I gently take her hand and lead her back into the atrium. It's pretty much the same as I left it: everyone in their own corner drowning in their own sorrows. Clearing my throat instantly draws the attention to me, and though I address our whole alliance, I look directly at Volt as I speak; no matter what decisions he's made, he's still our leader.

"I-I think we should take Katerina down and . . . bury her, or cremate her, or just . . . lay her to rest. She doesn't deserve this. And her family, w-watching, they don't need to keep seeing her l-like this."

I get no response from Volt; it's as though he didn't even hear me. His eyes are glazed over, hidden by a veil of shame, and his face looks so gaunt, like he lost twenty pounds in just the last hour.

No matter how hard Adia has taken this, or me, or Magnus, or anyone else, I think Katerina's death hit him worst of all. Volt may have listened to Caragh and Riri's opinions, but ultimately, it was his decision to make us stay. No one hates him for it—I think what's even worse is we were almost relieved—but he's beating himself up on the inside, I can tell. He hasn't spoken since he last yelled at Adia.

For a while, I think this silence will continue, but just as I turn away, he speaks up. "Right," he says in the raspy, hollow tone of someone's whose throat has been rubbed raw from crying. "Yeah, um . . . yeah. We should h-help her . . ."

He breaks off, shuddering violently, but clambers to his feet all the same. His district partner and Reese quickly follow suit.

"We'll come too," Caragh says, sharing a brief look with the 10 girl.

Tully avoids my gaze, focusing all her attention on Magnus, who's been out of it since he first saw Katerina. It's okay; I was never expecting her to come with us anyways. Riri and Arc don't volunteer their aid either, but someone has to hold the fort.

Reese grabs the candle we've kept lit while Volt shakily takes the knife lying beside Tully, and the five of us set off. Into the garden, over the small fence that blocks our house off, and out onto the adjacent street, we come to a stop in front of our mutilated ally.

Adia grabs my hand for support, biting her lip and looking away. Reese utters a near-silent whimper, but presses on, striding determinedly over to the corpse, Caragh at her heels. As for our leader, Volt seems frozen in place, unable to take his horrified eyes off of Katerina's empty eye sockets.

Bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to swallow, knowing I can't afford to throw up whatever little sustenance remains in my stomach. We've run out of the bread we carried back to our base, and though we know where the store is to get more, no one's been brave enough to venture out. Fear still trumps famine—at least, for the time being.

I try to step forward, but Adia is still as a statue, unable to move, so reluctantly, I let go of her hand, gently pry Volt's knife from his grip, and move to help the other girls.

Reese takes the blade from my hand as I approach. "Thanks," she murmurs.

"No problem," I reply, equally soft. It feels wrong to speak loudly now, what with Katerina so close.

The faint smell coming from the corpse is nearly enough to make me hurl again, but the sight is far, far worse. I thought no one could be more hurt than Magnus, yet the wounds on Katerina are even more gruesome. Her eyes are gone, as well as a few fingers, toes, and a good portion of her nose. What little of her tunic remains is seeped in red, and her stomach has been slashed open to the point where more than blood has poured out. That p-pinkish thing, is that . . .

My eyes jump away as my stomach twists once more. Nope, I can't do this, I definitely cannot do this. Desperate for anything to distract myself, I focus on Caragh, who's subtly crumpling up some papers in her hands.

"W-What are those?" I stammer, trying to ignore the acidic taste in my mouth.

"What?" Caragh freezes, glancing down at the pages. "Oh, um, nothing. Meaningless death threats from Riley, him trying to scare us."

"O-Oh." Well, I don't think he needs to leave notes to accomplish that.

Caragh shoves the papers into her tunic as Reese nervously starts sawing away at the rope around Katerina's neck.

"I-Is this the best way to do it?" she stutters, trying to look anywhere but the dead girl as she works. "She'll fall. Should someone . . . c-catch her?"

"Can you get infected by d-dead people?" I ask Caragh.

"I don't think so," she says. "Not if, um, not if she wasn't suffering from any diseases while she . . . lived. Keep going, Reese, I'll . . . catch her."

Reese nods and cuts the last strand of the rope. Katerina drops instantly; it takes all of my willpower not to shriek and stumble back as her bloody limbs rush past my face. My respect for Caragh shoots through the roof when she not only holds her ground but doesn't throw up when Katerina's mutilated corpse collapses into her arms.

Suddenly, Volt's here, the pain still present in his eyes, but muted as he helps his district partner carry our fallen ally. Adia rejoins my side too, once more squeezing my hand for comfort as, with nowhere else to go, we all take Katerina into the nearest house.

With no shovels, burying her isn't a viable option, and cremating her might be tough to do without sending a huge smoke signal up to potential enemies, or possibly burning down the entire block. Everyone hesitates in the new house's atrium, unsure where to go, until I get an idea and point towards the nearest bedroom.

Caragh and Volt enter first, laying Katerina gently down on the straw mattress. They run out pretty quickly after that—probably to dunk themselves in the atrium pool—and neither Reese nor Adia seem all that keen to approach the body again, so it falls to me to finish this. I take a deep breath, not really wanting to trade fresh air for the smell of blood and death again, but I have no choice. It's the least I can do for Katerina after we . . . a-abandoned her.

And how does this make up for it? This is far too little, far too late.

I purse my lips and start a low, slow whistle to keep the bad thoughts away as I enter the bedroom. My stomach still twists at the sight of Katerina; even cut down, she looks no better off than she was before, with her gaping eye sockets and expression of agony. This shouldn't be the last memory her family has of their beloved daughter and sister.

Tentatively, I reach out a hand, brushing Katerina's light, strawberry-blonde hair over her face. There are bloody patches on her scalp as well, and I do my best to cover those too; no injuries should remain to mar the image of this beautiful girl who once lived.

I pull a blanket over the rest of her body, but first slide a ring with a cloudy grey gem off one of her remaining fingers and place it on the quilt, right above her heart. It's her token from her parents, and she should keep it close.

There's a soft knock on the wall behind me; it's Caragh, soaked and dripping water, with a handful of flowers from the garden in her hand. Wordlessly, I step aside, and she tiptoes up to place the bouquet by Katerina's head.

"I'm so, so sorry," she murmurs, her tears watering the flowers as she arranges them around Katerina's head. "G-Goodbye, Katerina."

"Goodbye," I whisper, and then I'm on the ground sobbing, because really, that's the best I can do after letting her get killed? The word feels hollow, useless, just like the whole gesture of laying her to rest. We should have done something for her well before now, but we didn't, and now our ally is d-d-dead. That's something no amount of flowers can fix.

Arc Malvina, 14, District 4

The others look crushed when they shuffle back into our base, eyes downcast, feet dragging on the floor. I can't imagine how hard it must have been, seeing Katerina up close, cutting her down and touching her, feeling the blood and the cold, clammy skin and . . . ergh, I'm making myself sick just thinking about it.

No one makes eye contact with anyone as the others return to their spots on the atrium floor, heads still hung low with the weight of guilt. I can feel my own stewing in the pit of my stomach, threatening to bubble over every time I remember how I felt when Volt announced we'd be leaving Katerina behind. Not sad, not angry, not ashamed—relieved.

At first, I managed to convince myself it was a normal reaction. I mean, it was just common sense, right? Even with our numbers, I doubt we could take Riley down—not without losing quite a few of our people, at least. Katerina was as good as dead anyways, so why risk more lives trying to save her broken one?

But as her screams dragged on, it became harder and harder to hear my reassuring thoughts. Then came the cannon, then seeing her corpse, and suddenly, I felt like I'd been stabbed in the gut. Or rather, had stabbed Katerina in the gut. We'd all condemned her to die when we refused to rescue her, and because of us, a girl my age had been tortured to death. A girl who, barring our different districts, could have been in one of my classes at school, or in my friend group before the rebellion.

I'd seen a lot of awful things during the war. People shot down in the street, family turning on family, my old neighbours slaughtering my parents for helping the Capitol. But I'd never done any of those things. I'd never played any role in horrific acts.

Now I have.

The atrium is silent, everyone lost in their own nightmares, yet unable to sleep. At least, I assume so, until I see Bolt nodding off on Adia's shoulder. Maybe, without the reminder of what we did dangling from the house across the street, he feels a little better in his heart. Or maybe dealing with a corpse of a girl who was once our friend is so emotionally exhausting he just can't stay awake anymore.

Adia prompty copies her district partner, as does Reese. Eventually, the atrium fills with the sounds of soft, even breathing, so different from all the yelling and crying that's been going on in here today. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine I'm back at one of my friend's slumber parties from before the war. I don't know if the thought is happy or heartbreaking.

Soon, Caragh, Riri, and I are the only ones still awake. It hits me then how tired I feel, but I can't fall asleep yet, not without knowing we have someone on watch for Riley or any of our other members who might panic and run. Especially since I can't guarantee the next guy to do so won't be me.

Caragh seems to read my mind when she glances around the room, eyes meeting Riri's, then mine. "Go to sleep, you two," she whispers. "I'll keep watch."

"You look exhausted," Riri says, and I marvel at the newfound concern in her voice until she continues with, "We need our healer well-rested. Sleep. I'll stay up."

"I'm not putting you on watch again."

Caragh's steely tone makes me shiver; I've never heard her be so cold before. Is she mad at Riri for falling asleep last night? But that wasn't her fault; she wasn't even officially put on watch, and besides, I don't think I've seen her sleep once since this all began. She deserves a restful night.

"I'll stay up," I say without thinking.

Caragh glances at me. "Arc? No, no, that's all right, you need your sleep—"

"So do you. Riri's right: you're our healer, you need to be well-rested. And Riri's our awesome warrior, operative person. I don't, heh, I don't really do much. So let me do this, at least."

Caragh hesitates, glancing at Riri, who shrugs and lies down on her side. Despite appearing to be an ever-alert, indestructible force to be reckoned with, I think our resident badass is a lot more tired than she likes to let on.

"All right," Caragh says slowly after Riri's eyes close. She glances back at me and gives me her best attempt at a smile. "Thanks, Arc. Wake me when you're tired, and I can take over."

"Got it."

She's asleep as soon as her head hits the floor. It only makes me feel guiltier; four nights we've been here, and I've never once had to stay up on watch while Caragh, Riri, and Volt take every shift.

Speaking of Volt, he's stirring in his corner, sitting up and clambering to his feet so fast, I don't think he was ever asleep in the first place. In the flickering light of our one lit candle, I can just see his eyes roam around the atrium before settling on me.

"Arc," he whispers, slowly tiptoeing to my side. "You on watch?"

"Yeah."

"You the only one?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." He hesitates, eyes focused on the ground when he continues, "I can take over."

"What? Volt, no, you've been up every night since the first, let me—"

"It's okay. I'd rather stay up."

"You need sleep."

"No, I really don't.

"But—"

"Please, Arc. Just let me take over."

He meets my eyes then, and I see so much pain in his gaze that I nearly wince. I mean, I know he's our leader and all, and he made the final decision to leave Katerina, but . . . "It's not your fault, you know."

He flinches at that before regaining his composure and letting out a grim chuckle. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but uh, yeah. Yeah, it is. But I can fix it, starting with this. Please, Arc, let me do this for you."

I want to say there's no need for him to do anything for me, that he's done more than enough by bringing this alliance together and keeping us all relatively safe. Riley is a threat no one is prepared to handle, and Volt shouldn't feel like he failed when there was no chance of winning in the first place.

But I can see he doesn't want me to argue, so I don't. I'm too tired to anyway, which is absolutely pathetic considering the stamina of my allies, I know, but I just . . . I just can't be strong like them. I hate myself for it, but that's the truth.

I lay down on the floor, trying to find a comfortable position when there's nothing but hard stone beneath me. We pulled a few mattresses out of the bedrooms and have been rotating the use of them pretty consistently, but I guess it's not my night to have one. Too bad—it's gonna make falling asleep so . . . so much harder . . .

I'm out in seconds, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep. Even my subconscious is too tired to torment me with nightmares of Riley and Katerina, and for that, I'm grateful.

Until I wake up a little while later with a strong need to pee. My body rises, basically on autopilot as I stumble towards the garden, trying to avoid stepping on my allies in the darkness. Volt must have accidentally let the candle die. Still, I can make out the shadowy shapes of everyone as I pass. There's Bolt, sitting up against the wall and using Adia's shoulder as a pillow while her head rests on his; Tully, lying by Magnus's side, as usual, his hand still tightly clasped in hers; Reese, a few feet away from Caragh, both with their knees curled up to their chests as they sleep; and Riri, in a corner by herself, looking like she's poised to wake at any moment.

In my bleary, fatigue-fogged state, I don't notice what's wrong until I reach the garden archway. Once I do, however, I freeze, thoughts rushing through my head like my brain's just come back online.

Volt wasn't in the atrium.

Where's Volt?

Not here.

No. No, no, no, not again, not on my watch. First Magnus, and now . . .

Volt's gone. He left the base. He's out there now.

Out there with Riley.

Volt Tron, 17, District 7

The night is cool, chilling my still damp tunic and sending goosebumps up my arms and legs. But it's well lit, rays of bright moonlight shining down from the sky, illuminating my path and gleaming as they reflect off of Tully's blade in my hand.

I grip the knife tighter, hoping the gesture of determination will give me some much needed courage.

Tonight, this ends.

I cannot begin to describe how awful I feel for leaving Katerina. It was easy to believe I'd made the right choice when she wasn't there in front of me, but as soon as her mangled corpse offered proof of the torture she went through, I realised what a terrible, terrible mistake I'd made.

How am I ever supposed to live with myself? I sentenced a young girl to a torturous, slow death at the hands of a boy I'm beginning to doubt is even human. That doesn't just make me a horrible leader, that makes me a horrible person.

But I can fix it. Anything, anything to get rid of this gnawing agony in my heart and the disgusted, accusing glares I see whenever I close my eyes. What would my mother and father, such strong rebels, say if they could see me now? What would my siblings, my friends, everyone I ever knew say? I don't know, but I can guess; my brain has been coming up with insults non-stop since this evening.

"You abandoned one of your own. How could you do that, Volt?"

"What kind of a leader sacrifices his allies like that?"

"You're more of a monster than Riley Byron ever could be."

"But I'll fix it," I say firmly, trying to be louder than my thoughts. "I'll fix it. I'll fix it."

I'll kill Riley. I'll kill him, and none of my allies will ever have to suffer again. We'll all be okay.

Or . . .

My palms grow sweaty, loosening my grip on the knife. I mutter a curse and wipe them on my tunic, telling myself over and over that I'm not scared. Even if Riley . . . even if I don't make it, everything will still be all right. I'm the leader, the one the Capitol's been trying to get to from the beginning. With me out of the way, they'll have no reason to keep hurting the others. I'll be the last sacrifice our alliance needs.

"Well, well, well. I'll admit, I expected a lot of things, but this isn't one of them."

I whirl around, using all the restraint I have to keep myself from hurling the knife into the shadows. If I miss, I'm out a weapon and dead. Better to save it for the fight that's sure to come.

Riley smiles, but his eyes are deadly as he steps from the doorway of the nearest home. He's even bigger than I remember, and armed to the teeth. There's a belt of daggers around his waist, a sword at his back, another in his left hand, and a war hammer in his right. Such a weapon should definitely require two hands, but he swings it lazily about like it's the lightest thing in the world.

"Like it?" He smirks, noting the direction of my gaze. "New toy. Just arrived a few minutes ago. Couldn't fathom why, until I saw you blundering around in the dark. Guess the Capitol wants to see what smushed rebel looks like."

"That's not gonna happen," I spit, barely able to keep myself from lunging at him. My heart is pounding furiously in my chest, white-hot fury racing through my veins, only increased when I see the bloodstains on Riley's tunic. Not from him, I'm willing to bet.

"Oh, really?" Riley laughs, an arrogant, patronising laugh that makes my blood boil. "You think you can kill me with that toothpick? By all means, try. I'll make sure to return it after—maybe shove it right through your district partner's scrawny neck."

Don't you dare even mention Caragh, you bastard.

"You're never, ever going to even touch my friends again," I snap, doing my best to keep calm. If I let him rile me up, I'll make mistakes—fatal mistakes. "One way or another, this ends tonight."

"Are you really so cocky as to believe you can kill me?"

"Maybe. Or maybe this ends with you killing me." I try not to let my voice waver on the words. "Either way, it'll be done."

"And how exactly would my killing you end any of this?"

"I'm the leader of the rebels. I'm the one the Capitol wants dead. Once I'm out of the way, you have no reason to hurt the others."

Riley stares at me for a moment while I stand tall, pouring as much confidence as I can into my stance. But then he laughs, and my courage goes cold.

"You do think highly of yourself, don't you? Oh, honey." Condescension positively oozes from his words. "Have you forgotten the whole 'twenty-four go in, one comes out' rule?"

"Even the Capitol wouldn't sink that low. They want to make an example out of a few kids, but they couldn't kill all of us. The districts wouldn't stand for it."

"Naiveté in Panem. How adorable."

"Shut up."

Riley smirks. "All right, then let's assume you're right, and the Capitol doesn't want to kill twenty-three of us. Let's say they just want you, special snowflake that you are, dead. Well, they're not here, are they? I am, and besides just doing this for shits and giggles, you're not the one I want to kill. Didn't you get my notes?"

"N-Notes?" I can't help but stutter; suddenly, the whole situation has turned on its head, and I don't know what's going on anymore.

"I made them very clear. Don't tell me the blood made them unreadable . . . or no." Riley raises an eyebrow, a knowing sneer growing on his lips. "Someone else got to them first and decided the rest of you didn't need to know. How interesting."

"What are you talking about?" I snap.

"It seems not all is well in the rebel alliance. Someone is lying to you. They've brought my wrath down upon your alliance because they didn't want to share my message."

"And what message is that?"

"No point telling you. You'll be dead shortly. Though I suppose I could let you live. Give you the message, send you back to your allies, watch you tear each other apart. Could be fun."

He smirks, levelling his sword so it points directly at my chest, and continues, "Only no. I think it'd be much more fun to kill you now. No one's put up a good fight since this game began, and I need something to get my blood pumping. But don't worry—I'll make sure my message is very clear on your corpse when I'm done with it."

With that, Riley lunges. I'm expecting it, yet still I only just manage to throw myself out of the way before his hammer smashes into my skull.

"Pity." Riley sneers as he attacks again and I'm forced to dodge. "It seems the supposed 'leader' is just as cowardly as the rest of his pathetic allies."

This time, the sword swings out, aiming straight for my neck. Only to be stopped short as my knife shoots up to block it.

The grinding screeech of metal on metal is louder than anything I've ever heard. Painful vibrations shake me to my very core, numbing the muscles in my arms and urging me to drop the blade, but I stand tall, even as Riley forces his sword further forward.

I match the push with a forceful one of my own. My glare is inches from his smirk as I fight back, and that's when I hear it—the minutest shffft of a sandal sliding back on the road.

That sound didn't come from my feet.

Riley's sneer hardens into something deadlier. But I don't care, even as we shove each other away and return to opposite ends of the street, even as we circle each other, me only with my small knife, him with a small arsenal at his disposal. I still made him move, and he wasn't expecting that. Maybe he's not as invincible as he likes to think.

Maybe I can actually win this.

No, I will win this. For my allies.

With a yell, I charge at Riley, and our weapons clash once more.

Caragh Ronisch, 18, District 7

When Arc wakes me, tears streaming down his face as he stammers through sobs what happened to Volt, cold dread fills my stomach. But the feeling is not new; rather, it feels like it's been building for a while now, just waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.

I should have known this would happen. Volt was taking Katerina's death too hard, thinking it was all his fault, and I should have realised he'd want to fix this. And because he's a foolish, idiotic, stupid teenage boy, he'd view the solution as a suicidal solo mission to kill Riley.

You idiot. You brave, stupid idiot. How could you possibly take that brute on alone?

"Maybe we could find him," I start to ramble as Arc wakes the others. "There's safety in numbers, right? If we could just meet up with Volt, we could—"

"You know that's a bad idea," Riri says from her corner.

I grit my teeth; why does she always have to make the logical arguments? "Not necessarily. If—"

"Volt took the knife. Obviously he went after Riley. Which means they'll probably be together at this point."

"And the whole reason we didn't go after Katerina was because we knew she was with Riley," Adia mumbles sullenly.

I look helplessly from her to Tully. They're supposed to be our most passionate and loyal members; they're the ones who started that whole "all for one and one for all" business in the first place. Where is that fire that used to be present? "So we're just going to leave him out there? Alone?"

"Isn't that what we did with Katerina?"

Vulgar language is not at all a part of my vocabulary, yet I just barely manage to keep myself from swearing at Adia. "Yes, I know," I say slowly, taking a deep breath. "And I know you think that was a mistake."

"Maybe it was."

"Then are we really going to sit here and make the same one a second time?"

"I dunno—that's for our leader to decide."

"Adia, I'm sorry, all right?" Tully snaps, even sicker than I am of Adia's disparaging tone. "I'm sorry I didn't leap to Katerina's defence, but . . ." She glance at Magnus next to her, his face pale and his knees curled up to his chest. "Well, what did you expect?"

"I expected you to care about everyone! That's the whole point of an alliance!"

"So what, you expected me to leave Magnus and go out hunting for some girl none of us know well at all? Do I need to remind you what happened last time I left him?"

"Tully," Magnus says, so quiet I don't think she hears. "You don't need to protect—"

But Tully is already interrupting, on her feet and spitting out words that I think have been bubbling up inside her for a long time.

"I promised I'd always be at his side, and I am not going to screw that up again! If Bolt was in his place, you'd do the same thing!"

Adia's face goes bright red. "No, I wouldn't!"

"Oh, so you'd sacrifice him for someone else in this alliance, then?"

"I wouldn't . . . Those aren't the only choices!"

"Enough!" I shout, startling them enough to make them shut up. "Arguing and yelling is not helping our current situation. We're not talking about Katerina or Magnus, we're talking about Volt. What are we going to do here and now?"

"Going after him is suicide."

I glare at Riri. "Yes, thank you, we all know your opinion. But this is a different situation than with Katerina."

She frowns, confused. "How so?"

My fists clench. I have the most absurd feeling she knows exactly what I'm thinking and just wants to make me say it out loud. "Because Volt . . ."

"Is your district partner?"

"No, he's—"

"More useful?"

"No—"

"Our leader?"

I narrow my eyes at the flippancy in her tone. "Yes."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

You know. Besides giving our alliance a direction, he's one of the only people who can keep us all together. Look at us now: an hour without him, and we're already at each other's throats. What do you think it'll be like if he dies?

Her expression remains emotionless, even as I try to silently communicate all of this to her. Then it hits me.

You don't care.

You didn't join this alliance for friends. You joined to hide your rebel connections under our louder and more obvious ones. After all, the Capitol would never let a girl who actually worked for the rebels come out of here alive, unless she flew under the radar while they dealt with the bigger threats.

We're not Riri's alliance. We're her smokescreen. She'll let the Capitol take us out one by one, even helping them to do the deed, and by the time we're all gone, they'll forget she was ever on our side in the first place.

I want to throw her out right now. Toss her to the street and see how she deals one-on-one with Riley.

But then I remember my father telling me not to be mad when Capitol soldiers were brought to us to be treated. A person is a person, Caragh, no matter what they've done, and our job is to help them indiscriminately.

Looks like I've failed you there too, Dad.

"So we're not going to go after Volt," I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my tone as I turn away from Riri. "We're going to do nothing."

No one meets my eyes when I look at them, not even Adia.

Guilty silence fills the atrium, broken only by Arc murmuring, "W-What else can we do?"

The cold in my stomach increases, freezing any residual anger. He's right; what could eight messed-up, traumatised teenagers ever do to a well-practiced murderer? I've acted so high and mighty this whole time, vehemently suggesting we save Volt, but do I even have the courage to step out those doors, let alone face down Riley?

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I don't.

"H-Hey, it might be all right," Bolt says, stepping to the middle of the room and trying to smile despite all the despair around him. "Volt's tall and strong, and probably the most capable guy in our alliance. Plus he's got Tully's knife, and, you know, he's the good guy. The good guys, they're always supposed to w-win. We just have to wait, and I swear, he'll come walking right back through those doors with a big grin on his face like always. And everything . . . everything will be okay."

It sounds so simple when said like that.

It also sounds so horribly naïve.

Bolt retreats to Adia's side after that, and for what feels like an eternity, we do exactly what he said. Wait. Wait for some kind of sign as to what's happening.

About an hour later, we get one.

BOOM!

Everyone flinches at the sound of the cannon, glancing up at the sky as though they're expecting to see a face immediately. But it'll be almost twenty hours before the anthem plays again. Once again, the only thing we can do is wait. Wait for Volt, triumphant in his fight against Riley, to come back to base.

Or wait for him to never come back again.

Dead: ? ? ? ? ?

Hehe, I'll try to get the next chapter out in less time than this one took. But like I said before, the deaths have begun again, and they're not necessarily stopping any time soon.

Thanks for reading, guys!